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Blue Dawn


The Sequel to the Blue Series


Part 2


By Josephine Dillon


Copyright 2017 © Josephine Dillon


Smashwords Edition


Edited by: Josephine Dillon and Michele Dupree Young


Ebook Photo and Cover Design: Craig Lambert http://lambertart.tumblr.com




Copyright 2017 © Josephine Dillon

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever, including but not limited to being stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the author.







For Dorothy~

As I wrote this book,

I felt your spirit over my shoulder,

reading every word.



For Michele ~

Thank you for always being just

a few clicks away

from every plot twist along the path

to the end of the journey.



Prologue

Blue Dawn Part 2 begins by backtracking to Chapter 26 of Blue Dawn Part 1. As the author, I recommend that you, the reader, begin this last book by rereading from Chapter 26 to the end of Blue Dawn Part 1. It encompasses roughly thirty pages, but it will refresh your memory, as well as lay the groundwork for this story’s beginning.

I could have started right where I had left off at the end of Part 1, but I made the decision to begin Blue Dawn Part 2 by starting with two main, secondary characters: Joel and Sarin. The Blue Series, as well as the Blue Dawn Series, rely on both primary and secondary characters to not only tell the story, but add layers upon layers to a complex, multi-world setting. Therefore, I felt it was important to develop several subplots in this last book. You will notice point of view will vary and change. It can also make for a confusing narration, but I had no choice. There were too many voices in my head to stick to just one or two. I ended up listening to all of them when I wrote this last book.

Love is a central theme in my Blue Series, however, the idea of second chances also plays a significant factor in almost every one of my characters. I do believe I have given them all a ‘second chance’ in this final story. You will see them change, evolve, and at times, regress, but the ability to start over runs paramount in creating Blue Dawn Part 2.

I hope you enjoy this labor of love. It took me a year to write it, and there were many stops and starts along the way. Since the Blue Series is such a long story, I tried my best to finish in a manner that I feel will leave you all able to continue the direction on your own, fill in where I left off, and make your own conclusions. Honestly, I could write this story forever, but there are other projects on my horizon.

With that said, thank you for reading my work, and God Bless you on your individual journeys.

~ Josie





Chapter 1

Homeward Bound

Now judgment is upon the world; now the ruler of this world will be cast out.”

John 12:31

Dillon remained dispersed in the Pacific. He didn’t want to leave yet — not because he was stubborn and refused to go, or even afraid of being caught and possibly destroyed. He stayed around for one reason only: Sarin was still lounging in his element, tempting his sensibilities, and beckoning him to explore.

He also felt Joel’s desire strongly in his water. The arousal was so pungent; it made Dillon hungry for more as he lay under and around the two of them, getting tossed back and forth and then cushioned in-between two hard bodies. Acting as a thin sheet, he slid under Joel right as Sarin wrestled and then pinned him there.

As they struggled in the shallow surf, Dillon fantasized about a threesome with a sly grin, and then realized there were no females in the mix.

Huh…

Stumped, he immediately tried to discredit the idea. The fantasy was simultaneously preposterous and tantalizing to think about at the same time, but he ultimately came to the conclusion that the three of them wrestling naked would be too far out of his comfort zone. He knew as he slid along their bodies, he would never share Sarin with another male at the same time. Joel would have to be far removed.

Continuing to disperse himself, he inspected Joel’s face up close for clues while Sarin forcefully pinned him down. Oh, how he wanted to slide a drop of water into Sarin’s ear — just to inform him Joel wasn’t resisting him in the traditional sense of the word. No, Joel was turned on, but bothered to have a shorter male working him from behind. The bigger, more aggressive member of their trio didn’t like being facedown. Smirking, Dillon assisted Sarin in keeping Joel in this position by maneuvering his element to work in the master elf’s favor.

That hot, flustered breathing, followed by the grunting when he couldn’t flip over, had Joel firmly setting his jaw to resist what his body was craving. He was just as conflicted with Sarin as Dillon figured he himself was — probably more so given David’s hopeful involvement.

Using his element to invade Joel’s mind, Dillon planted seeds of doubt meant to chip away at his heart’s armor.

It’s sad to witness you continue to hold a dying flame for my brother when he’s already long gone and in bed with someone far better than you, Joel. That’s why Sarin does not even register on your pelvic radar. He will never greet your strapping wood, let alone feel it inside him because he isn’t good enough — no one is but David — so don’t bother taking the plunge. Go ahead and pull your hook out, release him back into the water, and wait for another piece of Smith ass you know you’ll never ride again...

Water made the best friction — better than any cockblock possible. With his element calculating their orchestrated moves, there was no telling how many deliberate positions two of any sex could perform, yet still remain unable to do more than flop around in an uncoordinated fashion.

Joel was getting more and more flustered, Dillon could tell, and as he glanced down at that toned, muscular body, he had to admit; Joel was well-proportioned and strong, with shoulders wider than his. Slightly unnerved by that singular fact, he lined himself up against his competitor to actually compare sizes.

Damn.

Rationalizing that there was just a slight increase in Joel’s chest size, they were roughly the same height. Seeping into his skin through his pores, Dillon could taste the testosterone mixed with the sexual arousal, and it was building. The wonderful tension between them had him positioning himself on top of Joel and just below Sarin—

This is a nice sandwich…

After maneuvering his water to that spot, he too became aroused beyond measure. The violent aggression, the grunting, the anger, the pain of elbows, knees and body slams — all of it created a thrashing, chaotic environment ideal for male fucking. Dillon wouldn’t even think of taking Jessica this way. No, it was taboo, but the idea had him exploding with heightened curiosity.

As he reveled in the sadistic joy of watching them hurt each other, he smelled Joel’s lust the strongest. He was sex crazed, but in denial over his feelings for Sarin, and Dillon tried not to howl at the hypocrisy of the moment.

