Ascension, page 2
"That sounds like an awful life," I said, frowning at the thought. "Who would choose such a thing?"
"You'd be surprised," Elise murmured, her eyes distant as if recalling some painful memory. "Life on the surface isn't easy, Everly. And when you're desperate, you'd do just about anything to survive."
"I don't think I could ever be that desperate," I said firmly, shaking my head.
Elise gave me a long look, her green eyes searching mine. "I hope you'll never be faced with such a thing," she said.
Her words lingered in the air between us until she smiled, the kind that was forced, that wrinkled her smooth complexion. "Come on," she said. "I'm hungry. Let's get something to eat. I'm sure the dinner bell is going to ring any second."
I smiled, following her out of the Sanctum of Glyphs. I was willing to follow her anywhere.
Elise was this Bunker's great hope. Archangel Michael chose her, and for good reason. Anything she chose to do was for the good of the bunker, for our safety. I would do anything for her. And I knew she'd do the same for me.
Chapter 2
Walton
The dim, smoky interior of The Seraph's Embrace buzzed with the hum of whispered conversations and clinking glasses. Shadows danced on the walls, cast by the flickering candlelight, creating an atmosphere that was both intimate and foreboding. I sat at a table near the back, a half-empty glass of whiskey in front of me and a cigarette smoldering between my fingers.
Lyra perched on my lap, her body warm and pliant against mine. Her black hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders, brushing against my skin as she leaned in close.
"Can you see him?" she whispered, her breath hot against my ear.
I took a slow drag from the cigarette, letting the smoke curl out of my mouth before answering. "As clear as day."
Across the room, my target sat between two whores, a devilish smirk on his angular face. His cold blue eyes were focused on the cards in his hand, calculating and ruthless even in leisure. The black military-style uniform he wore stood out starkly against the worn, muted tones of the brothel's interior. Insignias of Magnus’s regime adorned his chest like medals of dishonor.
Everyone in here knew who he was.
Everyone knew better than to fuck with him. Even Seraph.
The two women flanking him giggled and leaned into him, their laughter high-pitched and false. Decimus barely acknowledged them, his attention fixated on the poker game before him. He held his cards with a confidence born of countless battles won, both on and off the field. A small pile of chips grew steadily in front of him as he played with methodical precision.
Around the table, his opponents—rough-looking men with hard faces and tired eyes—watched him warily. They were no match for Decimus's strategic mind; they knew it as well as I did. Each move he made was calculated to intimidate and dominate.
Lyra's fingers traced idle patterns on my chest as she watched me watching him. "He's dangerous," she murmured.
"That's why I'm here," I replied, my voice gravelly and rough from years of smoke and vengeance.
I lifted my glass to my lips, letting the whiskey burn its way down my throat. My eyes never left Decimus's face, every fiber of my being attuned to his slightest movement.
This was a hunt, and I was ready to bring down my prey.
Lyra fiddled with my hair, her fingers gentle and probing. "Are you sure it's him?" she asked, her voice a soft murmur in the noisy room.
I stiffened at the touch, every nerve ending flaring. Intimacy was a forgotten concept to me. I hadn't been touched like this in a hundred years. Sex was one thing. Caressing? That was something else entirely. It reminded me too much of my life before all this.
Before The Divine Collapse.
A life I didn't want to remember.
"You sure it's him?" Lyra asked again, her voice breaking through my thoughts.
I flicked my eyes to hers, catching the concern there. "You ever know me to be wrong?" My voice came out low and gravelly, a reflection of the rage simmering just beneath the surface.
Lyra pouted, her emerald eyes searching my face for something I couldn't give her. "You know," she purred, her tone shifting to something more seductive, "we can always go upstairs… I can do that thing you like, the one with my tongue? Forget all about it. This. Him."
"Lyra," I breathed out, narrowing my eyes. "I asked you here for a reason."
She arched her back and rolled her hips against mine, trying to draw me away from the task at hand. It was tempting, too tempting. But I had a mission.
