Dark Divinity: A Cursed Book Page 3

  But I would stand in front of them all to protect Dro. It would kill me if that’s what it came down to, but I would die smiling as long as I knew she was safe.

  “Constance,” a deep voice rumbled.

  I jumped out of my thoughts, my hand going to my hip. I hate when people sneak up on me. I took a deep breath and forced myself to relax as Warrick came around me. The circles growing under his eyes were even more prominent now, making his green eyes seem even brighter than usual.

  “We have what we need,” he said.

  I peeked over his shoulder to where Dro and Max were idly browsing the shelves of the convenience store. They were holding a small grocery basket filled with new backpacks, pre-packaged shirts, water, and dried food. Warrick had gone to an ATM machine at the back of the store and withdrawn some money so we wouldn’t leave a paper trail. In the past, I would have just stolen it all. But I was a wanted woman, and with all the chaos the demons were causing, the law was out in full force. I wasn’t about to risk being separated from my sister by being stupid and getting arrested for stealing beef jerky.

  I made sure my hoodie was hiding my face as I moved away from the shelf and tried to look composed. I didn’t like being in shops. They were cramped, there were cameras that may or may not work, the street was close by, robberies were common, and the shopkeepers were usually scowling at me. I wouldn’t be surprised if the overweight clerk staring daggers at me now had a double barrel under the counter pointed right at my ass.

  “Then let’s go,” I said.

  He looked like he wanted to say something else, but I brushed past him before he could. Warrick had seen me collapse before, the night Dro was captured by demons. I’d fallen apart and he literally held me together, taking me into his arms so I could scream and cry against his chest.

  I didn’t want to be that damaged twenty year old woman on a hotel balcony again. Emotion had nearly broken me that night. I refused to let it happen twice. I was colder now than I was before, and being cold meant pushing Warrick away.

  Dro and Max saw me coming, and left their conversation. I felt a little depressed about that. It seemed like I could only bring out the seriousness in people. Every time I approached someone, they looked at me as if I was carting around the plague. My sister had to raise her head a little so she could see from under the black baseball hat I’d stolen for her. Dro had scolded me about reverting to our old, wicked ways, but she was a beautiful, memorable young woman, and she needed to be concealed as much as possible while we were on the run.

  Besides, it wasn’t my fault the guy just left the hat in the back of his truck before he jaywalked across the street. The way I saw it, we were squared.

  “Warrick is ready to pay,” I reported blandly. “Max, why don’t you help him?”

  He pouted, lifting the basket. “This stuff isn’t as light as it seems. I don’t want to keep carrying it around.”

  I raised my eyebrows at him. “And here I thought you were a chivalrous gentleman.”

  “I am,” he countered. “But I’m not a luggage boy, either.”

  “Carry enough of those and maybe you’ll start getting muscle definition,” Warrick teased.

  I tensed again, cursing myself for not hearing him come up behind him. I needed to pay more attention. Next time it might not be a friend who snuck up on me. I forced myself to relax, and wished he wasn’t so damn close. But also wishing he would get closer.

  “Yeah, but that means a lot of work,” Max pointed out. “I think I’ll stick with being the brains of the group.”

  Warrick chuckled and reached around me to take the basket from Max. The movement caused him to lean in until his chest was brushing my shoulder. It was impossible not to feel the warmth of his body and smell his musky, pine scent. I stayed very still, trying not to remember how comfortable his arms had been, or how his lips had tasted.

  “Meet you guys outside?” he asked me.

  “Sure,” I replied, quickly moving away from him and concentrating on Dro instead. “Come on, let’s get some air.”

  Dro nodded and walked out of the store with me. She glanced back at the guys, but I never did. Having Warrick in our group was a huge relief, but sometimes I wished he weren’t so damn attractive. Or compassionate. Or patient. Or loyal. That he didn’t make my heart ache every time I saw him. It was a huge distraction.

