The Darkest Joy Read online

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  Amira Press

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  NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

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  CONTENTS

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  About the Author

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  The Darkest Joy

  Copyright © October 2008, Dahlia Rose

  Cover art by Anastasia Rabiyah © October 2008

  Amira Press

  Baltimore, MD 21216

  www.amirapress.com

  ISBN: 978-1-935348-00-9

  No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical means, including but not limited to printing, file sharing, and e-mail, without prior written permission from Amira Press.

  Chapter One

  So beautiful. He watched her smile while she strapped a piece of rubber around a patient's bicep. The smile was brilliant, kindly, and full of encouragement as she slipped a hollow needle into the vein. She murmured reassuring words to ease her patient's fears, and the lifeblood of the man began to fill the tube. Even from far away, he could hear her every word. She talked about the weather and asked about children, a conversation to take a person's mind from what was happening into a happy place. Finally, she was done, and then she flashed that glorious smile once more. Perfection.

  No one could see him as he walked down the corridor behind her. He had done for weeks now. He watched her work, and at night, he sat outside her window and watched her sleep. Her beauty took his immortal breath away. The normality of her life gave him hope for himself. After thousands of years, one mistake had made him who he was now. Only redemption could free him from him immortal torment, his dungeon, his curse. Invisible, he sat next to her while she wrote up charts at her small desk in her space, her sanctuary, where she worked.

  He inhaled the scent of her hair like it was a fine wine. The dark tresses smelled of honeysuckle and vanilla spice. He wanted to run his finger down the creamy chocolate shoulder that was exposed when she took off her lab coat. When she turned, her nose was just a breath away from his, yet she did not know it. Her breath caressed his lips. It had the scent of the strawberry soft chews that she liked to snack on at her desk. He stared into eyes that were like liquid chocolate. Her lips were full, and she wore gloss that had a slight color of gold. Pictures of family and friends were all around her, trinkets of her human life that she treasured. One picture she favored the most, and she looked at it every day. She caressed the silver frame that said grandmother in raised letters. He heard her speak of the woman frequently, even saw them go out to lunch, and saw how she hugged her with affection and love. He longed for that emotional connection, that bond with another person that could not be broken. He craved....

  The call jarred him from his place next to her. It was like a sledgehammer to his head. He hated when this time came around. He hated being away from her. But if he did not go to his duties, the repercussion would be great, and by the time his punishment was over, a hundred years would have passed and she would be long gone. A frown darkened his face as he moved away from her, and he promised to return to no one but himself. The next time, he would reveal himself to her slowly and let her know the man before she knew the secret. Next time.

  Her name was Bliss. Bliss ... Bliss ... Bliss. He repeated the name over and over in his head. She would be his bliss and his salvation. He felt it in the fiber of his being. He closed his eyes and phased out of this world owned by humanity and into a world no one wanted to see. The walls of rock were dark with soot, and the ground scorched the soles of shoes. As he walked, the heat caused the rubber to hiss like water dropped into a hot frying pan. He hardened his heart to the screams of torment around him, the pleas for mercy, or even a drink of water to quench eternal thirst. Had he shown any compassion, the consequences would be dire for him and for the person whose plea he answered. No, it was better to pretend he did not see the bodies chained to the rock walls or hear the lashes from Qemuel's whip against the flesh of his captives as he passed.

  "What took you so long, Caim?"

  The snarl came from the demonic lips of Belial. His face was almost flawless in its beauty, but it belied the pure evil that hid underneath. There was no one more malevolent, more filled with hate and destruction than Belial. Caim had long stopped fearing him. He looked at him now with total disinterest.

  He leaned his shoulder against the steaming rock wall. It burned a hole through the fabric of his black shirt, down to his skin. It burned his flesh, but Caim did not even wince, such was the life of a fallen angel in hell.

  "So no answer?” Belial asked.

  "Why should I give you excuses, Belial? You are not my master. You only dispense assignments. You are basically a secretary. And as soon as I was summoned, I came,” Caim replied mildly. It gave him great pleasure to see the flaming anger turn red in the demon's eyes.

  "Your insolence will not be forgotten. One of these days, my revenge will be swift."

  "Said the demon to the fallen angel who lives in hell with him.” Caim scoffed, unconcerned. “Why was I summoned? Give me my assignment, secretary, and go back to making coffee."

  With a loud growl that was reminiscent of a lion's roar, Belial was on his feet. His tail lashed the desk in front of him and split it into two. Black ooze flowed from the wood, and talons sprouted from Belial's hands. Gone was the perfect man. Now, the face of a demon was pure and visible in its hate. Caim took battle stance. From his black back wings ripped their way through the fabric of his shirt. In his hands appeared a black sword. If Belial wanted a fight, he would give him one, feathers against scales.

  "Enough!” A booming voice cut through the room and shook loose rocks from the ceiling. Both looked around to the hulking figure that stood in the doorway of an executive office. Samael, the lord of this part of the underworld who only answered to Lucifer himself, looked back and forth between the two. Caim stood and let his wings fall to his side. He knew better than to piss off Samael. Belial, still in demon in demon form, ready to fight with razor fangs descended, stood obstinate.