"Not that one."
She sighed dramatically but settled back against me, her fingers still playing with my hair absentmindedly. We both returned our gaze to Decimus across the room, his cold eyes locked on his cards as he continued to dominate the game.
Every move he made brought him closer to his inevitable fall, and I wasn't about to let some fleeting pleasure distract me from that moment of retribution.
"I don't like this," Lyra murmured, her voice barely audible over the din of the room. "You know he's dangerous, D. You know he's—"
"I know who he is," I replied between clenched teeth. "He's the job."
"But why would Lucifer want him?" Lyra asked, her fingers still tracing lazy circles on my chest.
"How the hell should I know?" I snapped, my patience wearing thin. "Quite frankly, I don't care. I do my damn job."
And then I'd be one tally closer to my freedom.
One step nearer to being released from this demonic state.
One breath closer to being human again.
When I could finally find my family and get some fucking answers.
Lyra's touch became more insistent, her fingers pressing into my skin as if trying to ground me in the present moment. "But what if it's a trap?" she pressed, her voice tinged with genuine worry.
"Every job's a trap," I said, my voice low and dangerous. "But this one's mine to spring."
Across the room, Decimus laughed, a harsh sound that grated on my nerves. His opponents shifted uncomfortably in their seats, aware that they were being toyed with, but powerless to do anything about it.
I took another drag from my cigarette, letting the smoke fill my lungs before exhaling slowly.
My eyes never left Decimus. Each flicker of his fingers, each smirk and cold calculation—they all told me one thing: he was a man who thought he was untouchable.
He was wrong.
Lyra shifted on my lap, her movements growing restless. "Just be careful," she whispered, her voice almost lost in the noise. "I don't want to lose you too."
"I ain't yours to lose, darling," I said. "Everything out here's lost. But me? I've got too much left to do."
Decimus tossed his cards onto the table with a triumphant grin, collecting his winnings with casual arrogance. His gaze flickered briefly in my direction, a spark of recognition lighting his eyes before he dismissed me as just another patron in the crowded room.
Big mistake.
Lyra's hand stilled on my chest as she followed my gaze. "What's the plan?" she asked softly.
"The plan is simple," I said, crushing the cigarette into the ashtray with deliberate force. "We wait until he's good and drunk. Then we take him out back and have a little chat."
Lyra's eyes widened slightly at the implication of my words, but she nodded in understanding. This was a game we both knew well—a deadly dance of shadows and whispers where only the strongest survived.
And tonight, Decimus would learn just how strong I really was.
Decimus stood up from his table, his eyes locked on mine with a predatory gleam. The room seemed to hush, the weight of his presence causing a ripple of tension. He strode over, ignoring the curious glances thrown his way. Without invitation, he plopped himself down in the chair across from me, a smug grin spreading across his angular face.
"Demon," he said, leaning back with an air of disdain. "I'm surprised they let you in an establishment like this. Don't your kind feed on the blood of women?"
I smirked and leaned back in my chair, the whiskey glass cool against my fingertips. "You're in a whorehouse," I replied, letting my eyes sweep over the room. "Do you see an innocent woman in this place?"
"Oh, right," Decimus said with a smirk that didn't reach his eyes. "I forgot the innocent part."
"Darling," I said without looking at Lyra, "why don't you get me another drink, hmm?"
Lyra slid off my lap with practiced grace, her movements smooth and fluid.
As she walked away, Decimus's eyes followed her, a cruel smile playing on his lips. "She doesn't flinch around you anymore, does she? I bet it took a while before she got used to you."
"Hmm," I drawled, moving a rare coin between my fingers with practiced ease. "Took a while before she got used to some things about me, certainly."
Decimus's gaze shifted to the coin, his interest piqued by the gleam of metal and its fluid motion. He leaned forward slightly, curiosity etched into his hard features.
"Why are you here, demon?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous.
