Chapter 28
Serra
We landed hard in the dirt of a long hall, lit only by torches. There was no one around, and quickly, I got to my feet, dragging Delilah by her hair to a standing position. "Welcome home," I grunted, leading her down the hall. "Let's find you a room so you can get comfortable."
"You really think you have me beaten?" Delilah laughed, rolling her eyes as she tried to dust herself off. "We're in foreign territory, sweetheart," she smiled. "You have no idea what to do or where to go down here."
"It's a good thing I do," Crowley's voice echoed through the darkness.
Delilah whipped around, ripping out plenty of red hair as she fought against the hold I had on her scalp. "You," she snarled. "Traitor."
"This is your own fault," Crowley continued, "I told you not to trust anyone. That included me."
Wide eyed terror began to trickle through Delilah's face, realizing that I was in control even though we were walking through the halls of Hell. "Take a good look," I began, gesturing to the room we entered, "because this is where you'll be taking your final breaths." I turned to smile at Delilah, a calm surrounding me that settled right into my gut. I was finally getting my way. "You end here."
"You're not going to torture me," Delilah rolled her eyes as I pulled her into a sitting position onto the chair in the middle of the room.
Still smiling, I tilted my head. "I guess that goes to show how little you know about me."
…
Grace
"And what to do with you," I muttered, approaching the group of women in the sigil, cowering as I grew closer. I stared at Sabina, searching her thoughts as they ran wildly through her head. She seemed almost confused, like she had been acting on someone else's orders and wasn't entirely sure how she got here.
Delilah's reach and spell work had been powerful, and though I still didn't forgive Sabina for putting us through the mess that she helped create, I didn't have the need to kill her. Serra might feel differently, but she wasn't here. Taking a deep breath, I put my hands on my hips and tried to decide what to do with the witches that had helped almost destroy my family.
"Erase their memories and let them go," Chuck murmured as he approached my side. "Essentially, they're innocent in all of this; just pawns in Delilah's plan to take over the universe."
I turned to stare at him and took a deep breath, realizing that I was face to face with the Creator himself. "Is this why you let me live?" I asked softly, turning to face him. "After Dean and I got married. Is this endgame the reason you called off the angels?"
Chuck continued to inspect the witches in the twine trap and acted as if he hadn't heard me, though I knew different. I didn't repeat myself, but instead, took a slow breath through my nose and waited.
"No," he finally answered, turning to make an apologetic expression. "Your children are most of the reason," he explained, "but I'm sure you'll come in handy a few more times now that you've hit your stride." He pulled a bag of peanuts out of his pockets and opened them, digging to find a couple and toss them into his mouth. As he crunched, Chuck raised his eyebrows excitedly and added, "And your sister! She's a real treat."
"And you're okay with her killing Delilah," I added. "Because it's probably happening right now."
Chuck shrugged, tossing another handful of peanuts into his mouth. "She's got some torture up her sleeves, but it's nothing close to what Delilah actually deserves. I'll let Serra have her fun, but then, Delilah's going to have to answer to me either on this plane or the next."
"Where does an angel go when its been killed?" I asked, hesitant to know the answer.
"Wherever it needs to go," Chuck answered, turning towards me and grinning as he chewed another handful of peanuts. "In this case, Delilah will be locked in Purgatory until I decide to let her out and have a chat. After that, we'll figure out what her eternity of punishment will be."
I could sense Dean approach from behind me and as I stared at Chuck with my mouth hanging open, Dean rested his hand on my hip. I could feel my anxiety soften as I closed my eyes, turning towards my husband and wrapping my arms around his shoulders into a hug.
Chuck closed his bag of peanuts and stuffed them back into his pocket and clapped once. "See? That's romance. I do love a good love story." He scrunched up his nose and shook his head. "That was always the hardest part of writing our story! How much romance do I actually include? Do I need to be descriptive?"
Dean chuckled and shook his head. "Please don't," he muttered, turning to shake Tulley's hand. "How you doin'? You okay, man?"
Tulley shook his head in disbelief. "I would like to be going home to my wolves, now," he commented, running his hands over his neck and taking slow breaths, as if testing to make sure he was actually alive. "They do not give me nearly so much of the troubles."
Dean slowly released the lungful of air he held and rubbed the bruises that were blossoming over his wrists. Looking down at me, he licked his lips and searched for the apology that welled in his chest. "Gracie," he started, still shaking his head.
"I know," I offered, closing my eyes. "It wasn't your fault. It was the Mark," I took his face in both of my hands, searching his eyes. "You would never knowingly put any of us in danger. Delilah decided to take it to the next level."
From behind me, Santiago stood quietly, staring at his hands and looking around in amazement. "All of this," he began, "this is all so incredible. I can hardly believe the things that I am seeing, even though I witness them with my own eyes."
"I know," I replied, reaching out to take his hand, while still holding Dean. "I'm hoping that this is as crazy as it ever gets."
…
Serra
Crowley had promised me as much time as I wanted, free from interruption and attack during my time in Hell. This time, though, I doubt anyone or anything would have been able to stop me from what I was about to do.
Unloading the weapons from my clothes and holsters, I laid out four different sized blades, all made from the Weapons' Stone metal, the Weapons' Stone knuckles (one of my personal favorites), my twin black-on-silver Colt forty-fives, a dainty nine-millimeter Beretta, and the bullets I had left over from our fight across Minnesota's coastline while being chased by Hellhounds and Shadow Demons while trying to keep my family alive.
I locked my teeth together and took a deep breath through my nose, steadying the rage that boiled inside my chest; sour and hot. "I'm gonna be honest with you, Delilah," I began, not yet facing her. "This is gonna hurt a little."
Clicking her tongue in annoyance, Delilah rolled her eyes. "Yes, yes," she mocked from her place in the dungeon chair, chained in place in the middle of an angel trap, surrounded by holy fire. "Let's get it on so I can get back to work."
"There's no work after this," I answered, taking two of the blades in my hands, weighing them comparatively and deciding on the smaller of the two. "There's nothing after this. Chuck has given me his blessing."
"Chuck?" Delilah repeated, sounding worried for the first time. "Who's Chuck?" She hesitated for a moment as I turned to face her, considering where to start. Delilah's face smoothed as she realized who I was talking about, "Wait, Father? Are you talking about Father?"
I simply stared at her, blinking slowly as she processed what was about to happen.
For the first time, Delilah looked wounded, as if I had slapped her across the face. "He spoke to you?" she asked. "He actually said something to you?"
"He has in the past," I replied, approaching her. "Right now, he's having a whole conversation with my sister, husband, and brother-in-law. You're up shit creek." I leaned closer to her, leaning on the armrests of the chair Delilah was bound to. "By the time I'm done, you'll be begging to die."
Delilah steeled herself, her resolve found. "I don't beg for anything," she whispered.
"We'll see."