  Once we were out of the store, I turned into the alley and rested my back against the wall. I pushed my hood back and looked across the street, hoping I didn’t look too much like a drug dealer anymore. It was mid-morning on a weekday, so the street wasn’t very busy. There were a couple people walking by, but they were moving too quickly to notice me watching them. Everyone had a tense, uncomfortable stride these days. It was getting harder and harder to figure out who was possessed and who was just cranky. The Possessors were getting smarter.

  I rested my hand on the hilt of my hatchet, hidden under my black military jacket, and looked down the sidewalk closest to me. There were some businessmen, a couple walking a dog, a bicyclist, and a man in a dirty coat shouting at them all. I kept my eyes on him until I knew he was just a crazy preacher.

  “Repent! Demons walk amongst us! Repent and be saved by the angels!”

  I sniggered to myself. If only that greasy bastard knew what angels were really like.

  The autumn sun was still out and warming the concrete, but it was colder in the shadows. The alley smelled like stale bread, but Dro and I had been homeless for about four years. We were used to the smell.

  Dro stood across from me, giving me a sour look. “We really need to work on your relationship skills, big sister.”

  “Yeah, I’ll put that on my list of things to do, right under wearing a frilly pink dress and a tiara.”

  Dro folded her arms over her chest. “You’re way too stubborn.”

  I glanced at her. “Fine. If I say that Warrick is smoking hot and a terrific fighter, will that be enough for you?”

  She grinned a little, brushing a strand of snow-white hair behind her ear to hide under the baseball cap. The length of her hair was tied in a ponytail and tucked into the back of her denim jacket so it could hardly be seen.

  “It’ll do. There’s still hope for you, Con.”

  I stifled a laugh and looked out onto the street again. My eyes went back to the crazy street-preacher.

  “You must save yourselves! Beg forgiveness of the Lord! Ask His angels to bring you to Heaven! Do not submit to the lure of demons!”

  My thumb ran up and down the hilt of my hatchet. I looked away from the preacher and focused on my sister. Max and Warrick would be back soon, and I didn’t know when I was going to be able to talk to her alone again. Her eyes scanned mine. Her smile started to fade as she saw how grim I was.

  We looked as opposite as possible. My skin was darker, my black hair short and down to my chin, my face, lips, and nose thinner, and my body athletic instead of curvy. However, Dro and I were closer than most sisters. We’d been through Hell and back ever since I found her as a baby in the middle of a forest. I’d been four years old when I made my parents adopt her. I never regretted my actions, even with all the horrible things happening to us, but being so close to me for so long meant that Dro could tell when we were about to have a conversation she wasn’t going to like.

  “Dro, back at the warehouse...” I started dumbly, and couldn’t finish the rest of my sentence.

  I believed in giving and getting hard truths from everyone, except Dro. My sister wasn’t weak, but the world was against her. Despite it all, she never complained, never threw tantrums or whined about how we didn’t stand a chance no matter what we did. She stayed brave and strong, kind and sympathetic, determined and hopeful. If anyone in the world deserved to be saved, it was my sister.

  Dro looked down and rubbed the sleeves of her jacket. “I don’t know what happened in the warehouse, Con. I just reacted.” Her eyes lifted to meet mine. “I feel different, though. Stronger. I have all these p
owers, and it’s like they’re amplified now. I can sense thoughts and emotions from greater distances, I can heal people faster,” she hesitated, “and I guess now I can control the hellfire.”

  “Do you feel like you have a lot more control? That the nightmares can stop?”

  She shook her head. “They haven’t stopped, Con. I still have them.” A bleak shadow came over her face. “I still see myself hurting and killing people. I’m burning angels and doing disgusting things with demons.”

  The shadow turned into fear. Her hand slid into her jacket and stopped at her right side, exactly where her rib was missing. “Other times I have Lucifer’s voice telling me to kill Warrick and Max. He says that you’re holding me back, that my suffering is your fault and I should eat your beating heart.”

  A shiver ran down my spine, but I kept my face empty of fear. I couldn’t think of anything to say. I was about to tell her that it was just Lucifer fucking with her head and trying to draw her out so he could make her his ally to take on the Heavenly Host.