I kept my expression neutral, the coin dancing across my knuckles as I considered how much to reveal. "Same reason anyone comes here," I replied evenly. "To relax. To forget."
Decimus snorted, clearly unimpressed with my answer. His eyes narrowed as he studied me, searching for any hint of weakness or deception.
"Relax?" he echoed skeptically. "You don't strike me as the type to relax."
"Appearances can be deceiving," I said with a shrug.
Lyra returned with another glass of whiskey and set it down in front of me before stepping back respectfully.
Decimus's eyes flickered briefly to her before returning to mine. "So what's your real reason for being here?" he pressed.
I took a slow sip of the whiskey, savoring the burn as it slid down my throat. The game had only just begun, and I wasn't about to tip my hand too soon.
I leaned back in my chair, the weight of the whiskey glass in my hand grounding me. I gave Decimus a hard stare, letting the silence stretch before finally speaking. "What if I told you I was here to cut off your head and hand it to Lucifer on a silver platter?"
Decimus threw his head back and laughed, the sound echoing through the dim room. His eyes sparkled with amusement as he leaned forward, his grin widening. "Why, you're actually funny," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I didn't think demons could be funny. I thought you were all pathetic humans too lazy and too scared to take matters into your hands after The Divine Collapse, so you sold your pitiful soul to the devil himself to make your life easier." He leaned even closer, his breath hot and taunting. "Was it worth it?"
I chuckled, swirling the amber liquid in my glass before taking another sip. "I'm glad you think I'm funny," I said evenly. "Not many people do. But I can promise you, son, every word that comes out of my pretty mouth, I mean."
Decimus's eyes flicked over my face, a sneer curling his lips. "I don't think I've seen something as ugly as you," he spat. "How they can stand to look at you, I don't know."
"Oh no," I replied with mock concern. "Let's not be cruel. It's not about what I look like, anyway; it's about how I make 'em feel." I smirked, letting my words sink in. "And I can assure you, I've gotten no complaints. Did you need some tips? I recommend taking 'em, especially since you may need to compensate for something else, huh?"
Decimus's face twisted with anger for a brief moment before he masked it with a cold smile. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest as he studied me.
"Compensate?" he echoed softly, the word hanging in the air like a challenge.
I held his gaze steadily, unflinching under his scrutiny. The tension between us crackled like static electricity, an unspoken understanding passing between predator and prey.
"Listen here," Decimus said finally, his voice low and menacing. "You may think you're clever with your little quips and insults, but you're out of your league. I don't think you know who I am… and who I work for."
I raised an eyebrow and took another leisurely sip of my drink. "Out of my league?" I repeated slowly.
"You have no idea who you're dealing with," Decimus continued, his tone deadly serious.
"And you have no idea who you're dealing with," I countered smoothly.
The room seemed to hold its breath as our gazes locked in a silent battle of wills.
"Now, now." Seraph herself set a drink down in front of me, her movements graceful and deliberate. She was striking, an enigmatic presence with long, silver hair that cascaded down her back like liquid mercury. Her eyes were an otherworldly shade of violet, piercing through the smoky haze and seeming to see right through a person. She carried herself with an air of calm authority, each step purposeful and commanding respect.
"You both know the rules, boys," she said, her voice smooth yet firm. "There's a reason we stay in business. Everyone's welcome, but grievances and everything else need to be taken outside."
I tipped my hat to her, acknowledging her presence. "Seraph," I greeted.
She narrowed her eyes at me, a silent warning in their depths. "I'm not kidding," she added, her tone brooking no argument.
"Well," I said, turning to look at Decimus, who was watching us with a smirk playing on his lips. "Should we take this—"
Without warning, a sharp pain exploded in my shoulder as a bullet lodged itself deep into the muscle. I wrinkled my nose in irritation rather than pain. This wasn't the first time I'd been shot, and it sure as hell wouldn't be the last.
"Sorry, Seraph," I said as I stood up, my voice calm despite the throbbing wound. "He shot me."
