Redemption

Chapter 35

In myth, the Carpet of Solomon was a flying carpet that allowed the wise king to transport whole armies of thousands of men. In truth, the carpet was much smaller than that but no less magnificent. Created not only to aid Solomon, the carpet can also seek out his other artifacts. Its flight path will lead to the ring.
~Bezaliel~

"You want me to what?" I shrieked.

He pointed at the carpet but didn't say a word. We fly? Not this half Angel creature! I didn't do heights.

I started to turn away but Marcas grabbed my shoulders, his grip pushing me firmly toward the carpet. The alarms around us were deafening.

"Go, Blainey! Now!" he ordered.

I swallowed hard, my legs shaking as Marcas shoved me roughly from behind. "Oh, this is just great! We've gone from the Bible to Arabian Nights," I grumbled. Marcas continued to force me forward, and I added, "I'm going, okay!"

I was incredibly freaked out by heights. He knew this. Even my pride couldn't keep me from hyperventilating.

Stepping forward gingerly, I gasped. "At least tell me this thing has seatbelts. It's the law right? Click it or Ticket."

"Just sit and be still. Do that and you'll be fine," Marcas said.

He was annoyed I could tell, but I was too shaken up to care. "Easy for you to say," I mumbled as I sat cross legged, as close to the center of the huge rug as I could get.

I'm sure he'd clocked some massive frequent flyer miles in his Demonic lifetime. The only trip I'd made had been to Italy and my stomach still protested at the thought. To make matters worse, this wouldn't be inside a vehicular metal body. We'd be completely exposed to the elements.

Marcas sat behind me, so close my back lay against his chest. I tried not to wiggle, his proximity unnerving me.

"If you're that bothered by it, just close your eyes, Blainey," Marcas hissed.

The tone of his voice made me defensive. "I'm not bothered by it."

The alarms grew louder, the sound effectively cutting off his answering snort.

The carpet suddenly moved, and I yelped. Oh, my God! Just breathe, Blainey."

"Just fucking breathe!"

"Your mouth is going to get you into trouble, Dayton," Marcas said from against my back.

I cursed. "Thanks for the insight, Craig."

He fell silent. Maybe I did need to watch my language more. I didn't need more trouble than I already had.

The carpet moved upward, and I forced myself to breathe evenly. I wanted to close my eyes, but doing so meant admitting I was afraid. I didn't like heights, but I wasn't a coward. I could do this.

Stubbornly, I gazed straight ahead, watching as the night sky enveloped us. Stars twinkled, closer than the norm, and I concentrated on the beauty rather than the fact we were getting higher. Wind whipped my hair, and I shivered.

"It's a chilly way to travel," Marcas murmured, his voice breaking through the night as he leaned closer. Leather material fell around me, and I realized he'd used his powers to produce the jacket he'd worn when we first met. Not only was the leather warm, but it kept my vision limited. And yet, as thankful as I was for the warmth, I was just as irritated by his help.

"If you start singing A Whole New World, Aladdin, I'll puke," I muttered.

Marcas stiffened. "A simple thank you would have sufficed."

Screams met the night from below us, and I glanced down, startled. The movement made me grab for Marcas' jacket. Not only was the distance terrifying but so was the scene laid out before us. The battle was still raging, the members of the S.O.S frenzied as they fought off the Demons we'd led to them while frantically moving toward the house. They'd heard the alarms.

A tear slid down my cheek. "I'm a traitor," I sobbed.

The wind whipped the words out of my mouth.
Marcas leaned closer. "We need the ring, Blainey. The carpet will take us to it. Even your friends understand that or they wouldn't have helped."

I found no comfort in his words. I was a traitor. I was aiding and abetting a Demon. That simple fact remained.

Looking up at the sky, the height suddenly seemed less important to me than the magnitude of what I'd just done. People were dying below us. Conor was battling with them, Monroe and Lita were helping the Coven, and most of the Jacobs family was working to help the S.O.S. The Jacobs had always taken care of me in some fashion or another, and I was betraying them.

My tears came faster. The wound on my neck throbbed. The light pushed at it, and I cried out as the last of the poison dripped down my neck.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, the cloudy image of a very beautiful woman wavered in front of my face. Cringing, I pushed myself into Marcas. What was this?

Marcas' arms fell around me, and I knew he could see her as well.

"Son," the woman chuckled, her gaze passing between us. She had raven hair with skin as alabaster as the moon. Her lips were as red as blood. She reminded me abruptly of Snow White minus the whole child-like, innocent princess persona. Her eyes shone red. "Daughter of Bezaliel, hear my cry. You will die, Naphil. If not tonight, then soon. Our battle isn't finished. It has just begun."

With that, she faded mist-like into the night as the poison on my neck dissipated. Another sob escaped. Marcas didn't have to tell me who the woman was. I knew. Her spider had bitten me, and she'd sent a personal message I couldn't ignore.

"Lilith," I whispered. My gaze went to the moon. It was full tonight.

My friends were fighting a battle I'd run from to find a ring I thought could end this war. Or at least manage to pacify most of the Demons and even Angels who might want me dead because of Marcas.

But I'd been wrong.

The ring would only fix one small problem in a huge tapestry of trouble. Even unbound, Lilith would want me dead. There would still be the S.O.S to face. I would still be a Naphil with untrained powers and nowhere to go.
My journey hadn't even truly started, the night serenaded by despair-filled cries as the carpet soared away.

Marcas' arm tightened around my waist possessively, his eyes meeting mine as I glanced up at him, and I realized something. I cared about him. I wasn't sure he gave a damn about me, but he seemed to feel the need to protect me. Possession, Alessandro had said, tended to destroy his relationships. Had this same possessiveness driven Sophia from him? Did he still love her?

"This is just the beginning isn't it?" I whispered.

His gaze found the stars before returning to my face, his face so near mine I could see the blue in his midnight eyes. If he had tried to kiss me then I may have let him.

Sighing, I looked away. He was what he was and I was what I was. No future in that.

He drew his jacket close again as I stared at the moon, the celestial body seeming to frown at me. "Blainey," Marcas replied. "We haven't even started."

My tears hit the carpet.