Read Caged by Damnation Page 18


  The dragging stopped. Two hands grabbed me to force me onto my back. I whimpered, knowing my words would do little if my attacker couldn't hear me. Tightening began at my chest, descending towards my middle, hefting me upwards as though braced against this new cruelty. I tore my arm free and shoved my elbow backwards into the hidden enemy.

  "Ow! Savannah, stop it!"

  The light room was sucked away and I was back in the midst of the battle, held against Griffin's chest. "What?" Dazedly, I looked around and saw that bodies seemed to have exploded from the ground. There were a few skirmishes far away, but they might have been vultures picking at the new meat for all I could see.

  We had been pushed into a corner. Only Liam stood between us and certain death. Painfully, Griffin dragged me closer, shielding me from the approaching demons which were surrounding our tiny group.

  Griffin's words made their way through the poison quicksand. "It's going to be okay. We'll get you out of here." They were meant to comfort but were less effective when paired with the blood dripping from his lower lip.

  With one hand, Liam held Griffin's spear, impaling demons before they made it within arm's reach, and disarming others. With his other hand, he used the talon, performing maneuvers that made me queasy as I watched. He annihilated the closer targets until a pyre of bodies stood as a buffer to the slaughter making its way to us. In life, the demons had sought our death, but now their shells had been forced to trade sides.

  "Just hold on! I've got this!" Liam shouted, as if we were awaiting a chariot that would be here in moments to fly us away from here.

  Griffin shook me, jolting my eyes back open. "Stay awake."

  "Why?" We wouldn't survive, Liam was tiring quickly and help wasn't coming. "Why hold onto false hope? We're all dead anyways."

  Personally, I would rather have yielded to the poison and given way to the part that sleeping beauty would have played had her prince never arrived. My prince would never come. I wasn't a princess asleep in an ivory tower, and my life had already required too many sacrifices.

  My eyes drifted shut, allowing my loved ones to come into view. This was peace. I just needed to allow myself to be carried away on memories of them. If I held onto their faces, the clashing of weapons would fade away and I would follow.

  Suddenly, my cheek stung and ringing clamored through to banish my haven. I was torn from the mercy of drifting away.

  "Damn it, Savannah! Stop being selfish! I thought you were better than that!"

  My eyes snapped open. Griffin's hand was still poised to deliver another message, but lowered when my eyes narrowed in anger.

  He pointed towards Liam, who was losing more ground. "We might not live through this, but are you really ready to give up on him?"

  I groaned. "What am I supposed to do? What can you do? Neither of us can fight. We're a liability to him now."

  Griffin coughed, an ocean of red velvet declared the truth behind my words. "Then we get help."

  I lifted my quaking hand to smooth away Griffin's fresh blood before the poison weighed me down once more. "How? Who could possibly help us?"

  "I don't know, but maybe we can send out a signal that we're still here and need help? There were guards helping others cross through the battle before. Maybe some of them are still around?" Talking was too hard on him, he was losing his fight to loss of blood.

  "Okay." What else could I say? This could be Griffin's last wish; how could I deny him? "We just need to get someone's attention, right?"

  He nodded and sagged with relief.

  Liam was thrown to the ground at our feet, stalked by what could have been the twin of the giant from earlier. However, this one seemed angrier, and more dangerous. Its lips were stitched shut, its biceps as thick around as my waist, its fist larger than Liam's head. The other demons backed away, waiting with wicked smiles for Liam's death.

  Liam rolled over, narrowly avoiding the boot that crashed down where he had lain moments ago. His breathing was unstable as he jumped to his feet and held the spear in front of him.

  Trails of dread found their way to me and I realized that the connection from our circle was still tentatively open. If only I knew how I could use that to help us. I turned to ask Griffin what we should do, but he was succumbing to his wound; his pulse was barely perceptible. The poison was working through my system and I too was fading. Soon I would be forced back to the white room, and if I gave in to it, we would all die.

