Redemption

Chapter 24

I have very little information on Marcas. This worries me. He seems tamer than most, but Demons are an unpredictable breed. They live to steal souls, break hearts, and wreak havoc.
~Bezaliel~

The week had caught up with me, and I slept deeply; waking only when Conor shook me gently to inform me we were switching flights.

We were on our last leg to Italy. The images of the next airport were vague, seen only through sleep drugged eyes as we made it to our gate and boarded the new plane. Monroe wasn't faring much better. This plane was bigger than the last and the four of us managed to share a row of seats in the middle, the plane having a 3-4-3 seat configuration. Monroe sat on the aisle followed by Conor, me, and Marcas.

As the plane took off, I leaned against one of Conor's shoulders while Monroe leaned against the other, both of us falling asleep. The rest of the flight was mostly a blank for me, vague moments of stirring, shifting, and drifting into oblivion.

Voices roused me awake, Conor's speech low as he asked, "What do you plan to do in Italy, Demon?"

If Marcas answered, sleep kept me from hearing it. There was darkness for a while, and then, "I've never heard of a Demon getting unbound from a person without taking his soul," Conor murmured. My face had fallen against his chest, and it vibrated against my ear, the feeling strangely comforting despite his words.

"The Angel in her could kill me," Marcas replied. "But it's not out of the question."

Anger made Conor's chest rumble. I wanted to tell him I didn't care, that I knew Marcas would kill me if he could, but I was too curious to interfere.

"You'd have to kill me first," he warned.

His bravado was impressive, but it wasn't the least bit intimidating. Or was it? Something about the way the thought struck me made me wonder if it was mine or Marcas'. Was I feeling Marcas' reaction to Conor's comment or mine? I hated this feeling of duality!

"Don't tempt me, gargoyle," Marcas growled.

There was silence, and then, "And you think the ring will work?" Conor asked.

"It's an option, but it may not be a solution. No one's ever tried it before."

"You think the church would relinquish it?"

"I'm not planning to ask."

Conor snorted. "Stealing is what you creatures do best."

"We murder too, Reinhardt."

There was a long pause, the threat having not gone unnoticed.

"What kind of danger are we looking at?"
Conor asked finally.
"You want me to make a list?"

"I want you to quit being a smartass."

"What kind of danger are we not looking at," Marcas answered. "Too many groups want us destroyed, the Demons are in an uproar, some of the Angels are convinced Dayton should be removed, and then there's my mother."

I fought the urge to shiver.

"Our most immediate threat?" Conor asked.

"The Swords of Solomon. The S.O.S."

"And they are?"

"The people who guard the ring."

I felt like a character in a Tolkien novel. There was another long pause, and I dozed again, my sleep restless and light. I woke easily when Conor muttered, "I won't let you hurt her."

"You don't have a say in the matter, gargoyle."

"My actions speak louder than words, Demon."

"You're in love with her," Marcas said. His statement jarred me awake.