He loves my brother with all his heart, but he’s getting off on another male right now. Joel isn’t as pure and righteously ordained as I once thought. His dick is his demon, and although he’s saved it for only David, any pretty male with a mouth to match would make a nice parking space.

Somewhere in the back of Dillon’s mind, someone else was taking notes and calculating potentially devastating moves. Deliberately placed in the backseat so that he could cultivate his own madness, Nine would only interfere if David showed his face again. He was the only one capable of bringing the devil out of the cage, but for now, there was no reason to draw unwanted attention from Above.

Sitting back, kicking feet up and getting comfortable, Nine fed off all three testosterone-pumped souls. Their phenomes smelled absolutely delicious — better than any sin imaginable.

***

Dillon wanted to be on top. He needed to feel Sarin’s backside once more because he had a sinking suspicion it was above and beyond what he played with before. Pounding on top of them with the next high wave right as Joel was finally gaining the upper hand, Dillon sent him facedown into the surf. He wanted Sarin to win so that he could remain on top, and the loser of their threesome deserved a gallon of saltwater in his mouth for all his dirty impulses anyway.

Gripping and drenching Sarin in his element, the water to skin contact had Dillon heating the ocean several degrees. He yearned for him in the worst possible way. In fact, he wanted to enslave him. It was a desire to possess something for the simple gratification of ownership. He rationalized it as perfectly acceptable because he was the stronger male. He would take Sarin simply because he could.

Feeling every inch of his backside now, Dillon also wanted to strangle Dis Patter. The crippled Arch Devil didn’t do Sarin’s topography justice. Deformed and shamed by God, the idea of his nasty goat body morphing into such an exquisite piece of flesh was comparable to asking a weed to blossom into a juicy slab of steak.

Never gonna happen. It enraged him though, because now he demanded the real deal. He felt cheated and wrongly played. An encore to justify Sarin’s repeated violation was an entitlement, not a request. As Nine grinned disingenuously in the background, Dillon’s angelic soul loosened up and began to fray; bleeding into the darker recesses of the coldest realm and feeding the greed with the strongest food known to counter God’s Concept of Love: Lust.

The Sarin he was touching right now would have kept him in Dis Patter’s bed for hours and hours longer. A luscious dive into softly spun oblivion described the prized elf. Deciding to size up the competition, Dillon reluctantly washed over Joel once more, covering his head, face, and then his shoulders before traveling down the front of that hard body. Those abdominal muscles were firm and well accentuated, and as he gathered inside Joel’s pants, Dillon almost laughed out loud. His bulge was unfortunately very impressive.

I guess I’m not the only one waiting in line. I have some pretty stiff competition. Game on.

With Joel finally leaving the water, redirecting his member to point down, Dillon lingered in the tide for a few more minutes while they argued. Hearing the bickering, Sarin’s frustrations, and Joel’s lack of concern, he wanted to reappear before them both. Hesitating instead, he couldn’t be happier when Sarin surprised him by returning to his element after only a few more minutes.

A sexy frown on his face, along with both hands in the air, middle fingers up, Sarin’s depiction of a pissed off human had Dillon enjoying the send-off. It was a rare glimpse into the elf’s human adaptation. He was loosening up, embracing where he was, and having a few fun moments despite his earlier aggravations. They resembled quite the odd couple too; Joel laughing and mocking him, while Sarin looked ready to spit nails.

Admiring him as he gracefully treaded through the shallow surf, Dillon felt like a predator. The concept didn’t startle him though. He accepted the role because he felt stronger for it, and now, as he feasted on that defiant face, he refused to break away. Sarin had transformed into a vision of dark loveliness; even Nine was infatuated.

Stomping out a few more feet into the shallow surf, grumbling choice words no one else could hear, Sarin only chose to take off his shirt, despite Joel’s cat calls to strip completely.

Bending down, he scooped Dillon up in his hands, and splashed him across his abdomen. Repeating the move one more time to the delight of the water around him, he slid it down his front to remove the sand.

He then held his breath as single droplets traced down his pelvis like seductive fingers. Grabbing Dillon and splashing him across the front of his pants, Sarin opened his mouth and silently gasped as he felt a tongue trace along his throbbing groin. Wanting more, he dropped to his knees to completely submerge in that invisible face.

From the back, with the Pacific at his waistline, he appeared to be meditating. The water around him was surprisingly peaceful too, which added to the oddity of the scene; there were very few waves to alter or break up the crisp delineation of skin against white seafoam.

Refusing to look down, Sarin closed his eyes instead. He didn’t want to know. He couldn’t allow his vision to sabotage the most amazing thrill he had ever experienced. Hands caressed his backside lovingly, cupping his ass and tantalizing him to bend over. Without even thinking, he almost did, but caught himself with both arms. Palms down on the soft, shifting ocean floor, he could still feel someone underneath him. A soft moan escaped his mouth. He would have taken off his pants, but it didn’t matter. He felt naked anyway.

Dillon had permeated his skin, reaching every angle of his body easily. Below the waist Sarin was played to the tune of skillful, demanding hands. They worked him over, stopping and starting to keep him suspended and unable to finish. It was lovely madness, but he was hooked and focused on where he would feel that probing, flicking tongue next. Right as he slid a hand down to finish the deed himself, he mentally envisioned grabbing a handful of blond hair and guiding Dillon to finish.

“Hey, what are you doing?”

Startled beyond measure, Sarin fell backwards with his legs in the air. The image of him on his back had Joel pointing, laughing, and secretly wishing he was in between.

Flipping back up and leaning on his knees again, pretending to cough while grabbing his chest, Sarin tried to act the part of someone caught meditating instead of masturbating, but his cheeks were flushed and his breathing revealed exactly how close he was to finishing.

Standing close enough to notice, Joel stammered to find the right words to say without sounding like he wanted a turn. “Oh…uh, okay. Do you need another minute to finish or…?”

Glaring up at him through wet hair, Sarin went to spew his favorite profane words when Joel noticed the warmer water temperature.