  Eyes open, I focused on the circle, sensing Isis. I could tell she was safe and unaware that my consciousness had sought her out. Before I could falter, I tore strength from her. My will overpowered her when she tried to fight back. Ordinarily, I would never resort to these methods, but this was a matter of life or death. Her strength was absorbed into my aura, fueling me with power and anger.

  Liam stumbled, making the cuts and bruises scattered about his body that much more profound. He couldn't take anymore. Steeling myself, I allowed Isis's power to slow the effects of the poison.

  It was my turn to enter the ring. Liam desperately needed to be tagged. My steps quickened until I stood between him and the giant. "My turn."

  Liam's eyes broadened. He nodded and collapsed beside Griffin's immobile body.

  Grasping a double-bladed axe from the hands of nearby corpse, I faced the demon. I held it at an angle, prepared for a coming attack. The giant’s club swung towards my abdomen like a deadly bat aiming for a baseball. I jumped over it. Just as my feet hit the ground, he brought the lopsided weapon back, nearly battering my head before I ducked. My hair whipped around at the disturbance. Taking a card from a mouse, I began darting and zigzagging to avoid my version of an aggressive cat.

  The giant stumbled, trying to keep pace with me, as I slid between his feet. I followed by slamming my axe down onto the hide of his back, with minimal result. My abnormally large opponent spun on his grimy feet, his weapon in sync with his body, but I threw myself to the side. On impact, the giant stomped on my left hand, crushing every bone. I bit my lip and let out an agonized scream. Blood and filth flooded my mouth as I cradled my hand to my chest and tears washed down my cheeks. Anger swept through me. I had broken my rule. I had allowed a monster to see me cry.

  I stood, stumbling at the pressure on my ankle. Apparently, I had twisted it when I’d willingly thrown myself at the mercy of the dirt. Before I had a chance to brace myself, I was backhanded, sending me flying towards the waiting army of demons. They were eager to have a piece of the fight. Their hands clawed and squeezed, their teeth sank into various parts of my tattered body. As one, they passed me to the front of the group.

  Suddenly, I was standing in front of them with blood trailing down the side of my face. I fell to my knees, exhausted and wondering how I could go on. I was laden with pain; my soul was grief-stricken with helplessness. Griffin didn't look like he could last much longer, if he wasn't dead already. Liam was lying on his side, facing me with an obsolete gaze. We were going to die and all had accepted it.

  I watched my foe swing his club around, revealing a sword at the opposite end. Behind me, the army chanted, while others sounded the drums of war. The blade arched towards me and I darted sideways. I had seen the look in Liam's eyes, and I wasn't ready to let them win. I would go down fighting the way Maye had taught me. A battle was only won if a party gave up.

  Bellowing, I raced to the giant. Grabbing onto the massive fist coming my way, I used it as leverage to climb onto the demonic giant's back. Wrapping my weapon around its throat to use as reins, I braced myself. Desperately, he tried to assert dominance by kicking, jumping and trying to pull me off. I was determined to break him.

  In a last-ditch attempt, he fell onto his side, squashing my leg beneath him. He began to roll onto his back, but I jerked the axe, sliding it across his jugular and ending his efforts. His head fell forward with a lazy thud.

  Relieved, I stood, momentarily forgetting that I was still standing in a battle zone. I smiled at Griffin and watched hi
s eyes widen just before pain pierced my back and spread to my front. I looked down to see a blade protruding from my chest.

  Twin thoughts clouded my mind: if we survived this, Griffin and I would have matching scars, and secondly: it made me wonder about my battle with Asmodeus. Had I not chosen to live, my injury would have been remarkably similar to the one I now sported. Now, the choice was taken from me.

  My vision darkened, bringing forth an internal Armageddon, and I fell to my battlefield grave. I wondered if anyone would live to bury me?

  Crazed loneliness swept through me, settling inside my skin like a cool mist that I’d absorbed whole. It was infuriating the way my body embraced it, welcoming it as an old friend rather than recognizing it for the enemy it was.

  The elixir of death had taken hold of me, making of me an empty shell to contain the spores of darkness, a bottomless pit cast from iron emotion. Thankfully, the world couldn't witness my surrender.

