Son of the Devil - Book I of The Higher Order

Chapter Thirteen: A Lonely Heart

I woke to the call of Azazel like I did every day. I didn't want to wake up, I felt this burning sensation in my chest and behind my eyes. If I continued to sleep maybe it would go away, but Azazel wasn't a compassionate demon and continued pestering me from the door. I honestly couldn't care less right now. This incessant pain in my chest wouldn't allow me to move. The second heartbeat that had always been there unnoticed beneath my chest was gone and I didn't know why.

Thinking about the disappearance of my second heartbeat hurt like a knife to the chest. I didn't want to think about it and yet it was the only thing on my mind. I hoped to father that this pain—and Chironia—would just go the hell away.

I tried summoning my power to shut her up, throw her out, something to make her leave me alone, but it remained dormant inside me. I closed my eyes tighter and delved into the deepest recesses of my life force to figure out what was wrong. I had to fight hard with nearly every ounce of my energy to reach it without my power's help. I grew extremely tired when I finally reached it and just about slipped unconscious again, which would've knocked me back to square one. Taking a breath, I looked up. I saw the pulsing red force that supplied me with its strength, power, and my life force. Without this red force, I wouldn't be considered a supernatural, I'd be considered little more than a human with a . . . unique lineage.

The pulsing cloud was dormant, barely moving at all. I put a hand against the red wispy mist. It flashed angrily and threw me backward with a crack like thunder. "I know! Alright!? I know!" It pulsed slowly, red lightning crackling in its depths. Mist swirled about my feet and I felt an impression of hypnotizing blue eyes and perfect wind-blown golden hair. "Who is she?" I asked, confused. It rumbled harder at me, flashing angrily. "Does this have something to do with the pain?" I gestured to my chest.

The red power rumbled slightly, turning to mist before returning to its condensed fog-like state. "I'm sorry, I'm really trying to understand, I really am. But what's going on?" I felt the sting of tears in my eyes, I had no idea what was happening, or why. I just wanted to understand.

The red fog drifted closer and settled around me. I was having trouble staying with it, energy dwindling. "I don't have much time, I need to know." I pleaded, hands up in a shrug.

"Lifema—" it rumbled with the voice of thunder but I didn't have enough strength or energy left to stay that deep into my consciousness. I was wrenched painfully away from the fog and back into my psyche where I could barely feel let alone speak with my power.

It had cost me a lot of energy to get there, more to stay there as long as I had, and even more to get myself out before I exhausted the last of my energy reserves. For some reason, I still haven't been able to move which was probably for the best seeing as whatever miniscule energy I had left was being stored and replenished at the moment.

Doing anything that required energy could just end up killing me, so I did the one thing I could. I shut down my unnecessary bodily functions and let myself fall unconscious. I knew I was slipping in and out of sleep and during that time period I heard snippets of conversations.

Azazel whispered in a hushed voice, "I thought you said he'd only be unconscious for twenty-four hours?"

"That's right." Cain—that good for nothing evil brother of mine—whispered back, "Unless Raziel lied to us, he should've woken hours ago." Then their conversation faded as I slipped under again.

Darthaor, not bothering to whisper, growled, "his pulse is slowing, breathing's unstable, bodily functions not operating, he's dying and there's nothing anyone can do about it except maybe his lifemate," then he added under his breath, "if he even has one, prick." I knew the insult was directed my way, but I didn't care, I couldn't care. Not for anything except what I had lost, whatever that was. Over the hours, I had come to the conclusion that someone had used powerful psychological magic on me and erased the memories I had of what I had lost.

No one gets away with using magic on me, no one. I'd find whoever it was, make them restore my memory, and get rid of them. Permanently. Despite shutting down my body in order to replenish my energy, I could feel myself becoming weaker and weaker. My thoughts turned to mush and I could barely hear my own breathing or feel the pulsing of my heart. I knew I was dying, falling apart at the seams and it was all because someone had taken something more precious than life from me.

The only thing that I felt relief about was that whoever had stolen the object I had no memory of had also taken the damned crown, I couldn't feel its presence anywhere in Hell and thank all the divine for that. That crown had offended me more times with its presence than I cared to count. But, unfortunately without it I couldn't get a power boost that might have increased my chances of survival. I couldn't feel that second heartbeat beating beneath my chest, in its place was a gaping void that could never be filled.

There was something amiss, I could feel it. I concentrated and examined that feeling. I pictured my heart, beating slower every minute. That hole filled up half the space, I could tell that no one had taken it, it was just . . . gone. Then, as I looked closer, I saw a sliver near the edge was missing. Someone had stolen part of my soul!

Who would dare to steal from me? Let alone steal part of me? Whoever did this has some serious balls on them, because when I find them . . . I'm going to kick my foot so far up their ass I'll knock out their teeth and use my shoe laces to brush their tongue.

I used my power signature to find the missing piece that had been stolen from me and looked through it to find its location. I was honestly astonished by what I saw. A place my physical eyes would never be allowed to see . . . a realm that would never allow entrance to a demon such as myself.

The Silver City. Heaven.

What in the Goddess's name was part of my soul doing in Heaven?

The little fucker that stole my soul must be in the Silver City somewhere. Great! Now, I'm never going to get it back and take my revenge. I suppose I would have to focus on surviving this event first.