  "Belial, do I have to speak again?” Samael asked coldly.

  "No, sire.” Belial went back to his flawless beauty, and with a wave of his hand, his desk was back to its original position, and not even a splinter of wood was missing.

  "Come, Caim. We shall speak in here,” Samael said. He spoke like any businessman would speak, but Caim knew the demon under the business suit was the cause of some of man's greatest downfalls. “Why do you aggravate him so? You know Belial has a short fuse."

  "I have to find my enjoyment in this place somehow,” Caim murmured.

  "The way you say it would make a demon think you were not happy here.” Samael fixed him with a dark stare.

  "Are you happy here?” Caim asked pointedly.

  The question caused Samael to laugh. “Fuck no, that's why I go topside as much as I can."

  "So why am I here?"

  "Your performance has been lacking, Caim. You left two souls’ debts uncollected from yesterday. You know the Devil always gets his dues, and you know how he gets when he doesn't."

  "What souls? I received no calls.” Caim knew who was responsible, but
said nothing.

  "Belial sent the call out himself,” Samael replied, tapping a long, taloned finger on his mahogany desk.

  "Oh, a demon who doesn't lie,” Caim said sarcastically. “Belial plays childish games. He's being an asshole."

  "Remember to whom you speak, Caim. I could have you chained to Qemuel's wall with a snap of my finger."

  "I apologize, sire. If you say a call came, then I must have been mistaken. I shall take my duties more diligently.” Caim made his tone as apologetic as possible, even though apologizing was the farthest thing from his mind.

  "See that you do.” Samael paused. “You are my favorites, you and Belial both. I wish my boys would get along."

  Caim bit his tongue against the remark that rose to his lips. His boys. Caim had not let the demonic part of a fallen angel take hold. He did not plan to let the evil corrupt his soul more than it had. “Sire, I shall do my best to make peace with Belial. Now I shall go to my duties."

  At Samael's nod, he knew he had permission to leave. He left the office and passed his nemesis, whose dark look did nothing to falter his steps. He would go collect the debts owed to the Devil, and then he would find his happiness, his Bliss.

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  Never make a deal with the Devil. Caim had seen it so many times generation after generation. Men's greed, women's lust for endless beauty, love of money and power. For as little as getting the girl, humans put themselves in debt to Lucifer. When it was time for the debt to be collected, then was when the magnitude of what they had done seeped in. This was one of Belial's contracts. Caim could almost see the sweet smile on his face as he got her to sign. Two sides of the same coin, Belial was the proprietor of contracts. He was a soul collector, a fallen angel who collected the Devil's pay, and it was time to work. In his open hand, two contracts appeared. The bottom of each was signed in blood.

  Caim lifted the parchment to his nose and inhaled the life essence of each new soul. He closed his eyes and phased out of the demon realm of hell and into the office of his first collection, Daniela Delight of Delights Cosmetics. She had been a teenage blonde with a new baby living in a trailer park. Now she was the president of a multimillion-dollar conglomerate known across the world. She had signed the contract in a stifling hot trailer with a crying baby on her hip and tears in her eyes. Everything had changed for her. She had given up the child and had forgotten where she came from. She became hard and cruel, only searching for more fame and fortune. But when Caim phased into her luxurious office, Daniela had known it was time to leave, and she was making preparations.

  Not a glimmer of surprise crossed her face when Caim appeared, but there was sadness in her eyes. She looked down at a stack of files on her desk.

  She began talking while Caim stood there silently regarding her. “You know I'd give all this up to see my daughter again.” She was signing paper after paper as she spoke. “I gave her to my mother, and I only sent money every month to take care of her. The last time I saw them, she was six months old. That was eighteen years ago."

  Caim still stood silent. This was sometimes part of the job, listening to the lost before they descended to hell.

  "You're the one he sent for me?” she asked simply. She continued to scribble furiously on the papers. One after the other, she signed with haste.

  "I am Caim, and I am the collector of his debts."

  "I am signing everything I won over to my daughter Lorelei. I hope she makes a better life for herself with this than I ever did. I should have stayed in that trailer park and earned my way out.” She closed the last file and set the pen down on top gently. She stood and crossed the room from behind her desk. “I'm ready."

  Caim nodded. He moved from his position and stood before her. She tried to straighten her back to make her five-feet-two inches seem like more against his six feet. Caim liked her strength, her bravery. He always felt remorse for the ones who knew their dealings with Belial was a mistake, but faced it with honor. He would make it as painless as possible for her because he knew what she would face when her soul went to hell. Caim placed a gentle hand on her back. He heard her gasp when his wings, black as the feathers of a raven, unfurled from his back. He placed his other hand on her chest and tried to pull her soul slowly from her body. Her low cry was the only sound she made as her body crumpled to the floor. Her soul stood next to him now. They both looked down at the shell of her body.

  "How will they think I died?” Daniela asked.

  "Heart attack. It's time to go."

  "I'll be in pain for eternity, won't I?” she asked softly.

