A Beautiful Evil (A Beautiful Book. 1) #Wattys2015

Chapter Nineteen - Gargoyle in the Mirror

I landed on my back with a grunt, my spine hitting the ground with enough force to knock the wind from my body. Expanding my lungs, I was surprised to have hot, dry air race down my throat; not the warm, dewy wind of Louisiana that tasted of earth and rain.

There were two more thumps followed by grunts and curses, and I didn't need to open my eyes to know it was the brothers.

Sitting up, I scanned our surroundings, rubbing the back of my skull. The first thing that caught my eye were the rock formations that sprouted out of the ground. There weren't many, but the few that scattered the landscape reminded me of the bumps on the back of a toad. Short, fat, and flattened; but still large in their own right. Little green and brown shrubs littered the landscape, somehow flourishing in the brown, gritty sand that held their roots.

The sky was still dark with night and the darkness kissed my flesh, making me smile. The moon beamed down, alighting the word in light blues and purples.

"I hate teleporting," mumbles Charles, his head in his hands, fingers rubbing small circles along his temples. I can't help but smile.

"Damn right," Avery grumbles, using his arms to push himself off the dusty ground. He looks so much different than what he did in the throne room. He's wearing new clothes, as well. A dark, plain V-neck with short sleeves clings to his muscular arms and slender body. Dark jeans cling to his waist and black leather boots that are faded with age cover his feet. There are still faint bruises under his eyes, but besides a few shallow scratches, he looks healed.

My gaze flickers over Charles, and he looks well healed too. He's wearing light jeans that are ripped at the knees and a white, long sleeve shirt with the words 'Ladies' Man' written across the front in bold font. Brown tennis shoes protect his toes for the sand and his hair is ruffled and gelled in spikes.

I almost laugh at the irony in their clothes. One dressed in lights and the other cloaked in darks. I can almost see the smug smile on my fathers face at his choice of clothing, and at this thought, I do smile. We look just like average teenagers.

"So now what are we going to do?" asks Charles, standing and brushing off his clothes and shaking grit from his hair. "There's no where to go, and we don't know what the hell we're doing."

There seems to be a warm pulse on the side of my hip, and I instinctively move my hand to inspect it. Lifting up the new shirt I'm wearing - a red T with the letters 'MCR' , for My Chemical Romance, painted across the front, accompanied by a large white spider - I see the blade my father created nestled between my jeans and hip bone, pulsing with a soft red hue, as if it was living and had a heart beat. "Check your jeans," I say.

They do as told, and both hold up a dagger that mirrors my own. There's a loud crash to the right of us, and we all jump. A backpack sits in one of the bushes, its neon orange fabric a beacon in the night. Really, Dad? Orange? I grumble internally.

Picking it off the branches, I kneel on one knee, opening the zipper and inspecting the contents. Energy bars, bottles of water, thee flashlights, a huge wad of cash, and three ankle straps to hold the blades to our legs without looking suspicious. I'm about to zip up the back when my hand comes across something smooth and hard. A piece of paper, with spirally print written across it.

I lift it up, and the moon gives the white paper a blue glow. It reads:

Mara,

Remember what your lizard told you. Take things literal. Prophecies from a dragon are normally black and white. Make me proud.

L

L for Lucifer. Take things litteral? I replay Alkaia's words in my minds, picking through her words till my brain feels like putty. She said Asmodeus would be found between between the souls of God and Demon, but there was no such thing that existed.