Touched by Darkness: (Sins of The Fallen Book 2)

“Amenadiel!” I shout, barging through the house like a woman on a mission.

Scrap that. I am a woman on a mission. It’s been three days since Daemon dismissed me like dirt beneath his shoe.

Three days of watching him parade girls in the hallways and emerge out of janitor’s closets with his hair in disarray and lipstick marks on his neck.

I was blessed the first time around when I met Daemon. I never had to witness this side of him. The others told me stories of what Daemon was like before I stepped on the scene, but it’s painful to witness it myself. I want to shake him. Scream at him.

Anything to get him to see me. And only me. Not all the other girls throwing themselves at him.

I guess it’s a relief to know no one else sticks. Daemon fucks them once and then ignores them. He doesn’t chase them and torment them like he did me.

The only girl who can rightfully stake a claim on him in these hallways is Dariana. It’s evident they’re friends, and I already know they fuck from my first stint on this playground.

I call it a playground because, otherwise, it would truly be hell.

I never thought I would find myself pining and longing for someone—make that plural—who doesn’t even remember me and what we had.

Even Ronan is oblivious. He sat behind me today in class, completely unaware.

It hurt. More than I should have allowed it to.

“Amenadiel,” I roar, surprised the windows don’t rattle as I walk past.

“What is the ruckus about?” he asks, emerging from his office a couple of doors down.

I make a beeline for him, and he steps back inside, then gestures for me to take a seat.

“What can I help you with today, Angel?”

I plop down, then place my hands flat on his desk. “I’ll get right to it. I’m a fallen angel now. I want to learn how to manipulate fire, and you’re gonna teach me.” Leaning forward, I let my biggest, most nefarious smile emerge. “I don’t just want to learn to manipulate fire. I want to be able to throw fireballs at Daemon’s ass from afar.”

Amenadiel chokes on his spit. “You want me to teach you how to throw fireballs at the heir to the throne?”

“Well, something to that effect. Fireballs, fire blasts, fire bolts, whatever.”

“Forgive me for feeling a bit confused. I thought you didn’t want me to hurt Daemon.”

Resting back against the chair, I wave my hand dismissively in the air. “I don’t, but I’m fed up with being ignored.” I lean forward again and bite out, “I am not a girl you ignore.”

“I gather that.”

“I don’t care for your sarcasm, Amenadiel. Teach me how to manipulate magic so I can singe his ass.”

Amenadiel starts to chuckle, then lifts his hand and throws a fireball at me.

I only just manage to duck out of the way.

“Like that?”

“What the hell?” I blurt, staring behind me at the curtains that are currently burning up.

With a click of his fingers, the fire extinguishes.

“You want to singe his ass?”

Dragging my eyes away from his ruined curtains, I swallow thickly. “I want to do something that’ll capture his attention.”

“Just strip naked. Why complicate matters?”

My eyes roll, and he chuckles again.

I can’t help but smile.

“You know what your nephew is like. If I let him have his wicked way with me without pissing him off first, he’ll lose interest afterward. I have a feeling you don’t want that to happen, hmm?”

Amenadiel ignores my jibe. “I’ll teach you how to channel fire magic, but I need you to know that it’s not just a case of conjuring a flame with your mind. You have to welcome the darkness and become one with it. You have to feed on and draw energy from the chaos you create. Are you sure you’re ready for that? Once you start welcoming the darkness inside you, it’ll catch ahold of you. It’ll seep into your veins and fill your heart like ink dripping from a pen, until you bleed evil. Whatever little good you have left inside of you will fizzle out like a candle in the dark.”

“I thought you said my light is gone.”

“It is,” he confirms. “But you have a long way to go until you’re one with Hell.”

“What do I need to do?”

His smile takes on a cruel edge. “We need to pay a visit to the human world.” The chair creaks as he stands up and gestures to the door. “After you, Angel.”

I reluctantly walk out and proceed down the hallway toward the front of the house. The cool night air seeps in through an open window to our left. It’s not raining tonight, and the stars are out in their full glory, twinkling brightly overhead.

Amenadiel lets his wings erupt as we step outside, causing a shift in the air so powerful that my hair lifts off my shoulders.

For a moment, I struggle to breathe, in awe at the sheer beauty of his wingspan. I should be used to it by now since I’ve seen Daemon’s wings plenty of times, but it still makes me pause.

He sees the look on my face and gestures for me to descend the front steps. “Don’t look at me like that, little angel, unless you want me to hurt you.”

“I’m not looking at you. Just your wings.”

“Semantics,” he drawls, his long coat moving in the wind. “Are you ready for this?”

“Probably not,” I admit.

“Definitely not.” He shoots up into the sky before I can gasp with outrage.

Insufferable prick.

