Holy Hell (Sins of the Father Book Four)
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The dead are rising – and so is Mason's blood pressure.
An ancient threat has awakened. The long-dead paladin Roland wants his holy sword back, and Mason Albrecht is the man to find it. But instead of asking nicely, Roland raises the dead around the world. It’s an international undead incident! The Lorica is on Mason's case, threatening confinement in their high-security Prism. Beelzebub, demon Prince of Gluttony, still wants a taste of nephilim flesh. Mason’s access to the Vestments is severed, stripping him of his arms and armor. And zombies walk the earth. Mason Albrecht wishes he were dead. |
Chapter 1
“Does this breastplate make my butt look too big?”
I preened in the mirror, appraising my reflection in the polished gold. Then I looked over my shoulder, deliberately batting my lashes at the disapproving faces of my roommates. Realmmates? What do you call the people you live with in the same pocket dimension?
Artemis, goddess of the hunt, landlord of Paradise, and proud crazy cat lady rolled her eyes. “It’s a breastplate, stupid. It has no effect on your butt.”
I chuckled. “Made you look.”
Florian, my best buddy and master of all things botanical, gave a weary sigh. “Don’t indulge him. He’s getting cocky now that he has full access to the Vestments again.”
“Hah,” I said, thumping my fist on my chest, the breastplate’s divine steel clanging as I puffed myself up. “Not just full access. I’m better at it, too.” I flexed my arms, admiring myself in the golden mirror that I’d also conjured from the Vestments. The glyphs on my skin, embedded there as permanent heirlooms from my father, glowed as brightly as my mood. “Better, and stronger. Look at me. I’m a vision.”
In the mirror, black eyes stared at me from out of a gorilla’s irritated face, smoldering with feral disapproval. “Ook,” Priscilla said, a word she used for everything, but in that moment, she somehow managed to make it drip with so much derision.
“I would be less cavalier about expending so many uses of your power so freely, Mason Albrecht,’’ said a fourth voice. Raziel, angel of mysteries and feathery fashion buff, glared at the back of my head with a withering intensity.
“Didn’t you hear what I said? I’m better at this now. I feel great. I know what I’m doing. Isn’t the whole point of our mentor-mentee deal seeing me actually grow in power?”
I caught a little glimmer of a smile, but Raziel quickly snuffed it out and replaced it with a stern thinning of his lips. He secretly liked it when I acknowledged that he was my mentor. It made me happy knowing he was proud of the ways I was developing my abilities, too, but we weren’t going to show that to each other. Raziel was way more fun to deal with when he had his buttons pressed.
“Be that as it may, Mason, it does you no good to drain your energies in such a frivolous manner. You may be more experienced now, but you are little different from a human mage. An empty oil lamp cannot burn.”
“Ugh. Whatever. Fine.” I snapped my fingers, appreciating the way the mirror and breastplate disintegrated into a cloud of golden dust as it returned to heaven’s armories. Glittering motes drifted upwards into the brightness of Paradise’s sun.
“And need I remind you that you should be practicing other applications of your powers?”
I folded my arms as I looked defiantly into Raziel’s eyes, my lower lip stuck out. Sure, I was being a huge brat, but once you got Raziel started on one of his lectures, it was next to impossible to get him to stop.
“For example,” he continued, “your gift of flight. Something that hasn’t been practiced in far too long. And what of your talent for actually manifesting objects? Creatio ex nihilo, Mason. You created a cannon out of nothing. How have you been practicing that?”
My lip stuck out even harder, and I quite literally felt my heels digging into the ground. Raziel was right, but again, I wasn’t just going to give him the satisfaction. “One thing at a time,” I said sullenly.
“Glorious,” he said, throwing up one hand. “And I suppose the demon princes and all the other entities of this known earth will be content to wait while you take things one at a bloody time. Belphegor is gone, yes, but for how long? And let’s not forget that you’ve attracted the attention of a far more powerful prince.”
“Lucifer Morningstar,” Florian said. “My mind was still pretty messed up when he showed up, but wow. What a sight.”
“Hush,” Raziel hissed, wrapping his arms and his clothes tighter around himself. Said clothes involved a strange combination of a sleeveless shirt under what appeared to be a sweater with a cowl and cape draping from the neck. Don’t ask. I never cared much for fashion, and if this was the height of it, I was happy to leave the posturing to Raziel.
Artemis yawned, patting her hand dramatically over her open mouth as she clapped Raziel across the back. “Chill out. What are you so afraid of? He didn’t seem too interested in killing any of us. Not at the time, anyway.”
Raziel narrowed his eyes, pulling his ridiculous cowl over his head, his arms gathered around himself as he shuddered. “One never knows, goddess. This is the Great Deceiver that you speak of, the Adversary himself.”