“Why is it so warm over here? Did you already let go — wait, why are you glaring at me? Hey, I’ll give you more time if you need it, but don’t give me that look alright? I didn’t know.” Backpedaling with both arms in the air to imply he was safely retreating, Joel stopped and stared as the Pacific Ocean retreated like a blue blanket rolling off a cold body.

Still on his knees looking straight ahead, Sarin was awed by the power displayed in such a fluid medium. The surf around him was receding at a supernatural speed, tugging at him from underneath, hoping he would let go and willingly follow.

Feeling those invisible hands squeeze and caress him from below, the seduction was repeated with each countless gallon sweeping out to the horizon. The prolonged touching became even more intense as the last remaining water pulled away, leaving him breathless and finally submitting to the passionate stroking. Bracing himself and leaning forward, he climaxed harder than ever before.

To release into the mouth of the Pacific was such a hedonistic rush, Sarin fell blissfully backwards; no longer caring about his full disclosure. He pictured Dillon swallowing him in his mind, and the fantasy was enough to send him dangling over the edge into the darker recesses of his soul.

Sprawled on his back, with arms out and legs bent up at the knees, Sarin gave the ocean before him, the loveliest feature of his surrender imaginable.

***

Joel helped him up without a word spoken. It was an awkward silence. Worse than that, they were still alone, waiting for David to be released from Heavenly Jail.

Sitting side-by-side on the dry sand, they watched the birth of another dawn. Aqua blue outlined the horizon, dividing the darkness of the Pacific from the purple sky. Cushioned above the blue was a bright line of sunlight blocked from reaching the horizon by an invisible barrier. The end result was a colorful morning rainbow wrapping the Living World in a flag of comfort.

As the sun rose higher in the morning sky, Joel broke the barrier between them. “I don’t know what happened out there, but whatever it was, it’s fine. I won’t judge you. I would never think to do that because I’ve been there…many, many times.” He waited for a response while Sarin stirred in his seat. They were both sitting with forearms on pulled up knees, their shoulders almost touching.

“I told you I can’t be around him. I told you…” Sarin closed his eyes as the shame overwhelmed him. He had been seduced by someone he already loved. To add to his dilemma, Joel’s next question almost pushed him into the depths of despair.

“Let’s not even discuss the fact that he’s David’s younger brother—”

Please don’t describe him like that?” Sarin was nursing a terrible morning after hangover.

“Can I state the other major problem then?”

“Sure,” Sarin muttered as he rubbed his forehead with worry.

“What are you going to do if he comes for you? He hid in the water today, but I guarantee the next time, he’ll announce his arrival with a loud bang.”

“I don’t even want to think about that, but I already know I will have to face him someday.”

Another moment of silence enfolded them tightly around a central theme. Huddled together, each knew they both embraced the same demon.

“Why do you fear Dillon?”

Still embarrassed for the quick seduction earlier, Sarin was tongue-tied just thinking about him, so Joel continued speaking, and for once, Sarin didn’t complain. He simply listened, and as he conceded the stage, he couldn’t turn away. He stared at those broad shoulders and immediately wanted protection. Something about the way Joel spoke had his upper body loosening up, his forehead relaxing, and his hands lying perfectly still between the gap in his knees. As soon as he realized this, he reflexively ran them through his hair. It was beyond hope to try to improve his appearance though. Picking out a long piece of dark green seaweed, Sarin flung it away and gave up.

“Look, Sarin, I can freely admit what I fear, and it has everything to do with David Smith. Now I know that’s not shocking to confess, but this next statement might warrant a closer look into my body armor, because it has defined me across three worlds.” He waited for Sarin to say something — anything — but when the master elf slowly nodded his head to show he was listening, Joel was forced to continue. Oh, how he missed David’s spiteful tongue.

“I am here for David in every way imaginable.”

“I know, Joel. It’s obvious, but good all the same—”

“No, it’s not and that’s what I’m trying to say. It limits my vision, distorts my perception, and disables my ability to make the right decisions for anyone other than David. I am here for him, and yet, it’s not enough. It won’t ever be.” He laughed softly to the sand between his legs. With his head held below his shoulder line, he looked like he was giving up. The visual struck Sarin as more disturbing than his own earlier tryst in the ocean.

“So, you’re saying your love for David has blinded you to everything else?”

“No, try blinded me to the world — all three worlds.” Joel continued to slowly shake his head.

Sarin sat up straight, rested a hand on Joel’s shoulder, and leaned over. “I’m not so sure I believe that. I’ve seen you perform. Even when we were on the run in the Underworld, you were everyone’s hero — Leselle, David, Ulned,” pausing to hear a familiar chuckle with his next statement, Sarin smiled despite the groan in his own voice, “along with every other lost human in Second and Third.”

“Yeah, I was quite the human Pied Piper.” Not lifting his head, Joel continued to hang it low, but he at least wore a hint of a smile.

“You weren’t blind to all three worlds, Joel. You showed great resiliency in helping others to the detriment of all of us. That would make you the opposite of blind. I’d go so far as to say, you were and still are, quite the visionary.”

“Visionary? Thanks, but I disagree.”

“We’ll ask David when he returns.” Spoken like he was sure David would agree, Sarin finally stretched his legs out. He felt somewhat better after counseling Joel. It gave him purpose again.

“Where is he anyway? What’s taking so long?” Joel nervously checked the sky for bursts of light while Sarin watched him with mild curiosity.

“You’re asking the only person who hasn’t seen God?” He chuckled, stopping short when he heard Joel’s next comment.

“I didn’t hear you mention yourself when you listed all the Underworld residents I’ve assisted back in the day.” He was no longer laughing. In fact, Joel’s voice had become quiet and subdued for a change.

“No, I didn’t. You were everybody else’s hero but mine.” Sarin finished with a simple shrug of his shoulders; choosing not to look over because he could feel those eyes on him now.

