Wrath of the Fallen by Eve Archer
Chapter Eight
Dominick
“You are not the reason we fell,” Rami said, his words harder than usual. “And we are not damned.”
I glanced at the door leading into our room and turned away. I should probably get some sleep, but for now, I needed to move. “You’ve never lied to me before, brother.”
Rami walked beside me as I strode down the hallway. “You keep forgetting free will. Nothing was forced on me or any of the Fallen. We chose to defy the holy rules, and we have all accepted the consequences.”
I gave him a sideways glance as I led us briskly through the building and down to the basilica entrance within the convent. Even though I’d taken Ella to a cathedral in Venice, I rarely frequented churches. For some reason, though, I was being pulled to the ancient site.
Rami hesitated on the threshold of the basilica, but I didn’t, striding in and standing squarely in the middle of the center aisle. Wooden chairs were arranged into rows facing the front, marble sculptures adorning the interior. I tipped my head back so I could take in the high ceiling, complete with a domed skylight. Warm beams of light suffused the altar, a bright mosaic of a green cross beneath the dome appearing to glow on a background of pale yellow.
The altar itself consisted of a roughhewn, stone table draped with white linen, a chunky candle on each end. Like the rest of the building, the holy site was fashioned from uneven stones that jutted from the walls and appeared to almost tumble into each other.
The sanctuary was empty of visitors, and the thick stone blocked out sounds from the city, even though I knew it was hot and bustling just outside the walls. The silence inside hung over me like shroud, and even my breathing sounded muffled beneath its heaviness. Stepping closer to the altar, I inhaled the musty smell of thousands of years.
“Roman,” Rami said in a hushed voice, as he spotted the ancient arch behind the altar.
I nodded, memories of the Romans rushing back to me—their armor, their legions, their violence. “Hadrian.”
The Roman emperor had been famous for building, and fragments of his walls remained as far away as Britain. I walked to the arch and rubbed my hands across the jagged stone, allowing the centuries to pulse through me. Although I preferred my homes to be historical, it had been a long time since I’d been somewhere that held evidence of such ancient times. Even our island fortress only dated from medieval times, a full thousand years after these stones had been placed by the Roman emperor who occupied the city of Jerusalem.
Closing my eyes, I drifted back to the time when the stones were freshly quarried, and the city was filled with their dust. Soldiers marched through the streets, sandals slapping on handpicked earth and then on freshly laid stone. I opened my eyes and let out a weary breath. Two thousand years, and soldiers still pounded the streets, blood still spilling from holy wars.
“So much changes, and so much stays the same,” I whispered, as if sharing a secret with the stone.
I didn’t linger long in the sacred space, instead, continuing to the wooden stairs that led down to the Lithostratos. Rami followed silently, our footsteps echoing in the quiet as we descended below the convent and basilica to the remnants of the ancient Roman stones that had once paved the city’s streets.
Breathing in deeply, I could almost smell the old city itself—a cacophony of sweat, livestock, and savory meat being burned as offerings. My nose twitched as my feet touched the worn, stone floor, the memories visceral.
We walked through low-ceilinged corridors dimly lit by glowing lights fixed to the stone walls. Arch after arch led us further into the past.
“I didn’t think I would see this again,” Rami whispered, when we paused to study a game board etched into one of the broad paving stones.
“I never thought I’d want to.”
Rami pointed to the B carved into the stone. “Basilios.”
I nodded, remembering the game that the Roman soldiers loved the play, their dice hitting the stone as they tried to advance into the center of the game board. “King.”
After a moment, Rami cleared his throat. “Why are we here, Dom?”
I straightened and clasped my hands behind my back, peering up at the ceiling. “I wanted to remember.”
“This?” He glanced back at the game board.
“Not the game, but the early days. The darker days.”
He let out a low rumble, the sound reverberating back to us. “The first few thousands of years after we fell?”
“It’s good to remember that we weren’t always powerful or so comfortable with our existence.”
Rami sighed. “I sometimes forget the shock of being banished and the torture of realizing we were doomed to dwell with humans forever with no hope of redemption.”
“The humans have not been so bad,” I said, giving him a wicked grin.
“Once we accepted our fate and embraced our fallen status, the humans became an enjoyable diversion. Earth became more of a playground than a torture chamber.”
I laughed low, but it was not a mirthful laugh. “A fact I’m sure the archangels would not be pleased to discover.”
“No. They would not.” Rami twisted to fully face me. “Is this about them?”
I gritted my teeth, thoughts of the arrogant Gabriel twisting my heart into stone. “As much as I would like to blame all my troubles on them, it isn’t the celestials who concern me.”
Rami waited silently, the only noise that of tourists descending the wooden steps into the subterranean Lithostratos.
“Is she weakening me?” I asked, pivoting on one heel to face my friend.
“Ella?”
I gave a single, brusque nod, despising myself for even voicing my fears. Hating myself for having fears. “It has been so long since I felt anything for a human, but Gabriel is right about one thing. She is mortal, and she will perish like all humans. I don’t know if I can bear the pain of watching her wither in front of my eyes, while I remain immortal and untouched by time.”
“You’re feeling the curse of our immortality anew.”
I jerked my head back to the paving stones with faint grooves etched in them, evidence that centuries had marched on. “When we surround ourselves with our Fallen brethren and only use humans for passing entertainment, it doesn’t feel like the torment that it is, but if we get attached…”
“It’s why we never do,” he reminded me, his voice gentle.
I balled one hand into a fist and struck it against the wooden railing in front of the ancient stones. “I was so distracted by her angelic trace and what it might mean that I didn’t even notice I was falling for her until it was too late.”
“And is it,” Ram asked, “too late?”
“I can’t unravel my feelings for her now. It’s done.” I gave him a sad smile. “I love her.”
Rami pressed his lips together, pity clear in his eyes. “Love doesn’t make you weak, Dom.”
“It does when you’re the leader of the Fallen. I’ve already put us at risk by claiming her and bringing her to our fortress. Our fellow Fallen have already battled swarms of demons because of my insistence on keeping her.”
“What is the alternative? Do you wish to release her?”
The thought sent hot tendrils of regret shooting through me. “I don’t want to, but perhaps it would be best for everyone. What life can she have with me? I’m used to going from club to club and from party to party. I run the largest underworld empire on the planet. She might find that amusing now, but what about in ten years or in twenty?”
“You could let her go,” Rami asked, disbelief thick in his voice, “after everything?”
“If it meant I didn’t have to endure the heartbreak of losing her slowly over the blink of a human’s lifespan, maybe.”
“But this has always been the reality. Why does it trouble you now?”
The footsteps approaching us grew louder, but the visitors had not yet reached us. Still, I lowered my voice.
“Because now I know she has the possibility to avoid that mortal pain. Can I really stand in the way of her chance at a celestial life?’
There was a thud in the corridors behind us—a tourist dropping something—then retreating footsteps.
“Allow Gabriel to take her?” Rami shook his head. “You can’t mean that, Dom.”
I hesitated and then blew out a breath. “No. I don’t trust Gabriel. I still think he wants to eliminate the evidence of his own fall, not save her.”
“Then what’s the answer?”
As a small cluster of chattering middle-aged women entered the cavern, I scraped a hand roughly through my hair and remained silent, wishing that millennia of experience had given me more insight into love. And more answers.
