by V L Moon
“You fucking bastard.” Hatred shone in the Nephilim’s eyes when he landed two feet away from Malachi.
“You act surprised, Celix. I thought you knew my reputation.” Primed for battle, hunger forgotten, Malachi prowled toward the Nephilim. Celix stood his ground, wings at full mount. The feathers ruffled in the breeze and Malachi’s gut twisted.
Two months. Laziel had been gone for two months, and he was no closer to finding his male. Darklon had practically disappeared. He was rarely seen in the royal enclave and shied away from any event Malachi attended. And, despite wild rampages through the Nephilim population which decimated their numbers, he hadn’t found one that knew anything about where Loz was being held.
He’d scoured the city from one end to the other, knew intimately every dark corner, alleyway and basement. The only link he had, the only thing that kept him sane was the faint bond flickering in his mind. And, even that was unreliable. On the odd occasion, he was able to force a response there was the oddest echo. Almost as if someone else was there, coasting on their bond. Was it Darklon? Had he found a way into the angel’s psyche?
“They stopped fighting because I told them to,” the large male spat, jerking Malachi from his thoughts.
“Your mistake, asshole. I don’t fucking take orders from you.” Malachi shrugged. “They would have died anyway. This way saved them a hell of a lot of pain before they got dead. And, in case you missed it, I’m not in the mood for banter.” He lunged, but quicker than lightening the half-breed took wing.
“I’m not here to fight with you, vampire. You have something I want, I have something you want. I propose a trade.” The down rush of air from the wings fanned across Malachi’s face. He stilled. Menace swam in the air around him.
“Do I look like fucking Traders-R-Us or some shit?” Malachi growled. “The only thing I want is you dead at my feet.”
“Well, I see the angel is the brains of the bunch. You aren’t even going to ask what I have?” Celix taunted. Malachi leaped a vertical jump any pole vaulter would have envied and grabbed the Nephilim by the ankle. The harsh downswing of his arm slammed Celix into the grungy pavement. A pained groan strangled in the male’s throat, caught by Malachi’s forearm pressing against his larynx. Trembling fingers dug at his flesh.
“He may have the brains and the beauty, motherfucker. But I got the brawn and a savage thirst for blood and death.” He hissed in the male’s face. Celix bucked and struggled trying his damnedest to dislodge him, but death clambered at Malachi’s soul, demanding blood.
“Ga…bri…el.” Celix gasped. Fear and anger danced in his eyes. He gave up the fight and his body went limp. The three syllables ramped up the beast writhing just beneath Malachi’s skin. Cursing vehemently, he shoved to his feet and dragged the male up with him. Reluctantly, he released the big bastard. They faced off each sizing up the other.
“Talk and do it fast,” he demanded.
“I’m not one of your minions to order about,” Celix sneered. Malachi backhanded him across the face and sent him crashing to his knees. Blood oozed from his flayed cheek and his lip when he looked up with eyes full of revulsion.
“You’re the motherfucker that wanted to flap your gums, Nephilim. Now, you either spill whatever the fuck it is you have to say, or I’m getting busy plucking feathers. They annoy me,” Malachi drawled, his voice full of danger. Putting action to words, he plucked a long butter yellow feather from the arch of the half-breed’s wing. The turmoil in his gut shot up to explode in his chest at the soft brush against his fingers. Celix hissed and climbed to his feet.
“Before I give you anything, I want your word you’ll give me what I want in return.” Celix’s stipulation brought a smile to Malachi’s lips. An evil one.
“You trust a vampire to keep his word?” he taunted. A scowl marred Celix’s expression. “No matter, asshole. Your only bargaining tool is your life. If you have any hope of leaving here alive, tell me what the fuck you know about Gabriel.” He dropped the feather and crushed it under his boot heel. “Or, I can play nasty like last time and take what I want from your mind and leave you a blithering idiot.”
“And you wonder why we hate your kind. Your arrogance will be your downfall, vampire.” Clariel sneered.
“I don’t give one fuck why you hate us. What I do give a fuck about is ending this damn heart to heart you insist on.” Malachi rolled his shoulders and pulled the knife tucked away in the back of his waistband. Celix’s lips firmed.