  But then my mind flashed to the image of my sister lying on a cold, stone altar, covered in blood and screaming in agony as her rib was torn from her body. If I had been stronger, faster, and smarter, it never would have happened.

  If I had been able to protect her when I should have, the Gates would still be closed.

  “What do you think, little sister?”

  Dro’s expression was strained. Her eyes went distant again, her mind starting to wander somewhere I wished it wouldn’t go.

  “Everyone wants me for something. The demons want to use nightmares to scare me over to their side. Angels keep prodding at my mind.” She sighed and hugged her body. “I’m going to go insane before this is over.”

  I pushed off the wall and walked to Dro, putting my hands on her shoulders. “You won’t. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

  She let out a shaky breath and hugged me tightly.

  “Promise you won’t let me give in. Don’t let me lose myself.”

  I smoothed her hair. “I promise.”

  Someone screamed. I broke away from Dro and whirled around, grabbing the hatchet off my hip. She stayed behind me as I poked my head out of the alley.

  Two businessmen stood over the street-preacher, who was crumpled in a motionless heap at their feet. They held bloody knives in their hands. Bystanders were running away. A random murder in broad daylight. Only one thing could cause that.

  “Possessors,” Dro breathed from my back.

  My heart started pounding. I had been possessed once, before I got an anti-possession sigil tattooed on my chest. It only lasted a few hours, but it had been some of the most horrible hours of my life. I would never forget the helplessness and pain I endured during my possession.

  Sirens blared. Red and blue lights were flashing. People were shouting. I looked at Dro.

  “Cops,” I hissed.

  I risked another quick look down the other end of the street. Warrick and Max were steps away from the alley with the bags of supplies. Their eyes were fixed on the murder up ahead, but they quickly found us. I flipped up my hood, touched Dro’s arm, and tugged her out of the alley. I walked briskly in the opposite direction of the murder.

  The shouts began to fade, but the sound of gunfire didn’t. I jumped about a foot in the air when I heard the four shots and the screams that followed. I spun on my heel and grabbed the hilt of my hatchet. The cops had shot the two businessmen dead. People started screaming and pointing at the thick black cloud that funneled out of the dead men’s mouths. The smoky demons flew down the other end of the street, far away from us.

  I grabbed my sister’s wrist and pulled her after me. The Possessors didn’t seem to know we were here, probably distracted and high from their killing, but if they came back and saw my sister, we would be screwed. Possessors were hard to kill, and could easily report what they saw to their King.

  People on the street were still screaming, but I walked as though I didn’t have a care in the world. Violence came into my life at an early age. I learned to accept it, and was able to turn my back to it when the gun wasn’t pointed at me...

  It took us about a week to get to Ciudad Juárez after we survived the slaughter at Owl Creek. With our parents dead and no other family to turn to, I had to steal some money to bribe a smuggler for a seat on the truck going back into Mexico. My plan was to find someone my dad used to know before he came to America. He never talked about his old life, but he must have friends down here. Someone had to be willing to help us.

  The smuggler didn’t ask many questions, and kicked us out of the truck as soon as we were at the border. I had wanted to go deeper into Mexico. I’d heard stories about Ciudad Juárez on the news. They called it Murder City. Drug cartels ruled the streets and terrorized everyone they could. Anyone who stood in their way was ruthlessly murdered. I had heard of an entire family, including children as young as four, being stabbed to death over hundred dollar debts. Rape and the murder of women was an every day occurrence. Mass graves were found all the time. Heads literally rolled on the streets.

  I couldn’t imagine a worse place for a fourteen year old girl and her scared ten year old sister to be. But we didn’t have anywhere else to go.

  The houses of the city were crammed together and desperately needed paint jobs. The shops were rundown and heavily padlocked. Everything smelled like petrol and salt. Car horns blared angrily as traffic signs and pedestrians were virtually ignored. The heat made me sweat constantly. It really did feel like Hell on earth.

