Risen (Haunted Series Book 22)

an island you say?” an authoritative voice bellowed.  “Which island?” The sailors parted as Henry Waite, the quartermaster, strode over.  He was wearing a tattered uniform, opened at the neck.  His long black hair was slick with grease and tied back.  His boots bespoke of someone who liked the finer things in life.  Even in death, they had a shine to them.
Murphy ran through the names he had overheard and chose the oldest one, “Lucifer’s Lip.”
“There be a beast on that isle,” the quartermaster claimed.
“Not anymore,” Murphy said.  “The explosion blew me away.  I need to get back to my boat.”
“You’re telling me that you killed the beast of Lucifer’s Lip?” Waite questioned.
“The physical body of the beast.  I’m not sure what happened to the soul.”
“Beasts don’t have souls,” Waite insisted.
“Then ’ow would you be explaining the cook?” the boatswain joked.
The quartermaster lifted an eyebrow.  He closed one of his black eyes and shook his head.  “We’re stuck with him for an eternity.  You best be getting used to his slop.”
Murphy was stunned.  “You guys can eat?”
All heads turned his way.
“Am I in Hell?” he asked and explained, “I could eat when I was in Hell.”
“Now ’e’s telling us ’e’s been to ’ell,” the boatswain complained.  “I think ’e’s lying.”
“Toss him in the brig until the Captain is ready to speak to him,” the quartermaster said.
“Please, can you tell me where I am?” Murphy pleaded.
“Farmer, if you’re telling us the truth, you’ve exploded yourself through the six veils and ended up in the realm of the ghost ships.  Here, death comes only to those who don’t tow the line,” the quartermaster said and pushed through the throng of sailors, leaving Murphy at the mercy of the boatswain.
~
Mia pushed at the door again.  She was in a room so small that she couldn’t open her wings.  The tiny square window was barred.  The view outside was obstructed by a stone tower.  The only furniture was a chair she suspected was taken from a cold-war-era, Soviet office building.  It was hard plastic and too high off the ground for Mia’s short legs.  She sat there swinging her bare feet back and forth.
Abigor had taken her boots. She had pulled a knife out of one of them after he tossed her on the stone floor of the building they had entered.  Mia had rolled to her feet, spreading her wings, and stood in a defensive position.  The ceiling was high, but still, Mia knew there was no place she could escape.
He laughed, until she lowered her armor.
“Mia, I’m not your enemy.  Are you mine?” he asked softly, holding out his hand.
Mia surrendered her knife.
He tossed it aside.  “Contain your wings.” He pointed to her boots.  “Angel armor.  Please remove them or I will.”
Mia took off her boots.  “I want them back.”
Abigor pushed her up against the wall and took his time frisking her.
“Don’t you have people for this?” she said through her teeth.
“Why should I give them the pleasure?” he said, moving his hands over her lightly.  “Mia, be nice to me.  Have you forgotten where you are?  Or who you brought with you?”
“I had no other choice,” she argued.  “Is he dangerous to you?”
“You’re trying to distract me,” Abigor said, turning her around.  “Shut up.”
He ran his hand over her back, stopping at the strange metal oval.  “What’s this?”
“It was a locket that I absorbed.  I’m hoping it will fall out eventually.”
“Gargoyle,” he said.  “I heard about how you let that lice-ridden bird give you wings, but I never imagined you aligning yourself with a gargoyle.”
“I didn’t.  It was a gift from my husband.”
“Husband,” he said slowly.  It seemed to waken him from his ire.  “Assassin with a husband.”
“Three children,” Mia added, turning around.
“You’re worried about being alone with me, aren’t you?  This is why you voiced husband and children.  It’s more for you than for me.  What do I care?”
“You don’t want to defile yourself with a lice-ridden married woman with children,” Mia said, pushing thoughts of submission into his head.
His eyes flashed in realization that she had entered his mind.  He backhanded her.
Mia staggered backwards, but she didn’t fall.  She raised her chin and prepared for another slap that didn’t happen.
“Forgive me,” he said.
Silently, he walked her up stone steps and shoved her into an open door and closed it, taking the key with him.
“Geeze, Cooper, what have you gone and done now?” she asked herself.  “Would it be so bad to be kind to him?  Not everyone wants your body,” she reasoned.  “He wasn’t going to rape you.  He’s noble.  He’s just trying to sort all of this mess out when the simplest solution would be you at the end of a blade.”  Mia closed her eyes, drew her feet up, curled up into the chair, dropping her head down and covering it with her arms.
The door opened.
“That hardly looks comfortable,” Altair said.
“How is it you’re here?” Mia asked in amazement.  Tears of relief and joy fell down her face.
“You’ve really mucked things up,” he said.  “You’ve brought back someone that everyone wanted to forget.”
“Ruax?  It was the headache.  He’s the demon that gives humans migraines, headaches, tumors…”
“Aby thought you’d worked it out.  The important thing is that you didn’t tell Ruax.  To know his name would bring back all his demonic power.”
“You mean there’s more?” Mia asked, stunned.
“Mia, you know how the angels are frightened of Victor?”
“Yes.”
“Ruax is Hell’s equivalent.  What happened to your face?” he asked, placing his cool hand on her bruised cheek.
“Not half what I deserved, I assure you,” she dismissed.  “I’d like to tell you everything and get your counsel.”
“Give me your memories,” he said, placing his forehead on hers.