“I wanted to be, and I would have been too, if only you had let me IN,” kicking out some sand as he lay completely back across the cool morning ground, he sounded hurt, but Sarin only saw an invitation, so he remained seated. When another awkward moment passed by without a word spoken, Joel sat back up and groaned loudly.

“Where is he?”

Sarin grumbled to the sky. “Just relax, Joel. You’re doing it again.”

“I know, I know, I’m anxiously waiting on him and in the process, doing absolutely nothing else with my time.” He then realized what he had said as soon as he saw Sarin look away. “It’s not that I’m doing nothing — that’s not what I meant.”

“It’s fine.” Resigned to be in the background, even when David wasn’t around, Sarin took a brief moment and stared longingly at the Pacific while Joel wrung his hands and darted his eyes upward. Right as he opened his mouth to complain again, David appeared before them. Both scrambled to their feet to see him.

“David—”

“Dave! You’ve got your wings back.” Joel noticed right away, but before he could complain about not having his, he shot forward several feet into David’s arms as a pair of winged creatures smacked onto his back harshly.

Face-to-face, there was an awkward moment of silence as David moved to one side to keep from being available for a kiss Joel was determined to steal. Repositioning him back with both arms extended, David sent a frustrated glance above his head to imply he wasn’t going to bite on the offer provided by God.

“Whoa, I can’t believe this.” Feeling behind him, Joel grinned. “What did you say to get us out of Heavenly Jail?” When David became distraught by the joke, he pushed for answers.

“Uh, nothing.”

“Wrong. Try again, Sweetheart—”

“I told you not to call me that.”

“Come on, Dave, what’s bothering you,” Joel pushed him playfully and David responded by swatting his arm away. He then turned his attention to Sarin, who had already withdrawn several feet to give them space. The master elf appeared uncomfortable to even be there. The image struck David hard in the chest and in an instant, he thought he knew why.

“Hey, Sarin, how are you doing?”

“I’m fine,” sending David a pensive smile, Sarin pivoted to leave them alone when he was immediately stopped by Michael. Having arrived before anyone could even notice, he was standing there in military formation with his chin up, chest out, and shoulders back.

“Hello, ladies.” The Arch Angel pointed above Sarin’s head to David first and then Joel while Sarin looked on. “You and you — return to your post and do-your-job. Sarin, you’re coming with me. Together, we will finish your training AND guard you from any more kiss stealing.” Snickering, he grabbed Sarin around his waist and pulled him effortlessly to his front like they had been lovers for years.

David and Joel darted eyes before focusing on Sarin. Concerned and visibly worried for each other’s safety, the trio of friends shared a brief silence before Sarin disappeared into the dawn sky.




Chapter 2

Absolution

He couldn’t grasp the idea of seeing Jessica’s upper body suspended by the limb of a tree. It was a brutal reminder of what he could do without even taking credit. In short, Dillon had become the very definition of dangerous.

Breezing through the Grand Hallway of Nine, he met Sandor at the entrance to the dining room.

“No.”

Dismissing the servant by waving his arm right as Sandor went to speak, Dillon disregarded the silver tray, wine bottle, and glass perched there for his refreshment.

Entering the dining room, only to turn around and leave Sandor backpedaling to get out of the way, he traveled swiftly down another hall to the witch’s study. There, he found Dis Patter sitting at one end of the ancient table with his bald, horned head between his tiny hands. Agadore stood at the middle of the work station with several books opened. Jars of different items of interest lay scattered around him.

The scene was chaotically messy. Slowing to a stop, Dillon stood at the opposite end of the table. With his hands perched on either side of the wooden edge, he leaned there like a dictator and cleared his throat. Agadore was already standing at attention, but Dis Patter hadn’t moved yet.

“What are you doing?” Dillon waited only a few seconds before continuing. “Quitting so soon? Shall I transplant you back to Seven with all the other ice sculptures?” Snickering, still on a monumental high from the sexual encounter with Sarin, he was stationed on a cloud hovering above Ninth Hell. Witnessing the climatic explosion knowing he was the reason why had him gripping the table’s edge with intense desire. Unfortunately, Dis Patter’s frustrations brought Dillon back to the here and boring now.

“I cannot work in this environment, my Lord. I require my own personal study. This place, those books, and that horrid collection of Esmeralda’s pets, have me wishing I could transplant all of Dis just so that I could eradicate the very hint of that nasty vampire witch and her impish replacement, Clara, from this very room.”

“Fine, tell me what you need and I’ll transport it here.” Dillon pushed off the table, ignoring the astounded look the Arch Devil was now giving him. Turning to Agadore, he spoke like he was discussing the contents of a shopping list. “Find out all that is needed from Seven and then report back to me.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

“I also want Sarin brought here. You will ascertain for me the easiest path to take in order to secure his arrival. Once that occurs, we can concentrate on my brother.”

“Uh, yes…my Lord.” Agadore bowed, but stayed hunched over when Dillon increased the level of difficulty with his next statement.

“They both must come willingly. I cannot force either one of them. I refuse to break the rules. I will not become what God expects of me. Is that clear?” He inspected the master witch’s baffled expression and resisted the urge to copy Dis Patter by smacking him. “What is it?” He tightened his lips into a thin line.

With his bulging round eye rapidly turning counterclockwise in circles while the other simply stared at the ground near Dillon’s boots, Agadore could clearly see the path before him, and it was not a straight one. Relieved to know that at least it was Dillon he was communicating with and not Nine, he took a deep breath to buy himself some time.

“Answer me, Agadore.”

“My Lord, I am searching, but I am afraid to say, I cannot see Sarin coming to you willingly.”

Dillon chuckled and the master witch flinched. “Oh, I think you might be wrong again, Agadore. If only you could have seen him kneeling to my skillful touch, you would change your clouded prospect of his future.” He stopped when he noticed that worried face not change demeanor.