I need him to teach me how to work fire magic, I remind myself. I can’t do it on my own, and I need to learn fast unless I want to look like a weakling in front of Daemon and the others.

I take flight, reveling in the cool breeze on my heated skin. My wings shift the air with ease as we soar off into the night with Amenadiel in the lead.

How the fuck did my life come to this? I’m now living and flying with Amenadiel, of all people. The man who caused me to break my wrist and who wanted to kill me to piss off his nephew. It doesn’t matter how many times the thought enters my head; I still can’t wrap my head around it.

I never will.

Amenadiel glances back at me, his powerful wings gliding through the air. “We’re about to cross the border to the human lands. Are you ready?”

“You tell me,” I quip, and he chuckles, then dives, shouting, “Definitely not.”

I dive after him, plummeting toward the ground at such speed that my stomach jumps to my throat, along with my heart.

Amenadiel lands with perfect grace, whereas I stumble and fall on my face.

Spitting out grass, I roll over on my back and grin up at the sky. “That was crazy.”

Amenadiel’s face blocks out the stars. “I thought you were aiming for the Earth’s core.”

“Very funny.”

He helps me up, and I brush grass and mud off my knees before looking around.

“Where are we?”

“You behaved like such a little fledgling. I figured it would be safest to land somewhere soft.”

“And?”

“This, my little angel, is a soccer field.”

I blink at him, then set off walking.

“That’s the wrong direction, unless you want to get eaten by wolves.”

I make a U-turn, walking past him.

He catches up to me. “I was joking about the wolves.”

“What happened to the mean and vicious Amenadiel who makes babies cry and grown men shake in their boots?”

“He’s still around, but I’m too busy with my elaborate schemes to let him out to play, remember?”

With a snort, I shake my head.

“See the lights up ahead? That’s a nice little suburban street, full of colonial-style houses with picket fences. Perfect for hunting.”

I trip over my feet but manage to right myself at the last second. “Hunting?”

“You haven’t fed since you arrived in Hell. If you want to stand any chance at singeing the royal ass, you need to keep your strength up. And not only that…” He winks at me. “You’ll need to create a little bit of chaos.”

“I don’t like how excited you sound.”

“Should I sound demure?”

As if my incisors can sense the humans, they begin to throb and elongate. I don’t have control of them yet, like Amenadiel, much to his amusement.

He pokes one with his thumb. “Fierce.”

And much to my embarrassment, I snarl, stopping short of snapping my teeth like a dog with rabies.

We reach the sidewalk, and Amenadiel whistles a haunting tune that reminds me of something out of a horror show.

When I look at him strangely, he does a double take.

“What?”

“What the fuck was that?”

“It’s my routine.”

“Routine?”

“You know, a ritual to get you in the mood?”

“Are you some weird stalker killer?”

Now he laughs. “I’m an ancient fallen angel, sugar. Of course, I have developed a routine after hundreds of years of hunting humans.”

“First, don’t ever call me ‘sugar’ again.”

“And secondly?”

“I don’t know. Stop being weird. You’re supposed to be scary. Don’t go hurting my first impressions of you. Remember the monster who stalked my nightmares for weeks on end? Where’s that guy?”

“Oh, you’ll see him come out to play soon,” he replies with a dark smile as we stop outside one of the houses. There is indeed a white picket fence and perfectly trimmed rose bushes.

“What are we doing here?”

Amenadiel flashes a hint of fang as he points to the house. “I present to you an American middle-class family who live on a boringly safe street, drive a predictably safe family car, save food stamps like they’re going out of fashion, and who cook their every meal according to a meal planner, which they prepare a week in advance, if not two. Their lives are the epitome of predictable.”

“So?”

“So,” he starts, grinning down at me. “We’re going to create a little bit of mayhem and chaos.”

“We’re not going to hurt them, are we?”

His voice is smoke and ashes as he starts walking up the driveway. “That’s exactly what we’re going to do.”

I run after him and try to pull him to a stop, but he’s too big and too strong to budge. “Stop, Amenadiel. We’re not going to hurt an innocent family.”

Shaking me off like an annoying child clinging to his leg, he turns to me on the first step on the porch. “Do you want to learn how to shoot firebolts or not?”

“Well, yeah, but—”

“No, buts. There is no easy way to let the darkness in. You just have to open yourself up to it and let go.”

“By killing people?”

His cheeks puff up, and he blows out a tired breath before rubbing his eyes. “It’s like dealing with a toddler. Look, precious little angel, I was from heaven once too, alright? I know firsthand how cruel this seems. And how unfair it is to spill the blood of the innocent, yadda, yadda. But this is what it means to be a fallen angel. We’re not good or kind. Everything in nature has a balance, and both good and evil play vital roles in the tapestry. Good cannot exist without evil and vice versa. God cannot exist without the Devil.”