  I struggled to move against the depths of my despair. I was paralyzed, left only with the ability to inhale and exhale. This was the embodiment of torture: to be unable to respond to my needs and the useless fluttering of my heart without the physical reaction it demanded.

  Finally, I drew forth a whimper, the barest hint that cold hadn't replaced my heart, though it lasted for barely a few seconds before it too collapsed under the pressure. Repelled from all sides, I was being crushed from the inside out. More ground was taken by the darkness until all that lay between myself and total damnation was my box.

  A forgotten corner of my mind was the resting place of the cube that had protected me all those years ago. It was sandwiched between the childhood sacrifices I’d witnessed and Asmodeus's death, garnering esteem from cobwebbed thoughts and spider-ridden memories.

  I retreated from the evil dispersing itself within my mind until my flesh pressed into the cage behind me. Its bars felt like sandpaper moving across my shoulder blades. This place was forbidden lest I accidentally entomb myself and lose the key to my release. The more I shrank into the familiar safety it offered, the more it became a weapon against me. My own creation could easily transform from guardian to prison.

  It had been a long time since I had retreated from my fickle friend. I’d promised myself I’d never return. The darkness was approaching and the threat the cage posed was miniscule compared to what lay in the rest of my mind. So there I hid, hoping my ancient cage would protect me once more.

  CHAPTER 13

  WILLOW

  It was difficult to keep up with Poison Ivy. She set a breakneck pace and I wasn't used to running on four legs. Eventually, she stopped, standing on a cliff above the water. Was she planning to push me off into an icy grave?

  Why are we here?

  She moved forth until she was at the edge. Being a Hellhound is harder than you know. You see death and are a part of him. You have to be cold and ruthless because emotion can cloud your judgment and get you killed. It can also kill those you love. I waited, holding my breath. The deaths will hurt you in ways you couldn't imagine. They may be the worst sort of souls, but consuming them is ... going to claw at your insides until you can't breathe. We all feel it, but don't talk about it. It's like voicing it would make the pain that much worse. I just wanted you to know, to prepare yourself for the worst and spare you the surprise.

  When she looked back at me, her eyes were flooded with tears. My paws slipped on the rock, but I made it to her. You can talk to me.

  She displayed her teeth in the Hellhound version of a smile and looked away. No, I didn't bring you here for me. When it gets really bad this is the place where it evaporates. Gazing back at me, she spoke solemnly. I wanted you to see it. Maybe it will help bring you some peace. It may help you face the demons, as it has for me. You're going to need it now.

  After showing me her sanctuary, we walked in silence. Her tail had lost its perkiness and hung low. It worried me, but I didn't think she wanted my sympathy. Instead, I gave her space and pondered her complex personality. We reached the Hellhound lair, changed, and discovered everyone waiting in the common room.

  "Why the sourpuss faces? Did someone die?" I meant the questions to be lighthearted but they all looked to me with grave expressions. Even Death had taken on a pitiful look, and it was directed at me.

  Vixen stood, walked to me, and gave me a knowing look. "There was an attack and your friends were caught in it. I don't know if anyone died." She grimaced at the last part of the sentence.

  At first I was in shock, but then anger set in. Leaving the others in the common room, I went to my domain and grabbed some weapons. Guilt rushed through me. I had been enjoying myself, thinking that it was nice to only have to worry about myself for once. Now, it turned out that during my run, my friends had been attacked and could very well be dead.

  Pain ebbed and flowed through my body. I could feel the Fury in me taking hold, and I basked in her. If she would help me find the others or avenge their deaths, I would be grateful to have her on my side. They say to watch out for the quiet ones, and whoever harmed my friends was about to find out why.

  Death came up behind me. "It was demons. They were going after Savannah, but your friends were all there. A lot of innocents died, and I can't be sure if your friends were among them." His hand touched my shoulder, but I pulled away to face him.

  "I wasn't there! If it wasn't for your stupid demands, I would have been with them. I could have helped. It's your fault!"