“Gabriel left the city. He conned one of my brethren into helping him with the promise of intel on Darklon’s true plans for us. When we realized Calus was missing, it was too late.” Celix’s eyes hardened. “He’d been murdered. His body was dumped and left for the animals.” The male’s wings rustled with agitation.
Wary, Malachi shifted his weight and flipped the knife into the air, catching it again by the hilt before sending it flying again. “If you know all of this, why tell me? Why haven’t you gone after Gabriel?”
“Our Queen has forbidden anyone to touch him. If we find him, we are to turn him over to Darklon. I don’t trust the sorry piece of shit to dispose of him,” he snarled.
“Yet, you trust me to do so?” Malachi asked and pinned the male with his stare.
Celix snorted. “No, I don’t trust you. But, word on the street is he killed your mate. You seem the possessive, vindictive type.”
Malachi’s stomach twisted painfully. Bile rose in his throat, threatening to choke him before his fury kicked in and burned it away. No way Laziel was dead. No fucking way. His hands curled into fists and he shoved at the invisible barrier to their bond with every molecule of his will. He crashed through into pain so intense it brought him to his knees. The knife clattered to the pavement. Both hands tunneled into his hair, and a roar echoed off the walls around them. He rocked back and forth cradling his head. Nausea churned in his stomach.
“Laziel!” The name slid from his lips on a moan. For the briefest of moments, Laz was there. The soothing, familiar golden glow of his male reached out, and he swore he felt a finger trail over his cheek. Energy pulsed through him despite the horrific pain swirling in the angel’s mind. The agony tore at his heart; at his very soul. Something fluttered along the edges of Laziel’s presence. The other awareness. And then, Laziel was gone. Lorenza stormed the connection and slammed the barrier hard enough to draw a gasp of pain from Malachi.
“Nooooooooooooooo!” He moaned, rocking back and forth. Hunger, loneliness and fear wrapped chilling fingers around his heart. He hated the female; wanted to strangle her for keeping his male from him. But, to do so would harm the very one he wanted. Everything in his life was a twisted fucking mess.
“Vampire! What the fuck?” Strong hands landed on his shoulders and shook him. Malachi erupted up from the ground, fingers digging into Celix’s throat. Adrenaline fueled the wildness of his vampiric nature. He was quickly losing the battle for self-control. It took every ounce of concentration to loosen his grip, one finger at a time. He stepped back breathing hard.
“Where?” The word was so guttural, he wasn’t sure Celix understood. But, the male spoke.
“Catanzaro, his home before his appointment with the Pope.” Malachi took another step back as the demon inside him howled for blood. Absently, he gathered the knives he’d dropped earlier and tucked them away. When he closed his eyes to port himself to the city down south, Celix reached out again. Malachi’s eyes flipped open bathing the half breed in crimson.
“Please.” The tremble in the male’s voice told Malachi how difficult the plea was. He stood still, waiting. “I’ve been hunting another of ours. He was last seen in battle with you. His name is Clariel. He wasn’t meant for this war, but our Queen forced him. Is he…did you…?” Kill him. The words remained unspoken, but Malachi knew. Real pain and concern swam in the Nephilim’s eyes. Having experienced that same uncertainty only seconds ago, Malachi relented.
“Clariel lives.” Celix’s shoulders
slumped and the scent of tears burned Malachi’s nose, surprising him. Celix and the other Nephilim rarely loved anyone but themselves, or so he believed. The uncharacteristic display yanked an explanation from Malachi. “He’s taken Gabriel’s place as the Pope’s assistant. He’s under the watchful eye of an angel who will end him without qualm if he shows any sign of deceit.”
An actual smile curved Celix’s lips. “So he’s under Laziel’s protection?” Malachi nodded sharply, unwilling for anyone outside the enclave to know the Seraphim was gone. “Then I owe you more than the simple revelation of Gabriel’s location.” The Nephilim bowed slightly at the waist, and his expression returned to the familiar sneer.