“Is your little impassioned speech supposed to sway me into killing innocent people in cold blood?”

“Who would you rather kill? You have to feed, Angel. It’s in your nature now. Would it sit better with you if we broke into a prison and fed on murderers and rapists?”

“Hmm, good question. Let me think about it for a while.” I pretend to mull it over for all of two seconds before flashing him my most charming smile. “Yes, Amenadiel. It sounds like a much more preferable plan.”

“Alright then. Murderers and child molesters, it is.” He walks past me down the driveway. “Good luck trying to impress Daemon with a matchstick flame that flickers out in the slightest breeze.”

Growling, I stomp my foot like a two-year-old. “Fine!”

The triumphant smile on Amenadiel’s face rubs me the wrong way as he strides back to the porch.

“Please explain to me why this situation will be more useful than inmates?”

With his hand on the handle, he smirks at me over his shoulder. “You’ll soon find out for yourself.” Then he turns the handle and opens the door. “Did I mention they’re predictable? Don’t even lock their front door.”

I reluctantly follow him inside, my eyes closing briefly when I hear feminine laughter up ahead. I can’t believe we’re doing this. I’ve killed before. Been caught up in my own darkness. But this is different. This is tangible evil. I can feel it seeping in through my pores and blackening my heart. My vision slowly turns red, and my incisors throb painfully as we step into the living room.

The woman screams when she spots us, and her husband shoots up from the couch. Their kids are nowhere around. Probably asleep upstairs.

“Good evening,” Amenadiel says in such a friendly tone that I’m thrown for a second. But then it lowers, turning cruel and cold. “Did we interrupt your movie?”

“Wh-who are you?” the man stutters as he takes a protective stance in front of his wife.

Amenadiel flutters his wings with anticipation.

There’s that haunting whistle again. On and on it goes, like a chilling lullaby on repeat.

My ears twitch when I hear a faint gasp at the top of the stairs. Amenadiel hears it too, if the slow smile on his lips is anything to go by.

“Did you know that when an angel from Heaven first arrives in Hell, they seek morality where there is none? Even after the last of their light has flickered out—that smidgeon of goodness that made them one with God. They still cling to some sort of compass that will lead them out of the darkness. It’s ultimately what holds them back from power. It makes them weak.” He spits the last word. “It makes their hearts bleed when they see injustices and emotional suffering. It results in actions that hold them back from their full potential. It’s only when they let go and welcome their true nature that they get a taste of true power. The kind of power that God withholds.”

I’m trembling with fear. My palms are sweaty, and my heart rate has shot through the roof. But in the midst of that fear lies a seed of something truly monstrous. And when a shadow darts past me, instinct takes over. I have no impulse control.

Not when the wife makes a run for the phone on the console table. Her sudden movement startles the monster inside me, and now it’s game over. Did no one teach her not to make any sudden movements in the presence of a predator?

Her loud scream is soon cut off when I collide with her from behind. My wings are out, hiding her from Amenadiel’s view.

It’s another instinct. Protect my meal.

His dark chuckle tells me he understands exactly why I’m snarling at him over my shoulder while flaring my wings.

“Don’t mind her,” he says to the man. “She’s a baby and still has a lot to learn. Think of her as a primitive animal that acts on base instinct. As soon as she’s fed, she’ll come to her senses and probably cry herself to sleep. But for now, let’s enjoy the show.”

The woman whimpers when I stroke her brown hair away from her face and drag my fingers through the salty tears on her cheeks. The boys told me they seduce their victims because it makes them taste better. I highly disagree. The more scared she gets, the more alluring her scent becomes, and so I take my time with her until she’s pleading for her life.

Amenadiel has drained her husband and is walking back downstairs when he spots me still hunched over the woman.

“Little angel, we don’t have all night.”

Another loud snarl rips from my lungs, and he chuckles as he plops down onto the couch.

The TV soon starts to blare.

“Please,” the human begs, barely able to take a full breath while she’s crying uncontrollably.

“Sshh.” Her skin is so smooth, and it’s so easy to make it bleed. It’s everywhere, soaking through the fabric of my dress. I suck it off my finger, then press the tip over her trembling lips. I tap once, twice, feeling the seed of evil inside me blossom.

“Your family is dead.” My voice is a dark, smoky whisper. Like the hellfire singeing my fingertips.

I inhale her scream. I inhale it deep into my lungs.

So deep that I come alive.

Then I strike. My teeth sink into her slender neck, tearing through her jugular.

Flesh and tendons get stuck between my teeth as my hands slip and slide over her bloody skin. It’s a beautiful massacre of horror and destruction.

And from a single seed, a garden grows.