Divine Descent

Chapter Thirty-Five

Only beings of the afterlife can enter Hell. Even fewer can enter the Eighth Heaven.

Undead but charged with immortality, Elijah de Ricci does not possess the clearance to abide in either. The ensorcelled masque, a grand spectacle of wealth and divine power, rages in the peak of the night. Only the man holding me stands apart from the rest, lacking a proper costume.

A mask would have helped conceal him, but as he regards me intensely, I'd wager the headstrong vampire has no intention of hiding his face.

I stumble nervously over my words. "Are you dead?"

He's been dead for over seven-hundred years, but thankfully, he understands the route of my question, requiring no clarification.

"I'm no spirit."

"A god then?"

I'm just spouting things out now.

He shakes his head. "No."

"Then how?" I grasp his clothing, excitement surging through me. Overwhelmed enough that my eyes have watered, I smile with relief to be able to hold him. "How are you here?"

I receive no answer.

In fact, it isn't until I notice his line of sight has moved beyond me resolutely that I realize the music has stopped. The dancers no longer sway and swoon. Their piqued attention now rests between us and the man standing at the foot of the table, just before the carpeted stairs. Elevated, all can see his ire. The king of this realm remains calm in the face of betrayal, on the outside at least.

On the inside, I'm sure his hate has climbed to new lengths.

Elijah examines me, composed and emotionless. Stupidly, all I can do is gawk and paw after him as he releases me in order to advance towards our devilish opponent. He clears the distance in steady strides, paying no mind to the chatter that buzzes when gods and demons alike realize this vampire is not of this world.

This vampire has somehow traveled time itself. My bets are on Jehovah.

The Light God stands directly beside his brother, watching the spectacle unfold. His proximity to his impulsive sibling immediately makes me question his involvement. Surely he wouldn't be so near if he were behind this. Samael's visibly shaken, silent, eyes sharp on the man who stole my heart, who showed it light, an irreparable act that destroyed our chance before we ever met.

Torches line Elijah's path. The flames release whiffs of tuberose and patchouli into the dense air, creating an aura of sensuality. That is what the in-between is. A place where temptations come to fruition, where the spirit can unleash without consequence.

Elijah's hair is pulled back like the first day I met him, half tied, half left hanging to his shoulders. The stiff black leather he wears conforms to his muscular figure, an enticing aphrodisiac to the depraved. The nefarious creatures of the divine, who notably worm their way through one another and take whatever pleases them, eye him like a prize to be won.

Their hungry regards stir up the possessiveness in me. I push my way through the frozen dancers, the billowy skirts, regardless of the looks I receive. Elijah stops at the base of the stairs to take conference with the devil above him. Samael's attention diverts from him only when he notices me following close behind, not oblivious to my protective nature. It makes his lip curl aggressively.

"How did you manage this?"

"With difficulty."

"It's not possible."

"Yet I am here. Flesh and bone."

Samael descends a step. "You realize what you've done coming here? What you've done to her? To the world you care so much for?"