"Hey, you're supposed to be dead," Decimus said, disbelief coloring his voice.
I snorted, more amused than angry. "From a shot in the shoulder? No wonder your older brother is the right-hand. You're a fucking fool, boy."
Reaching for my mare's leg with one swift motion, I aimed it at Decimus. But before I could pull the trigger, one of his men came up behind me and smashed a beer bottle against the back of my head.
"Christ," I muttered, thrown off balance but still standing. Annoyance flickered across my features as I shook off the dizziness.
As the bottle shattered against my skull, I staggered but didn't fall. A century of brawling and bounty hunting had hardened me, making my reflexes sharp and instincts deadly.
The first man lunged at me with a knife, but I was quicker. My mare's leg flashed out, and I fired a shot point-blank into his chest. The force of the bullet sent him sprawling backward, his knife clattering to the floor.
Decimus's men hesitated for a split second, their eyes wide with shock. It was all the opening I needed. With a smooth motion, I swung my gun around and fired again, hitting another attacker squarely between the eyes. Blood sprayed as he crumpled to the ground.
The third man charged me from the left, trying to tackle me to the floor. I sidestepped his clumsy attack and brought my gun down on the back of his head with a sickening crunch. He dropped like a sack of potatoes, unconscious before he hit the ground.
Two more men closed in on me from either side, their fists raised and ready to strike. I ducked under a wild punch from one and drove my elbow into his gut, feeling the air rush out of him as he doubled over in pain. Before he could recover, I grabbed his head and smashed it against the bar counter, leaving him dazed and bleeding.
The last man swung a broken bottle at me, aiming for my throat. I caught his wrist in mid-air and twisted it sharply, forcing him to drop the weapon with a yelp of pain. With my free hand, I brought my mare's leg up and fired once more, the bullet tearing through his shoulder and rendering him useless.
Decimus watched all this unfold with a mixture of anger and fear etched across his face. He reached for his own weapon, but I was already moving, pulling bullets and loading six more.
In one fluid motion, I leveled my gun at him and pulled the trigger. The shot rang out in the smoky haze of The Seraph's Embrace, echoing through the room like a death knell.
Decimus staggered back as the bullet hit his chest. He blinked, blood dripping from his lips before he collapsed. I watched him fall, his eyes wide with shock and pain. No one got up from that.
I moved back to the men I'd left unconscious. They were sprawled on the floor, breathing, but unaware of the world around them. One by one, I finished the job, my blade swift and merciless. I couldn't risk them coming after me later.
"D!" Seraph's voice cut through the haze of smoke and blood. "The rules!"
I shrugged, wiping the blood from my knife onto a rag. "He fired first," I said simply.
Seraph's violet eyes bore into me, but she didn't argue. The rules were clear, but exceptions always existed in this place.
I went over to Decimus's body and pulled out a box cutter. With practiced precision, I severed his head from his shoulders. Blood pooled around his lifeless form as I stood up, holding the head by its hair.
With one hand, I reached into my coat and pulled out a couple of angel feathers. They glowed faintly in the dim light of the bar. I placed them on the surface of my table, a way to attempt at some kind of recompense at the destruction to Seraph's establishment. They were rare and worth more than a house.
I downed the second glass of whiskey in one gulp, wishing it could numb me, even just a little. The burn was satisfying but ultimately hollow. No drink could drown my demons—not the ones inside or out.
When I finished, I tipped my hat to Seraph in acknowledgment. She watched me with a mixture of resignation and something like respect.
I stepped out of The Seraph's Embrace and into the night, Decimus's head still clutched in my hand. Bounty 665 was ready to be turned in.
Chapter 3
Everly
Elise and I made our way down the narrow, dimly lit corridor that led to the mess hall. The bunker was a maze of steel and concrete, with pipes snaking along the ceilings and walls. The hum of generators filled the air, mingling with the distant chatter of our community members. It was a familiar sound, one that had been a constant backdrop to our lives.
