Tirade (Heven and Hell #3)(83)
Author: Cambria Hebert

“What would it do to your soul if I killed him?”

Sam lunged, baring his teeth and sinking them into the flesh of Beelzebub’s shoulder. Sam fell back, making some sort of choking sound, and Beelzebub chortled. He looked vulgar and disgusting standing over Sam. He was bleeding from so many places I had no idea where he was injured. His arm hung from his body, barely attached, and his face was completely destroyed. Yet he was still standing. Sam made another gagging sound and blood poured from his mouth. Then something covered in gore fell out of his mouth and he collapsed.

Beelzebub made a tsking sound. “You should have been paying attention.” He picked up the glob that fell from Sam’s throat and wiped it on his pants. “You never know where I might hide a razor blade.” He laughed. “I bet those really hurt going down.”

Oh. My. God.

Beelzebub tossed the blade onto the ground and stalked toward me.

Run, Heven, Sam said.

I wasn’t going to run. I’d had enough.

Beelzebub looked at me and smiled. Then he pulled a dagger out of his bootleg and turned to face Sam. “Give me the name.”

From out of nowhere, Logan launched himself at Beelzebub. He leaped onto his back and used a dagger that was in his hand to stab him in the shoulder. Beelzebub screamed in agony and rage. He reached around and grabbed Logan, slamming him down onto the unforgiving ground. Sam got up on wobbly legs, but fell back down, coughing up more blood. Beelzebub laughed and raised the dagger over Logan’s body and I threw myself at him. We rolled across the granite floor. Beelzebub landed on top. “The name!” he screamed, holding the dagger high.

“Heven!” Logan cried fiercely and charged Beelzebub, who turned and buried the dagger into Logan’s chest.

“No!” I screamed. “No!”

Beelzebub twisted the dagger and laughed. “Give. Me. The. Name.”

Logan looked at me with wide, unblinking eyes. Shock registered on his face.

“Okay, I’ll tell you.”

Beelzebub turned to me, still holding the dagger and Logan in the air. I closed my eyes, asking my memory to call up the picture of the Map. It came easily as Logan began to cough. Warm droplets of blood splattered my face. I began to cry.

Then I saw it. The name.

It was scrawled right next to the words Soul Reaper.

I opened my eyes.

“Let him go,” I demanded, proud of the even tone of my voice.

Beelzebub viciously yanked the dagger out of Logan and dropped him onto the ground. He lay there, unmoving. I scrambled to his side and took his face in my hands.

“Logan!” I said as his eyes fluttered open and he looked at me.

“Are you all right?”

A sob ripped from my throat. “Yes, thanks to you.”

Beelzebub grabbed me from behind, but then an arrow shot into his back and a dagger buried itself in his side. I looked behind him to see my friends advancing.

“Tell me the name or I will kill you all,” he said as Sam raised himself up to loom behind him. His eyes were wild.

“It’s me,” I said, looking him straight in the eye. “I am the Soul Reaper.”

And then Sam took him down. He did not get back up. Sam collapsed beside us and Gemma ran over and shoved her hand down his throat and grimaced. When she pulled it back out, she had two razor blades in her hand.

Sam shifted and crawled over to where his brother lay gasping and took his shoulders in his hands. “Logan.”

Logan smiled.

“Gemma,” Sam said, hoarse. “Get over here!”

“No,” Logan said. “Let me go, Sam.”

“What? No!” Sam cried, his voice hoarse. “We will take you to Ana. The tea, it will heal you.”

Logan was shaking his head. “No. There’s not enough time. And even if there was… I don’t want to live, Sam. That stuff would only help someone who truly wanted to heal.”

“You do want to live! Don’t say that! I want you to live!” Sam looked up, his eyes were completely desperate. “Heven!”

I crawled closer and yanked out the pouch that held the dried flower dust I used on Hecate. Maybe this would work like the tea, or at least buy us some time to get back to Ana. I dumped what was left of it onto my palm and prayed it would be enough. Logan was shaking his head when I lowered my hand and gently blew the dust over him.

We all stood there silently waiting, watching to see if it would work.

The dust glittered and danced over Logan, bringing life into the air and then it floated down onto his chest, making him sparkle.

And then the sparkles faded and the dust turned gray.

Sam made a sobbing sound and grabbed at his brother’s arm.

“I told you. I’m too broken.” Logan smiled. “I was dying anyway. This is faster; it’s easier. You have to let me go.”

“No, I won’t,” Sam said. A single tear fell from his eye, making a track through the ash and dirt on his face.

“I made amends for everything I did. I was strong, like you.”

I started to cry. He was such a good person, a strong person. He deserved better than this. Than death. I crouched down on his other side and took his hand in mine. “You’re the strongest of us all.”

Logan coughed, but then he smiled. “I learned it all from Sam.”

“Gemma,” Sam cried. “Please.”

“Let me go,” Logan said softly. “It’s peaceful there. It doesn’t hurt. I can already see the light… It’s welcoming me.”

Sam put his head down and began to cry. Logan grabbed his hand. “Don’t cry for me. I’m going to be just fine. I love you.”

“I love you too, Logan,” Sam said, wiping his face with the back of his hand.

And then all the light, the life, went out of Logan’s eyes. His body released the pain it held and his muscles relaxed.

He died.

We all cried. We all stood there looking down on the boy whose life was cut too short. We would never see him smile again, or watch his eyes light up at the sight of a new comic book. We would never again hear him laugh at his video game or find stashed candy wrappers all over the house.

We would never be touched by his love again.

Gemma was the first to move away. She went to Riley, who still lay gagging from the razors that Beelzebub stashed on his clothing and body. She must have healed him because he appeared, dressed and in his human form, beside us and looked down at Logan with sadness on his face.

Sam was broken. He sat clutching his brother, not saying a word, not looking at anyone. He simply sat with silent tears dripping off his chin. It wasn’t the time for me to try to comfort him because there was no comfort I could give. Some pain just couldn’t be taken away.