  People wore cheap, ratty clothes and didn’t offer us any help. Vendors shouted for us to buy meat that looked like charcoal. Thin stray dogs with molting fur lay in the middle of the streets, most of them not appearing to be breathing. I didn’t want to attract attention, so I stole a shirt and gave Dro a hoodie to help hide her face and her hair. We tried to change her hair from white to black with hair dye a couple times, but the boxes I stole must have been cheap brands because the color washed out whenever we found a public washroom to clean ourselves in. Most of the people only spoke Spanish. I wasn’t fluent in it, but Mom and Dad had taught me enough to get by. Dro barely spoke at all.

  The first night was the scariest. We didn’t have a place to sleep, and staying out in the open on the streets was dangerous. We managed to find some boxes and garbage bins behind a taco restaurant. We ate some of the thrown out food and used the boxes and bins for shelter. I kept my father’s hatchet close, terrified that I would need to use it on a person one day.

  We were trying to get some sleep when I heard the fight. Taking out my hatchet, I kept Dro behind me and peeked out from the metal bins. Three men were beating up another man. It was too dark for me to see their faces and I couldn’t hear what they were saying. I was watching a brutal shadow-puppet show on the wall. They kicked, punched, and stomped on him for what seemed like forever. Then two of the men lifted him up by his arms and held them out. The third man took out a machete. He used it to hack off the beaten man’s arm.

  His scream cut into my heart. I watched the shadows as blood gushed from his wound out into the alley. Dro was trembling behind me, covering her ears with her tiny hands. The man with the machete cut off the beaten man’s other arm. More blood sprayed onto the stucco walls. He dropped onto the ground, bleeding everywhere. He tried to get up, but he had no hands to push himself to his feet. He never stopped screaming.

  The man with the machete said something I couldn’t hear. Then he raised the machete and brought it down on the man’s neck. His head snapped onto his shoulder at a horrible angle. There was one more chop, and suddenly his screams stopped. After that it was way too quiet. One man picked up the severed head while another dropped something onto the corpse. Then they walked away.

  I stared at the body, the entire scene stuck on repeat in my mind. One arm being cut off, then the other. Endless screams. His head being severed. The smell of blood.

  Dro and I didn’t sleep that nigh
t. In the morning, I covered her eyes and led her down the other end of the alley. I only looked back once to see what had been left on the chopped up body.

  On top of the corpse that was still surrounded in thick pools of blood, was something that looked like a red rose.

  We started sleeping in shifts. We moved around the city, finding out where the gangs were and doing our best to stay as far away from them as possible. We didn’t beg, but I started stealing more, taking little things like food and clothes. We talked to vendors and merchants, but no one seemed to know our father.

  It wasn’t an ideal life, running and hiding and stealing, but after a couple days we had a system. Dro distracted people by looking lost and curious, and I pick-pocketed them. I didn’t see any monsters and Dro didn’t hear them, but I tried to watch for them as often as I could. All the gunfire and sirens made it hard to focus, but we kept going.

  I stupidly thought our luck would last.

  I was digging through garbage bins, trying to find food while Dro watched my back. We were a fair distance from gang territory, but I knew better than to think they’d stay in one place.

  “Connie,” Dro said urgently, grabbing the bottom of my shirt and tugging it.

  I barely got out of the bin when the men arrived. They looked like giants, their muscles bulging from under their black T-shirts. One of them was bald, another had greasy, shoulder-length hair, and the third had a scar over his eye. All of them had the same tattoo on their body– a rose whose thorns looked like they were weaving in and out of the skin, dripping blood out of the wounds.

  I’d heard of this gang. The Espanis de Sangre. The Blood Thorns. The deadliest, most feared cartel in all of Ciudad Juárez. They dealt more drugs and made more money than any other gang in the city. Thorns were everywhere, always buying weapons and dealing drugs. They even had an army of enforcers who brutally killed rival gangs and people who couldn’t pay their debts.