Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 98961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
“Lucas!” I call, more than aware I’m screaming into the dark, announcing my presence for anything and everything in this place. But I don’t care. “Lucas!” I whirl around, looking down a dark hall, illuminated only with flickering the flames from the torches on the wall. I tip my head up, looking above me. The ceiling is endless, or maybe not there at all. Yet no stars dot the sky and suddenly the darkness feels too close, like it’s falling down on me.
I’m in some sort of hall, maybe? The air is cool and has a faint smell of dirt, yet I can’t tell if I’m inside or outside and it’s messing with my head, making me dizzy. I’m astral projecting—I think—or maybe I’m communicating all in my head, sort of like the way I was able to talk to Lucifer in my dreams. Whatever I’m doing, I’m here, and I’m not leaving until I find Lucas.
And I’m taking him with me.
Going over to one of the torches, I carefully pull it out of the holder and run my hand over the wall, feeling the smooth stones. I think I’m in some sort of pyramid. It’s endless, like Hell. Holding the torch out in front of me, I let my eyes fall shut and try to feel a pull on my heart, telling me which direction to go.
I start going straight forward, walking as fast as I can down the wide, dark hall. Everything is quiet except for the soft sound of wind blowing through the hall, yet I feel no breeze on my skin. Maybe because I’m only here in astral form? It would be easy to feel unnerved by this place, yet it has the same familiar energy as Hell.
It feels like I’ve been walking forever by the time I finally come to a crossroads of sorts. Stopping in the middle, I slowly turn around, looking down each dark hall. To my right, there’s a faint blue glow and I recognize it right away.
Hellfire.
“Lucas!” I call again and rush toward the glow of the fire. Sand crunches under my feet and the hall starts to narrow. Pushing into a run, I hold the torch to my side and come to a stop at a large door. Two torches are on either side of it, but unlike the one in my hand, they’re lit with hellfire.
“Lucas?” I ask and reach for the door. Something powerful vibrates with energy behind it. I square my shoulders and extend my free hand, telekinetically opening the heavy, stone door.
It slowly slides open, and I see a glimpse of a throne room, with tall pillars painted in vibrant colors. The room is several stories tall and beautiful, filled with intricate paintings and a pool of water on either side of what has to be the throne. Hellfire burns on the surface of the water, and I’m overcome with the desire to walk down the painted stone and sit my ass on that throne. “Lucas,” I call again, voice hardly louder than a whisper.
“He can’t hear you.”
I whirl around and my breath hitches in my chest. Standing just feet from me is Osiris.
Chapter
Twenty-Three
“Forgive me,” Osiris says and steps back, giving me a slight bow. “For we have not been properly introduced. I am—”
“I know who you are,” I interrupt. The large stone door behind me starts to slowly close, creaking loudly against the silence of the rest of this place. “Where is Lucas?” My eyes close in a long blink as I remember the last time I saw him and want nothing more than to go back in time and keep him from swinging himself up on that damn horse. “The…the Horsemen.”
“You’re here for the vampire.” Osiris curiously looks me over. “We’ve been expecting you.”
“We? You mean Lucas? Where is he? Is he okay?” I can’t help the tears that fill my eyes. “Please, he’s my husband and I love him. Just let me know if he’s okay.”
“He’s a Horseman.”
“What does that mean?” I shoot back, lowering the torch just a bit. Osiris looks just as he did when he appeared in a whirlwind of sand only days ago, though now he’s not wearing anything on his head and his thick, wavy hair hangs only an inch or two from his shoulders. He has deep brown eyes and full lips and appears to be only a bit older than me. I know the lore is that his own brother hacked him to pieces. I can see mummy wrappings on his arms and legs, as if they’re covering the marks of being stitched back together. I bring my eyes back to his. “Is he okay or not?”
Osiris takes a step closer, and the aura around him is both oppressive and welcoming at the same time. It gives off the same odd familiar feeling I get when I’m around other angels, and Julian’s words echo through my head. Divinity seeks divinity. But Osiris isn’t an angel…right?