What?” He took a step towards Agadore and the servant responded by dropping to his knees and cowering down; his arms draped over his head in a feeble attempt to brace himself for the final sendoff into oblivion.

“Tell us, Agadore.” Sitting up straight, Dis Patter was finally paying attention.

Eyeing the Arch Devil suspiciously, Dillon rolled his shoulders once before resuming his stance with his kneeling witch. He refused to draw forth the staff because he didn’t want Nine involved. Thinking about it now, he had yet to see the weapon upon stepping foot in this domain, but he knew it was here, hidden somewhere in the architecture. He was beginning to wonder if Nine had swallowed the ancient relic as an insurance policy. Wherever it was located, he could still reproduce the weapon at a moment’s notice and that, more than seeing it in a glass box, was fine by him.

“It is not the Living World that anchors him there, my Lord. Sarin will not leave Joel for you. I have foreseen it on this very day.” Still kneeling over, Agadore waited anxiously for Dillon’s rebuttal.

“Well…that presents quite the dilemma, doesn’t it?” He spoke with an air of nobility neither of his guests had heard before, and as they sent each other puzzled looks, they soon had their attentions directed back on Dillon right as he finished his statement. “Then I guess I have to pulverize Joel because I cannot see myself without my petit male darling under me.”

“My Lord?” Dis Patter couldn’t believe his ears. All along, he was expecting Dillon to stop at nothing to bring Jessica to Nine, but instead, Sarin had stolen the show. Agadore knew why though, and as he listened intently, his one eye still spinning, he could visualize his prophesy dancing around the room like a giggling court jester.

“I simply wish to own him. Sarin will serve me personally in my bedroom, and when I can rest assured his loyalty will not falter, at that point, I will release him to the worlds to do my bidding.”

Dis Patter was aghast just listening to the dreamy proposition. It was another Azmodeus moment of preposterous planning mixed with interwoven whimsical fantasy, and it nauseated him. “And Jessica? Will they both share your bed, taking turns serving you as they each compete for your hardened member, my Lord?” Leaning back in his chair, the little Arch Devil had a brief moment of brazen attitude Dillon found himself snickering to as he listened.

Grabbing the front of his pants with his right hand, he gestured his ability to spread his seed to many lucky recipients. “I have enough of an arsenal to please many. Better than that, I have all the time in the Underworld to fuck anyone to oblivion and back, including you, Dis.”

“I see.” Ignoring the playful nickname and masculine laughter that had both Agadore and Sandor swooning in the background, to Dis Patter, Dillon’s openly displayed sexuality was a far cry from Azmodeus’ discreet, yet refined sensuality. Drake came to mind and the image was an immediate turn off, so he stood up and paced the room, prepared to discuss their next move because he wanted Seven returned to its former glory.

“As much as I would never think to question your ability to fuck the world into oblivion, my Lord, I feel as though we still need to devise a plan.”

“Of course.” Sliding into the chair at the end of the witch’s table, Dillon kicked his black boots up and placed one over the other. Leaning back all the way, he gave everyone in the room a thrill by removing his cloak and revealing his toned upper torso. With his black shirt unbuttoned to showcase a well-developed chest, he was a siren for all to see. Playing with his long ponytail in one hand while drumming the armrest with the beautiful fingers of the other, he knew he looked smoldering to all present.

Choosing to ignore the image for fear he wouldn’t be able to think at all, Dis Patter kept pacing. Running his hand along each row of Esmeralda’s books, he tried as best he could to summarize her magic in his ancient fingertips.

He could feel his former idol the most as he performed this particular activity. It was like holding hands, he mused with a sigh. Slowing down to stand in the third of half a dozen aisles, Dis Patter had his hand on one book in particular. Azmodeus’ hands were imprinted strongly along the spine. Pulling it out, he gazed down at the title and then immediately replaced it.

“What book was that?” Dillon continued to play with his ponytail, amused by the Arch Devil’s worried expression.

“It was nothing, my Lord—”

“BOTH you and Agadore have little time to devise a plan of action. I want my wife and Sarin here — not in that order though.” He stressed the words and somewhere in the background, Sandor smiled in male victory.

“I’m not sure I’m following you, my Lord.” Dis Patter lamented as he leaned his forehead against the corner edge of the bookshelf; resigned to his newly appointed station as Dillon’s whoremonger.

“I need time to play with him before she shows — it’s only fair to Sarin that way.” He could feel his groin pulsate with the thought of mounting him. The potential act had him leaning his head on the back of the chair and discreetly gasping to the ceiling.

“So you want this elf thief as your…mistress then?” Dis Patter had a difficult time voicing Sarin’s name; he detested him that much.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Dillon chuckled incredulously to the ceiling. “I need time to fuck him repeatedly and at my leisure before I summon…her.” He coughed to keep from sounding too sentimental. Stiffened in his posture and uncomfortable in his seat, the hot sexual fantasy in his mind had now spun into chaotic turmoil.

“I’m assuming this Elvin mister-turned-mistress will not be offered to the Yew then? Who will you provide as replacement, my Lord?” Dis Patter still hadn’t looked over. He was too busy fighting the overpowering urge to smack his forehead repeatedly against the aged wood just to prove his point. This entire conversation represented pure lunacy at its heretical best.

“Not sure…” Dillon held a glazed over, blank stare. He then spoke his mind’s confession, for it did not involve his rapidly darkening heart. “She is safe there and frozen until further notice. I feel as though I can take my time in that regard, so it is not as pressing a matter as my acquisition of Sarin. I want him, and I’ll do whatever I can to claim him as my own.”

“Great.” Dis Patter thumped his forehead against the shelf and Sandor grinned in the shadows near the door. Agadore remained kneeling, but he slowly stood tall again, facing Dillon who had swung around to engage him once more.