  Caim could not lie to her. The truth would be hard enough as is. It was better she expected it beforehand. As they phased out of her office, back to hell, his words echoed. “Yes, you will be."

  The second soul he went after was an old man, which meant he was not going to go easily. He had hired guards to protect him at all times. Conrad Pendleton of PenCon Foods felt he could outsmart the Devil's collector. When he had signed the contract, he lived in one room over a Laundromat in Chicago. Now, his mansion was bigger than most apartment complexes, and he still longed for more. Caim could smell the greed rolling off him as he stood in the middle of the mansion and the armed guards lay strewn around his feet.

  "Did you really think you could get out of your deal?” Caim asked mildly.

  "I ... I can give you money, power, whatever you wish!” Conrad stammered hysterically.

  "There is nothing you can offer me that I want, old man, except your fate."

  "I was a child. I didn't know what I was doing!” Conrad shouted.

  He opened a drawer quickly and pulled out a gun. He fired rapidly, and each bullet hit Caim in his chest. Caim stood under the barrage of bullets, and when silence reigned once more, his patience was at an end. Each piece of lead fell out of his body as his wings ripped from his back. He strode toward the desk.

  Conrad Pendleton stared at the towering presence coming toward him. Caim ripped the soul from his body amid his screams. He felt no pity for this man. What lined his pockets and what he held in the bank were more important to him than anything else. The man begged and pleaded for a reprieve, but there was none to give. Even if he could offer him solace, Caim knew he did not deserve it.

  When the soul was taken from him at the gates of hell by the reaper, the hounds of hell bit at Conrad Pendleton's feet. They could smell the fear, and his shrieks of fright and pain only excited the beasts more. Caim turned away from the grotesque scene playing out in front of him. The reaper dragged the bleeding man away. It was a scene he had been part of for too long. He wanted peace, but it would be a long road before he could call it his own. He had to be very careful as well. If anyone caught on to his plan, he would be more damned than Mr. Pendleton, screaming in the darkest pits.

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  Chapter Two

  Bliss stood beside her car, and the cool evening air caressed her creamy skin. It was fall in her small town. Only about two thousand people called Merry, North Carolina, home. With the leaves floating to the grass beneath the outstretched branches of the trees, they blanketed the green with the vibrant colors of fall. She could see why the founders had named this town Merry. You couldn't help the bubble of happiness that this kind of evening brought. She was working the night shift, and it started at six. She pulled her bag from the car and headed through the swishing door of the hospital.

  With the usual greeting to fellow workers, she got on the elevator that took her to her little office on the third floor. Outside she grabbed the door handle and hesitated just for just a moment. For the past few weeks, whenever she was in the office alone, she felt as if someone was watching her. She did not feel threatened, just watched, as if the person had a fascination with her or with what she did. A ghostly phantom who loved phlebotomists. Bliss smiled and shrugged off the thought. She turned the cool metal and flipped the light switch that was on the wall. The room flooded with light, and her little slice of heaven was op
en for business.

  A little knock on her door made her look up from stowing her bag in the drawers of her desk. Bliss smiled warmly in greeting to the woman who stood in her doorway.

  "How's it going tonight, Amber?” Bliss asked. Amber was a nurse in the ER and one of her close friends. She was a redhead with gorgeous blue eyes, and next to her pixielike body, Bliss felt like a giant.

  "You know Merry in a full moon. The freaks come out at night,” Amber singsonged.

  Bliss laughed. “Anything for me to do?"

  "That's why I'm here. Four charts all need blood drawn and tests run.” Amber said. “Hey, are you taller today?"

  "I'm wearing heels. I went shopping before work and picked these up at Clara's, so I'm trying them out.” Bliss stuck her foot out for her friend to see the new red heels.

  "Ooh la-la, flashy! Do you have a date or something?"

  "No, I decided to splurge for once.” Bliss stood at an Amazonian height of five-feet-eleven inches. With too many curves and a skin color that seemed flat, Bliss didn't think of herself as a beauty. She just thought of herself as plain, ol’ oatmeal in a small-town bowl.

  "You'd better change out of those before the rush comes in.” Amber flashed a smile as she handed Bliss the charts with a flourish. “I am sure we'll be running around before the night is over."

  Amber's premonition was soon proved correct. The emergency room filled with people who came up with the weirdest things to do in a small town. One man, who was trying to shoot an apple off his friend's head, missed and got the shoulder instead. They forgot to mention they were stone-cold drunk when they tried this little exercise. Another case that came through the door was four kids who thought it was really great to go tip over a cow while it was sleeping. Unfortunately, they picked on a bull, and one of them got a horn in the rear for it. Of all the stupidity! Bliss fumed as she drew their blood for testing. Some cases softened her heart and made tears come to her eyes. One woman came in with her son. The baby was two, and his fever was raging. He cried from being sick and from Bliss trying to get a needle into his arm. She was one of the best at what she did, and soon she had what she needed to find out why the poor boy was sick. But damn, every time he cried or sobbed, Bliss felt her own tears begin to form.