Redemption: Fire & Brimstone Scroll 5

Teaser

The cell was dark and dingy, cool, and slightly damp. A high window leaked just enough light to illuminate the moist stone walls, stained mattress—too thin to really be called a mattress—and the bruised body shackled to the floor. What should have been clean, breathable air had long since soured, thickening with the overwhelming stench of urine, body odor, and blood.

So much for heavenly accommodations, Beau thought as he tracked the dust motes floating lazily through the dull shaft of light.

His tongue was heavy with thirst, his throat raw. A rank film of sweat, dirt, and other manners of filth coated his skin, doing little to cover the mottled bruises coloring his body in a depressing tapestry of abuse. After three days in this stinking hole, deprived of Utopia's healing energy, fresh air, and sunlight, he had stopped healing. Purposefully drained of energy, he was left to rot in his own shit, his bones aching, his flesh torn to shreds.

This was almost worse than that damned basement he'd been confined to all those years ago. No one here had tried to tap his vein, so it wasn't quite worse. Almost, but not quite. It merely solidified his belief, or lack thereof, in his brethren. Angels were capable of just as much cruelty as demons. It was a lesson he had learned well long ago.

Angels. The Maker's crowning achievement. Or so they said.

To be honest, Beau preferred the company of humans. They were simple at times, and yes, they could be cruel, but they were real. They understood their faults, the flaws in their humanity. There was less subterfuge, and he appreciated their unapologetic honesty, even when they were wrong.

But angels? His people? Corrupt, deceptive, blind, the lot of them.

Yet that was the truth of all the Maker's creations. They were all capable of horrendous evil. Fallen, Angel, demon, or human, none of them were immune to the depravity infecting their very DNA. Not even Beau himself. He was just as bad as the rest, wasn't he? Even when he tried to make things right, to protect those he loved, he still managed to fuck it up.

When faced with his sins, he wondered whether he deserved all the shit he'd dealt with in his long existence. Maybe he did; maybe he didn't. But it wasn't like his brethren had done much to lend a helping hand. No, they'd left him to wither away in the depths of Hell at the hands and fangs of cruel masters. The law had been broken, but did the Council come for him? No. What was he to them but a lowly Dominion? People like him didn't matter to beings like them. Beau, Noel, lower angels tasked with menial work, they were protected as long as they were useful. But when they were nothing but a nuisance, they were forgotten.

He'd been locked in that nightmarish hell for weeks, praying to the Maker for deliverance. When it never came, he prayed for death. He wasn't granted that mercy either. Perhaps this time would be different. But he didn't hold out hope. There would be no knight in shining armor to rescue him. Not this time.

He shifted his position to alleviate the stiffness in his muscles but instantly ceased with a hiss. His ass throbbed, fresh blood wetting the inside of his thighs. The pathetic tunic they'd dressed him in had long since soiled, sticking to the dried blood hiding beneath. Unable to heal, he could do nothing but breath through the searing agony of ripped tissue and torn muscle.

It wasn't the first time he'd been held down against his will, fucked like an animal, and left to bleed. No, it wasn't the first time, and he feared it wouldn't be the last.

Footsteps thudded on the other side of the wooden door, and trepidation cinched Beau's throat. So soon? At this rate, they'd pulverize his insides until he drowned in his own blood—not that the angels fucking him would care. He was destined to lose his wings either way, so what was a bit of internal bleeding?