“Tell me, Agadore, what lies in her future — my wife’s future, that is.” He winced at the notion he could no longer say her name aloud. His tongue would trip at the mere thought. It was a curse for his betrayal. He not only had her blood on his hands, but Sarin’s lovely scent as well.

Thinking back to his many adventures with Malachi, Dillon came close to diving in, but he resisted because she desperately wanted him. Gabriel was no different, only more alluring, but even then, he didn’t fuck her in the traditional sense. They mixed in their combined element, and it was certainly orgasmic, but that was every molecule of their bodies blending together, he rationalized with a warped sense of logic. It was okay to participate in that act because he wasn’t physically in his own body. He also didn’t feel guilty for any of it — not even the bedroom scene in Arcadia when he had his wood out and her legs spread open. He couldn’t do it though and afterward, when they had multiple opportunities to frolic in the surrounding forests of First Heaven, he chose to remain chaste for his wife, but that all changed when Sarin entered his mind’s bedroom.

Closing his eyes, he felt the impact of disbelief wash over him. Clenching his right hand into a fist while everyone else in the room tensed up, he just couldn’t get the master elf off his mind.

“My Lord, if I may?” Agadore eyed Dis Patter and the Arch Devil gesticulated for him to continue.

“Yes, go on with your answer, Agadore. I’m simply reliving a sin I should never have committed.” Feeling the need to repent, Dillon exhaled the icy mist from his mouth. It was a warning sign.

Agadore felt the immediate chill when those dark eyes directed their gaze at him. He could tell when the evil infiltrated through the angel’s skin. No matter where they were, the air would actually darken; time would oscillate for a millisecond — enough to allow his vision to blur before coming back into focus. And when that happened, Nine would wreck Agadore’s world by crippling him in fear.

“I (gulp) I was going to say…” Dropping to his knees again as soon as he heard Dillon’s boots hit the floor, the master witch was covering his head again.

“You were going to tell me about Jessica Parker’s future, and for your sake, you had better divulge details, witch.”

Catching a glimpse of Dis Patter lowering to one knee as well had Agadore refocusing on his divination. “I see her not recovering, my Lord. She-she will not survive the cold of Seven. The Yew will also not survive, and should that happen, the entire realm will die.” Gasping as the temperature dropped several more degrees, Agadore could see his breath like snow drifting down to land near his feet.

“I see.” Turning around so that his back was to them, he faced Sandor, who took another step back and into darker shadows. Taking a few seconds to ponder an acceptable next move, Dillon elongated the staff as he spoke. “How long do I have before their fates are sealed?”

Agadore pondered the question, searching his mind’s eye and fast forwarding through time. With no seasons in Seven visible except for winter, he was at a loss. He fumbled for an answer when he was cut off.

“Is it soon or do I have time? This is a simple question, master witch. Do not hasten your extinction by second-guessing your own predictions. That would be rather unfortunate for both of us.”

“A year above, my Lord — which does not give us much time,” Agadore whispered with haggard breath.

“I will have to act fast then, which will not serve my best interests.” He waited for anyone else to agree and he frowned when nothing else was mentioned. “Why do you suppose that is, Agadore?” He didn’t turn around. With his hands behind his back, holding the staff like a baseball bat, he nodded when the next words rang true, giving him just enough confidence in the talented witch’s wisdom.

“To act with haste yields unfavorable outcomes; the best plan is always executed using patience and good timing, my Lord.”

“And that is exactly what my adversaries above would want from me. Finally, you have my favor, Agadore.”

Spoken with that familiar ticking sound, the positive affirmation did nothing to ease his fear, but Agadore breathed out his relief with a faintly heard, “Thank you, my Lord.”

“I will visit each of the Council of Twelve with you present, Dis Patter. Once we have proclaimed my kingdom in its entirety, we will devise a plan to capture David Smith.”

“David, my Lord?” Dis Patter braved the question, although they were all thinking it.

Dillon chose not to look his way. Staring at Sandor’s silhouette, he signaled him over with a long finger. Reaching to take the full wineglass from shaking hands, he drank half the contents before answering, while swirling the remaining wine around the glass like a pro. “I want that one more than any other. His blood is my cure, remember? Or were you sleeping when I said I would bathe in it?”

Drinking the rest of the contents of the glass in the next round, he surprised Sandor by taking a bite from the rim. Chewing the glass in his mouth, he formed a salacious grin as his blood trailed down to drop from his chin to the bottom of the broken goblet.

As the servant gaped in horror, Dillon spit one of the smaller pieces still in his mouth onto the silver tray, and then drank the collected blood. It tasted better than the wine, and he relished the flavor of Divine Creation before placing the empty glass back on the tray.

Wiggling his glass-impaled tongue, he spoke with glee. “I might need a refill.” Winking, he left them all looking baffled and feeling, for the first time ever, a unified concern for Dillon’s welfare.

***

Sitting on the throne perched several dozen steps above the floor of the Grand Hallway, Dillon had not mentally returned since the disturbing scene in the witch study. Everyone knew it too, because whenever Nine would speak, the room occupied would dim, the air would stand still, and time wavered, losing increments of seconds; the blink of an eye would take a minute and the implication of wasted breathing created multiple moments of silent, strangled hysteria in every person near enough to witness the evolution of Nine’s wickedness.

“Stay and observe, Dis Patter.”

“Yes, my Lord.” Dis Patter had already mentally checked out. He felt a glimmer of hope with Dillon at the wheel, but now, after witnessing Nine whip every member of the Council into submission, only Belzebub remained, and even that last ship would most likely sink. He couldn’t believe it either.

“Belzebub.” Nine eagerly leaned forward in his seat as the fiery explosion summoned the Arch Devil of Eight straight from his throne in Firebane to Ninth Hell.

Standing there alone in the middle of the Grand Hallway, the red runner under his cloven hooves, Belzebub did not look overly surprised to be there. He had heard the news, so he was somewhat prepared, but even he knew it was useless to do more than be on guard. He, like his neighbors, had no idea what kind of evil had grown and slithered out from Hell’s coldest pit. Worse than that was the idea Nine’s caretaker was no longer at the gate, and he was partially to blame.

