Page 125 of His Atonement
I nod. "I agree to your terms. I understand what has been decreed and shall follow through as requested."
"And do you agree as well, brother?" The Maker turns to Him then laughs. "I ask merely as a courtesy because you have no real say."
"I agree, sister. This benefits me no matter how it plays out, leaving less blood on my hands."
"So be it." The Maker steps to the center of the room and lifts her arms. "To The Desolate Plane then. But first…" She reaches toward me, her robes hovering over my heart and before I can protest, The Maker removes Frankie's soul from my body, holding it between us briefly before it disappears. "Her soul will remain in my care for safekeeping until the deed is done."
I glance at Colt, the feral wolf still protecting my mate fiercely and nod, then look upon her and silently pray that I do her justice.
This, as is everything I've done since she entered my life, is for Frankie. I will perform The Sinner’s Sacrifice for her and her alone, succeed in my new mission so that she has what is owed to her, and if for some reason I fail, I pray that The Maker takes pity on my darling girl for mating me. Perhaps then she will not be damned despite this new deal.
Then again, it is not in The Creator of Life's nature to show kindness to demons or their associates.
Which definitely means I cannot fail.
It is simply not an option.
No Soul To Spare
The Desolate Plane.
A place no one but my kind have ever seen, a place few believe exists.
As demon, I knew without doubt of the existence of such a place because this is where demons are born.
There was no need to share that with my sister or her mate before, no reason to confirm that it is a horrible place that does indeed exist, nor did I have the desire to explain how I know.
Returning to this terrible land full of lost souls, creatures riddled with madness that howl their extreme pain endlessly has reminded me of that fact tenfold.
A wasteland.
A desert.
Dead trees, scorching heat, things resembling animals scurrying about, though they are the furthest thing from what one considers the true meaning of the word.
And the countless beings that have become Fallen Ones; their albino bodies, elongated features, and stretched limbs offset by oddly beautiful though tormented faces.
Yes, this is where I was born, where I was brought into existence, and just as quickly, I was ejected from this world into the mortal one, my purpose already ingrained in my mind.
Needless to say, I am not so happy to be home.
I watch as The Maker constructs an arena of sorts, Her black light swirling, expanding and contracting to form walls around us. Walls that do not block out the awful wailing of those doomed here.
At one end I stand alone, still dressed in my mesh shorts and mourning linens though I am now shirtless and barefoot. My wedding band still sits on my finger, The Maker once again surprising me by allowing it as well as the mourning linens to remain.
I spin the white gold with my thumb, envision the moment my mate slipped it on my finger, her inscribed words practically tangible against my hypersensitive skin.
A requirement for collecting souls and possession that will surely be a major disadvantage in my impending battle. And despite that, despite all that sits on my shoulders, everything that is hanging in the balance, I am calm.
My pulse is steady, my focus clear and locked solely on Frankie, on all I must do for my darling mate, the victory that I must attain for her sake, not mine.
Across from me, at the other end of this makeshift battlefield stands Thologar.
He is pacing, fists clenched, jaw tight. His brow is covered with a light layer of perspiration, something I find rather interesting.
I do believe Thologar the Insidious One is fuckingnervous.
Good.