  Death backed away with a somber face. "If you had been there you may have died. You wouldn't have been much good to them against an army of demons. I'm sorry about your friends, but this isn't my fault."

  My stare was lethal in its intensity, which was not lost on Death. Ignoring his remarks, I turned back to stuff various weapons into a duffle bag. If my friends were in trouble, I would need to be prepared.

  "What can I do to help?"

  I zipped the bag closed and looked him in the eye. "You can stay out of my way." I walked towards the exit, but the Hellhounds came in and blocked me.

  "I'm going. You can't keep me here."

  Echo stepped forward with crossed arms. "Oh, we're not trying to stop you. We're coming with."

  Vixen grinned. "Yeah, you against an army of demons? I'm not loving those odds." Satisfaction was plastered over her face.

  "You're our sister now,” Whisper chimed. “We're family, and like it or not, that means your battles are our battles."

  Poison Ivy walked in, surprising me since I hadn't noticed her absence. "Besides, what's your plan? Walk around and hope you don't get yourself killed? You have no clue how to take advantage of your Hellhound nature. At least we can track your friends by their scents. You'll be safer with the pack, and better equipped to protect your friends. Even demons have the good sense to fear us." She grinned, proud of her speech. I wondered if she had been late because she was practicing it?

  "Where do we start?" I asked

  "Start with the Ether since that's where the battle took place. You might find them or at least be able to track them from there. Be careful and stay alert." Confused at Death's support, I nodded in agreement, but refused to speak to him. I knew it was childish, but I was still angry.

  Scrye unveiled the door to the rest of the world. Terror emanated from the churning pool, bringing the taste of blood. She had already called on the scene of the battle and the scent of withering souls was wafting through, attaching to the living as if fighting for their lives.

  We went through the vortex and emerged, surrounded by piles of the dead. Those still living had grouped together, the handiwork of the demons written across the faces of the survivors.

  An old woman walked past us holding a historical romance novel to her chest. Obviously, she was in shock; she kept repeating, "The flame drove us out." She reminded me of someone who needed to be locked in a padded chamber to keep them from harming themselves.

  Though the others were covered in soot and grime, they had purpose to their steps, a
s they carried the dead over to piles, sorting through the demons and humans. All happiness had been stolen from them. I had been so worried about my friends that it hadn't registered that others had fared as bad, if not worse.

  Poison Ivy spoke from my left. "My God." She stared down the river of blood and loss. "This wasn't a battle, it was a massacre." The tears she shed enhanced the awe and heartbreaking sound of her voice.

  We helped those we could, while searching the field for my friends. It was difficult to tell one body apart from the next, since the demons hadn't left many telltale marks on the bodies. They had pillaged and scavenged until little was left behind in the miserable heaps.

  What was once the Ether or Compound had been left in ruins. I doubted anyone left inside had lived. If they had, they must have had an angel watching over them, or an army of them.

  Time passed. I bandaged the wounded, helped organize groups, and walked aimlessly seeking Savannah or Izzy. The longer I went without finding them, the more desperate I became.

  Vixen appeared. "Come on, I found Savannah's scent!"

  She dragged me towards a far corner where there was a higher concentration of decaying demons than elsewhere. Their bodies emanated a rank odor, a disgusting assault on the nose. It seemed that demons rotted at a faster rate than others.

  "How do you know it's hers?" I spoke from behind my palm, trying to block the smell of death.

  "Trust me, it's her. Besides, I smell Liam too...." She trailed off, tracing a patch of dried blood and my own ran cold. "If they were killed, we would have found bodies instead of some blood and a bunch of spent demons," she reassured me. I nodded, but couldn't help wondering if some of the survivors from the battle had already gathered their bodies for the pyres.

  "Willow?"

  I looked up. The voice was Ash's. His clothing was charred, and he had a jagged wound across his chest, but otherwise he seemed to be his normal self.

  Banishing my normal reserved rules, I gave him a tight hug, relieved that at least one friend was still alive. I sobbed freely, not caring if some thought it a weakness.