Belzebub was one of the influential players who had helped remove Azmodeus from the helm. He missed the former Ruler of the Underworld right then. David had defeated them all with his charming face. It was beautiful irony to know someone could infiltrate and singlehandedly dismantle an entire world’s infrastructure by infecting each and every important member. He was a fool for thinking he could remain above it all.

“Kneel, Belzebub, or meet my blue flame. I’m sure you’ll find it much more evolved than your orange fire.” That ticking snarl, the way each word hissed the wretched truth, had Belzebub holding his breath as he braved a glimpse.

Meeting eyes, time stopped for all there except the two of them. Surprised to see David’s brother in charge, Belzebub was immediately overcome by the beautiful irony of his ancient existence. He had traveled full circle, coming to the end with no other than a hybrid barely a few decades old greeting him.

Descending the marble steps, Nine held Monstrous’ bloody left hand in both of his like a toy. Tossing it up and then catching it again and again, he approached the Arch Devil with a smug, firmly set mouth. David’s brother held a close resemblance, and Belzebub was trapped and suspended in that soulful gaze. Unfortunately for him, he was still standing.

“I said kneel, or shall I take your right hand to create a pair?” A dozen feet away, Nine seemed rather small in Dillon’s body when compared to Belzebub’s giant size. It didn’t matter though, for as the fiery Arch Devil lowered himself to the floor, Nine could finally inspect the top of his massive bull horns crowning his mane of black hair.

“I had heard of Monstrous’ passing, as well as the prior resolution of the Council of Twelve, however with the image of David’s brother before me, I am at a loss as to your true identity—”

“I AM NINE. You are bowing to your supreme ruler, so remember that or else relinquish your ancient soul into the palm of my left hand. You served Azmodeus by allowing him limited authority over Eight, but that is not enough for my cold blood. No, you will grant me nothing short of EVERYTHING. I own you and Firebane. I will come and go as I see fit, and you will kneel to a much lower height whenever I grace your door. There will be no warnings and no second chances for I am the Underworld, which makes you a guest from this moment forward. Is that clear, Belzebub?”

Tossing Monstrous’ hand aside so that he could place the staff under that chiseled red chin, Nine lifted Belzebub’s face so that he could look him straight in the eye. Smirking as they widened, he snickered, and a glimpse of a black forked tongue slid along the edge of Dillon’s angelic mouth.

“Yes, my Lord.” Caught staring in awe, Belzebub studied those blue and black eyes with intrigue, but he rested on that familiar looking mouth and immediately ached for a delectable kiss.

“Ah, yes, I see what you desire. We both share a yearning for David Smith, Belzebub. Unfortunately for you, I will eat him first and then, if you’re resourceful and loyal, I may throw you my leftovers. As David’s brother, I am rather lovely to look at, wouldn’t you agree? Speak.”

“Yes, my Lord.” Observing Dis Patter and the other servants kneeling nearby, Belzebub was awestruck to see them remain frozen in time. It was a power he didn’t think possible.

“It is though. I can manipulate time to my advantage in this domain. It is with intense pleasure to inhale deeply and then hold my collective breath.” With his head tilted slightly to the side to gauge the impressed look Belzebub was giving him, he chuckled as the image registered the lust he coveted so well. It truly fueled his cold fire. “I see your desire for David strongly in your resolute gaze. You recognize the resemblance in me, which has you wanting to suck his soul through my luscious mouth. I think it’s safe to say, you will serve me well, given my sweet face.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

“Good — keep that wicked allegiance locked on target because we have much work to do. I want to drape the Living World in darkness, but unlike my predecessor, who was only out to conquer the love of just-one-soul, I want to fuck everyone.” Leaning forward so that their faces were close enough to kiss, Nine licked the tip of Belzebub’s nose with a flickered tongue as he professed Revelations word for word.

“I dream of retribution, chaos, pain and suffering — but foremost, I want to gorge on every living being because I am very, very hungry.”

***

He sent Belzebub away with a clear-cut plan: Bombard the Living World with a constant demonic wave. The surge of so many would overwhelm the skeleton crew of bounty hunters stationed there. By infiltrating the coasts from all angles, they would create enough chaos to have the angelic armies regrouping, on their heels, and completely distracted.

Next on the agenda was Madera. Nine needed to enlist the witches. All human connections would be called into play. Witches still alive would make portals across the Living World. The second wave of attacks would not come from the water, Nine decided with a wicked grin as Dillon paced before Madera’s coven; his similar beauty had them all charmed by his close association to their illustrious former leader.

Abruptly stopping in the middle of the raised stage overlooking several hundred witches, Nine held the staff extended and pointed to those wicked faces one at a time. Highlighting the followers, the selection was random, but the results were unanimously contagious in lighting the blue flame under Madera’s magical community.

“You will heavily recruit mortal witches. I want all of them placed in my palm.” Extending his left arm out, hand opened, a blue swirling ball of fire erupted. Spinning fast like a cannonball, he had all those eyes locked on target. Raising his arm to his eye level, he blew the fire across the top of Madera’s crowd, hitting every face. It was a collective baptism of Nine’s energy.

“Have your human counterparts open portals on every church door — only places of worship will do. I want to desecrate all religion therefore no institution will be spared. Mark them all in human blood to announce my arrival. Soon, I will roam among them. I will walk the Earth as the next Messiah. All mortal witches who dutifully serve will be granted entrance into my kingdom. Spread the word. You have one lunar cycle. We act NOW. I want a pagan holiday to mark my entrance.”

Turning to Dis Patter, who reluctantly stood nearby, Nine smirked when they met eyes. “Dis Patter, tell my witches what you told me in Seven that fateful day. I am granting you the prestigious honor of announcing my future homecoming to my utmost faithful.” Pointing to the quiet, hypnotized crowd, he signaled for Dis Patter to approach him on the stage.