Artemis chuckled. “More like ass-versary, am I right? Did you guys see his butt? I wish more angels took his cue and walked around naked.” She let her hand trail down to Raziel’s waist, then pinched him. “You. Take a hint.”
Raziel yelped. “Blasphemy.”
“Ook,” Priscilla said. “Ook ook.”
“Now, that is an excellent point,” Artemis said, clapping her hands briskly, just once. “Priscilla says that there’s evolutionary evidence for a big butt on a man being an attractive asset.”
Florian laughed. “Haha. Asset.”
Artemis thrust her hips against thin air. “Stronger butt, stronger thighs, stronger thrusts. Circle of life. It’s all connected. Am I right?”
Raziel flustered, his face turning a deep red even in the dark of his cowl. “Now, that’s quite enough!”
“Ook, ook,” Priscilla said, this time gesturing at me. I frowned.
“Priscilla says you need to do more squats before you start bragging about tricking people into looking at your butt. You, specifically.” Artemis raised one eyebrow appraisingly, then tutted. “You’re looking a little flat in the backwoods area.”
I put up my hands, flushing, and wildly offended. “Whoa, now.”
“Ook ook, ook. Ook.”
I frowned harder. “What now?”
“She says it looks like a pair of pancakes,” Artemis said. “If those pancakes were left in the sun to shrivel, and also if a boulder fell on them and made them even flatter.”
I stomped one foot in the dirt, horrified. “She didn’t just say all that. There’s just no way.”
Priscilla smashed her fist into her open palm.
“See?” Artemis said. “Flat.” Florian, sprawled out in the grass, grabbed his stomach as he laughed.
“I will not stand for this body shaming,” I growled. I twisted around, craning my neck as if I could somehow get a good look at my own butt. “I think it’s a perfectly good butt.”
“Have I gone completely mad?” Raziel’s eyes went huge as he cast his gaze across all of us, his voice higher in pitch, all angelic decorum forgotten. “Why are we talking about posteriors and bottoms? What are they even for?”
Florian ran one finger under his eye, then stopped laughing. “You’re joking. They’re for, you know, eliminating, among other things. Making fertilizer. There’s a hole down there, for making poopy.”
“A hole? Preposterous.” Raziel glanced over his shoulder, very much mirroring me as he tried to inspect himself. I clapped a hand over my mouth, struggling not to laugh. “What hole? Stop making things up. You’re making things up, Florian. Fools. You’re all fools.”
Raziel, angel of mysteries, but apparent stranger to human biology, stalked off in a huff, then vanished mid-step, dissipating into a beam of golden light.
I laughed. Typical Raziel. “What’s up his butt?”
Artemis shrugged. “Nothing, apparently. No hole, didn’t you hear?”
I preened in the mirror, appraising my reflection in the polished gold. Then I looked over my shoulder, deliberately batting my lashes at the disapproving faces of my roommates. Realmmates? What do you call the people you live with in the same pocket dimension?
Artemis, goddess of the hunt, landlord of Paradise, and proud crazy cat lady rolled her eyes. “It’s a breastplate, stupid. It has no effect on your butt.”
I chuckled. “Made you look.”
Florian, my best buddy and master of all things botanical, gave a weary sigh. “Don’t indulge him. He’s getting cocky now that he has full access to the Vestments again.”
“Hah,” I said, thumping my fist on my chest, the breastplate’s divine steel clanging as I puffed myself up. “Not just full access. I’m better at it, too.” I flexed my arms, admiring myself in the golden mirror that I’d also conjured from the Vestments. The glyphs on my skin, embedded there as permanent heirlooms from my father, glowed as brightly as my mood. “Better, and stronger. Look at me. I’m a vision.”
In the mirror, black eyes stared at me from out of a gorilla’s irritated face, smoldering with feral disapproval. “Ook,” Priscilla said, a word she used for everything, but in that moment, she somehow managed to make it drip with so much derision.
“I would be less cavalier about expending so many uses of your power so freely, Mason Albrecht,’’ said a fourth voice. Raziel, angel of mysteries and feathery fashion buff, glared at the back of my head with a withering intensity.
“Didn’t you hear what I said? I’m better at this now. I feel great. I know what I’m doing. Isn’t the whole point of our mentor-mentee deal seeing me actually grow in power?”
I caught a little glimmer of a smile, but Raziel quickly snuffed it out and replaced it with a stern thinning of his lips. He secretly liked it when I acknowledged that he was my mentor. It made me happy knowing he was proud of the ways I was developing my abilities, too, but we weren’t going to show that to each other. Raziel was way more fun to deal with when he had his buttons pressed.
“Be that as it may, Mason, it does you no good to drain your energies in such a frivolous manner. You may be more experienced now, but you are little different from a human mage. An empty oil lamp cannot burn.”