“Sucks to owe a vampire a favor, especially when it’s the king.” His massive wings unfolded and flapped. “See you around, vampire.” In a matter of seconds he rose above the rooftops and disappeared. Malachi tucked the mystifying confrontation away. His prey had just been run to ground and the kill was imminent. With a thought, he flung himself through the night.
~*~*~*~
Loz’s screams slammed shut the link with Lachi and opened Laziel up to a whole new world of pain. Darklon uncoupled the links that had held Loz in chains for weeks. Her feet hit the floor, and her knees buckled. Lorenza collapsed, but attempted to drag herself away from harm. Laziel forced their form into its self. Loz curled up, protecting her stomach from Darklon’s cruelty.
The Elder raged, plowing fists and feet into Loz, screaming as he did. “Malachi will come to heel and bow at my feet, you bitch. He can have you back—piece by piece. Let’s see how fast that cocksucker abdicates once he sees what I have in store for his little whore,” Darklon raged.
“Let him send Laziel to do his dirty work; I’ll take that fucker too and send Malachi his angel’s ball sac back in a box.” Darklon whirled on his heels; his eyes wild and full of hatred. Loz shrank from him, crawled into a corner of the room and rolled into a ball.
Seconds passed and the room fell silent. Vischeral’s eyes looked on from where his pictures lay scattered on the floor. A chill crawled over Loz, and she mentally prepared herself for what was to come. She sensed the deranged Elder returning to the room and lay silent praying he’d worn himself out.
No such luck.
A brutal hand raked through her hair, followed by the cold edge of steel as Darklon tore into her scalp and cut at her hair. It dropped to the floor in matted, bloody clumps. The Elder laughed, hacking at her hair until there was nothing left. “This is just the start. If Malachi refuses to abdicate, I’ll keep cutting away at you until the day comes when the only thing left of you is your heart. And then, I’ll fry that little morsel up and devour it. There won’t be anything left for him left except the pain of knowing he’ll never have your heart. It will belong to me, as Vischeral’s belongs to him.”
Tears welled in Loz’s eyes, and Laziel screamed at their burn. He couldn’t let them fall. As much as Darklon’s words hurt, he’d always known there was a chance Malachi loved Bourne, but to cry would give Laziel away. An angel’s tears fell as rubies, and there would be no way to hide them from Darklon’s deadly glare. Laziel lay silent, watching through Loz’s eyes as Darklon parceled up her hair into a bag. When he turned his attention back in her direction, a look of wonder etched across his face.
The hair in his hands had changed. Instead of the bloody clumps he’d previously seen hanging in waves, there was now a blanket of black satin strands cascading from his hands. Darklon knelt at Loz’s side and grabbed her jaw, turning her face left to right and leaning in to smell her flesh.
The cuts on her head bled openly. Darklon swiped at the thick oozing fluid and brought it up to his mouth. The game was up. If Darklon took just one taste of Laziel’s blood, he would know what he’d captured was in no way part of the vampire race.
“What are you? Your strength is unlike any other female this race has ever known.” he asked, searching her eyes for the answer which eluded him.
“Your worst fucking nightmare,” Lorenza roared and attacked, sinking smaller less pronounced fangs into Darklon’s flesh.
Stunned, Darklon fell back dragging Loz’s body with him. Frantic, he twisted away, causing Loz to tear the flesh on his throat. Blood covered her face and poured into her mouth. She choked on the foul, tainted taste. Even as Darklon fought to pin Loz beneath him, Laziel couldn’t help but think of Lachi’s taste; how different his blood tasted, and how his body felt when he lost control of his will and gave Laziel everything he needed and craved. Those times, the ones spent alone with Lachi in his arms, were the reason Laziel loved him more than Heaven itself.
Darklon wrestled with Loz until she could no longer move. He growled and pushed his legs in-between her thighs. Fear, raw and savage in nature had Laziel snapping at the gates of his acceptance. Torture he’d take. Pain meant very little in the grand scheme of things. But rape. None but Lachi would ever take him in such a way.