“Yes, my Lord.” Dis Patter had to keep his simmering grievances at bay. He desperately wanted to state the obvious, but instead, he threw his snide comment to the witches in attendance. “I remember well, my Lord,” turning to the crowd now, feeding off the strong scent of reverence in the air below him, the most powerful sorcerer Madera had ever known spoke to a mesmerized audience of Dillon admirers. “The day I informed Dillon of All Hallows Eve—”

“Quit referring to me as if I am not here! That was ME you informed back in Seven — ME! I WAS THERE!” Storming back over to stand right next to him, Dillon’s taller size had the short Arch Devil looking like a child to the audience below.

Dis Patter kept his black eyes staring straight ahead as he spoke. “I said it was a ridiculous human tradition, so I am at a loss as to why you would want to enter the Living World on that particular night — October 31st, Halloween. It is a human child’s holiday, my Lord, filled with silly revelry and parties galore.”

“Exactly my point,” leaning forward to whisper in his ear, the sound of Dillon’s voice had the Arch Devil tensing up and unsure as to exactly who was speaking to him. “Kids in costume, eating candy, trick or treating, pumpkin carving — why, even Christians, like my pious parents, celebrated that pagan tradition. It is my least favorite holiday, which is exactly why I want to come back to the Living World on that night. I want to curse Halloween and all who participate, even the cute, vertically challenged children — why? I love practicing rudimentary magic.”

“Why not throw everyone off by arriving on All Saint’s Day, my Lord? You would surely make quite the understated arrival more ironic by presenting yourself on such a holy, celebratory day.”

“No.” His one word reply sharply incisive, Dillon was still reeling over the identity mishap earlier.

“Very well, my Lord,” answering quietly to the crowd of whispering onlookers, Dis Patter wisely sent who he considered to be Dillon, his eyes in brief acknowledgement.

“Do not make the mistake of misjudging my identity again. Know that I am ever present in this body. I am in charge. The next time you state my name as if I am not physically present, I will personally pound your tongue flat with my fist.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

Slowly turning to the crowd, cracking his neck to imply he was on the edge of a mental breakdown, Nine opened Dillon’s mouth and let him run with it for as long as he felt he needed to speak, knowing all along his words were never his to own.




Chapter 3

Training Day

Sarin sliced through the last demon while Michael dove into the deeper section of the Pacific to chase a few more. It was Friday night, July 4th, 2014, and the fireworks had already gone off, but Belmont Park was still in full swing. Packed with visitors and situated just feet away from the famous Mission Beach, the old amusement park was a favorite San Diego tourist attraction since it first opened in 1925.

Sarin caught up to a few more demon stragglers jumping over the three-foot cement wall separating the beach from the boardwalk. Running lightly on top of the deeper sand, he utilized his Elvin speed to bridge the distance. Chasing them through the amusement park, around buildings and shops, weaving in and out of the moving crowd, he followed them straight to the historic wooden rollercoaster ride.

The darkened, shifting shapes of the demons made tracking them difficult. Like Sarin, they could dart in and out of shadows, glide through narrow spaces, and on a ride like The Big Dipper, with its bright lights and branching metal framework, that meant even more places to hide.

The trio of demons separated at the entrance to the park ride as a means of forcing the master elf to choose. Pulling out his bow, he targeted the creature moving faster than the others by sending a well-placed arrow through the crowd, hitting the beast square in the back. Turning and following who he decided was the leader, Sarin pulled out his gold daggers for close combat.

Running along the ground perimeter of the rollercoaster, he jumped off a park bench and dove on top of the leader. Rolling across the cement ground, Sarin made the first cut, disabling the shadowy form. The subsequent bleeding acted like a reversing spell in the Living World, turning the demon shadow into a three dimensional form. Swiftly disabling it by slicing down both shoulders, Sarin finished it off with a well-placed fillet across the abdomen.

He hadn’t even stopped rolling yet before he was up and running again. Targeting the next demon with his keen peripheral vision, he jumped over the railing and scaled a smaller section of The Big Dipper while the demon ran along the ground under him. Swinging from the bars, catapulting himself up and over a sharp corner of the ride, he stepped on the front of a fully loaded passenger car before hopping from one section to the next until he was across the width of the ride.

Landing in a fast run, he tackled the demon before it could reach the carousel filled with younger children. Dodging a swing, Sarin sliced to draw first blood, and then punched the beast in the face, spinning it around and through an elderly woman strolling by. She dropped to her knees as the evil entity passed through her body. The fleeting demonic contact stopped her aged, diseased heart and sent her into immediate cardiac arrest. Not noticing the casualty, Sarin pursued the creature around the carousel ride, dodging the circus animal themed seats filled with laughing families.

Slithering around the children, the demon grinned as it grew from the intense energy of their brightly lit, innocent souls. Darting from a painted pony to a bright blue elephant, those long gray fingers caressed the trunk before reaching up to touch the little girl’s face. Before it could steal her aura, an arrow pierced through the hand, pinning the demon to the back of a wooden pink carriage filled with a mother and her two children.

Struggling there, the scaly, snakelike creature detached itself from the injured extremity like a lizard losing its tail. Getting away right as Sarin charged it, the demon was moving through the carousel again, this time, deliberately touching each child for much needed energy as it passed by.

The crying was loud and intense. Several dozen children wailing in fright had the conductor stopping the ride to investigate the collective disturbance. As parents came running over to the edge of the carousel, some of the children were already climbing down from their seats to make it off the ride, blocking the master elf and causing him to stutter step out of their way.

Catching a glimpse of the demon hovering close to a terrified boy, Sarin acted on impulse. Throwing one of his daggers like a bullet from a loaded gun, his Elvin accuracy helped him hit the target. Piercing the demon’s forehead, the dagger speared him to the pole above the child’s head.


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