“Ugh. Whatever. Fine.” I snapped my fingers, appreciating the way the mirror and breastplate disintegrated into a cloud of golden dust as it returned to heaven’s armories. Glittering motes drifted upwards into the brightness of Paradise’s sun.
“And need I remind you that you should be practicing other applications of your powers?”
I folded my arms as I looked defiantly into Raziel’s eyes, my lower lip stuck out. Sure, I was being a huge brat, but once you got Raziel started on one of his lectures, it was next to impossible to get him to stop.
“For example,” he continued, “your gift of flight. Something that hasn’t been practiced in far too long. And what of your talent for actually manifesting objects? Creatio ex nihilo, Mason. You created a cannon out of nothing. How have you been practicing that?”
My lip stuck out even harder, and I quite literally felt my heels digging into the ground. Raziel was right, but again, I wasn’t just going to give him the satisfaction. “One thing at a time,” I said sullenly.
“Glorious,” he said, throwing up one hand. “And I suppose the demon princes and all the other entities of this known earth will be content to wait while you take things one at a bloody time. Belphegor is gone, yes, but for how long? And let’s not forget that you’ve attracted the attention of a far more powerful prince.”
“Lucifer Morningstar,” Florian said. “My mind was still pretty messed up when he showed up, but wow. What a sight.”
“Hush,” Raziel hissed, wrapping his arms and his clothes tighter around himself. Said clothes involved a strange combination of a sleeveless shirt under what appeared to be a sweater with a cowl and cape draping from the neck. Don’t ask. I never cared much for fashion, and if this was the height of it, I was happy to leave the posturing to Raziel.
Artemis yawned, patting her hand dramatically over her open mouth as she clapped Raziel across the back. “Chill out. What are you so afraid of? He didn’t seem too interested in killing any of us. Not at the time, anyway.”
Raziel narrowed his eyes, pulling his ridiculous cowl over his head, his arms gathered around himself as he shuddered. “One never knows, goddess. This is the Great Deceiver that you speak of, the Adversary himself.”
Artemis chuckled. “More like ass-versary, am I right? Did you guys see his butt? I wish more angels took his cue and walked around naked.” She let her hand trail down to Raziel’s waist, then pinched him. “You. Take a hint.”
Raziel yelped. “Blasphemy.”
“Ook,” Priscilla said. “Ook ook.”
“Now, that is an excellent point,” Artemis said, clapping her hands briskly, just once. “Priscilla says that there’s evolutionary evidence for a big butt on a man being an attractive asset.”
Florian laughed. “Haha. Asset.”
Artemis thrust her hips against thin air. “Stronger butt, stronger thighs, stronger thrusts. Circle of life. It’s all connected. Am I right?”
Raziel flustered, his face turning a deep red even in the dark of his cowl. “Now, that’s quite enough!”
“Ook, ook,” Priscilla said, this time gesturing at me. I frowned.
“Priscilla says you need to do more squats before you start bragging about tricking people into looking at your butt. You, specifically.” Artemis raised one eyebrow appraisingly, then tutted. “You’re looking a little flat in the backwoods area.”
I put up my hands, flushing, and wildly offended. “Whoa, now.”
“Ook ook, ook. Ook.”
I frowned harder. “What now?”
“She says it looks like a pair of pancakes,” Artemis said. “If those pancakes were left in the sun to shrivel, and also if a boulder fell on them and made them even flatter.”
I stomped one foot in the dirt, horrified. “She didn’t just say all that. There’s just no way.”
Priscilla smashed her fist into her open palm.
“See?” Artemis said. “Flat.” Florian, sprawled out in the grass, grabbed his stomach as he laughed.
“I will not stand for this body shaming,” I growled. I twisted around, craning my neck as if I could somehow get a good look at my own butt. “I think it’s a perfectly good butt.”
“Have I gone completely mad?” Raziel’s eyes went huge as he cast his gaze across all of us, his voice higher in pitch, all angelic decorum forgotten. “Why are we talking about posteriors and bottoms? What are they even for?”
Florian ran one finger under his eye, then stopped laughing. “You’re joking. They’re for, you know, eliminating, among other things. Making fertilizer. There’s a hole down there, for making poopy.”
“A hole? Preposterous.” Raziel glanced over his shoulder, very much mirroring me as he tried to inspect himself. I clapped a hand over my mouth, struggling not to laugh. “What hole? Stop making things up. You’re making things up, Florian. Fools. You’re all fools.”
Raziel, angel of mysteries, but apparent stranger to human biology, stalked off in a huff, then vanished mid-step, dissipating into a beam of golden light.
I laughed. Typical Raziel. “What’s up his butt?”
Artemis shrugged. “Nothing, apparently. No hole, didn’t you hear?”