Laziel had stayed pure of heart, always believing fate would deliver unto him a mate deserving of his love. And, it did. Only now, Laziel’s honor was at stake. Injuries and heartbreak, they healed. Even if Lachi truly did own Vischeral’s heart, Laziel would accept it, He would return to once more take the Creator’s side, happy in the knowledge Lachi, at least, was happy and safe; even if it was in the arms of someone else. But, defilement at the hands of Darklon De Sangue or anyone else was an abhorrence Laziel wouldn’t take.
“By the end of this, it’ll be my name you’re screaming, female. And, any hope of Denali wanting you after I’m done will be nil.” He laughed harshly. “Icing on the cake. I wish I could see his face when he finds out I’ve taken his mate, in more ways than one” Darklon surged up, grinding himself against Loz as she struggled to get free.
“Now I know why Bourne ran. If this is all you could offer him, it’s no wonder he chose to love Malachi the way he did, and still does. I bet wherever Vischeral is, he still dreams of the kiss they shared, the times spent alone when Malachi escaped from Laziel. He was happy then. Happier than someone like you could ever make him.” The words tore at Loz as she screamed them into Darklon’s face.
The Elder buckled and faltered. Loz used the vampire’s distraction to roll out from under him and scoot away. Darklon snarled and lunged, ripping at her clothing. But, Laziel was too hell-bent on getting away. Loz kicked out at Darklon, catching him in the face with her feet before scrambling back against the wall.
“You’ll never find him, and you’ll never take me. I’d rather die than have you touch me. Do it! Kill me, kill me right now.” Loz screamed. The rise in her temper tainted the air. Inwardly, Laziel calmed her, or tried. She was spiraling into frenzy, and by the look on Darklon’s face, he wasn’t used to such behavior from a female of his race. His face darkened, and he rose to his feet. A sense of decorum returned to his features as he gathered up the chains he’d hung Loz from earlier. Calmly, he attached one end to the wall and wrapped the other end around her neck.
This is it, Laziel thought when Darklon snapped a lock onto the links hanging round their neck. If Darklon intended to hang Loz, he’d have to force his male persona out and take control. They’d lose the child. The thought of losing the part of Lachi growing inside Loz tore at Laziel’s heart. But, if he didn’t take control, there was a risk Loz could lose the small grasp she held on her restraint and take them all down. Although she was weaker than Laziel in his male form, Loz still wielded enough power to cause Darklon and anyone else within her vicinity a shitload of misery and pain.
Why didn’t he just kill Darklon and walk away? He’d asked himself that very same question a hundred times every freaking day. The truth was—fate had its own hand to play. Whatever its course, Laziel knew Darklon wouldn’t die by his hands. There was more at risk than Laziel’s future with Lachi, or even the fate of their unborn child’s life. The preternatural world was shifting, coming together as though readying itself for something bigger than Laziel could possibly imagine. He could feel it; s
omething huge, larger than what was at stake in their torture chamber. His predicament was just a small part of it. The warm up so to speak.
Manacles locked into place around Loz’s wrists, and Darklon tethered them to the same chain that ran from her neck. Before walking from the room and leaving her alone in the dark and lonely room, he glared at her hard. He still wasn’t sure how the hair had changed. Loz stared back, defiant and mute.
As soon as Darklon slammed out of the room, Laziel urged his female body to move, but Loz refused. Instead, she whimpered and curled back into a ball as the tears finally crested and refused to be stopped. The sorrow in Laziel’s heart filled them and his vision swam. He was broken, lost to the misery only Lachi could heal. Everywhere he looked, he found the reminder of what should have been. Vischeral would have loved Lachi, probably still did.
In his mind, Laziel pictured himself coiled around Loz; protecting her, taking her pain and giving her in return all of his strength and love for the child in her womb. He filled her heart with the little celestial light he had left and watched as it healed the more serious of her wounds. Darklon wouldn’t allow Loz to live; Laziel knew that now. He felt the feminine hold of her mind slipping away, more and more each day. Was his life to be sacrificed for the greater good?
Silently, Laziel prayed, implored the Creator to guide Lachi and keep him safe. Desperately, he beseeched his God to oversee and protect the vampire he loved as well as the child they’d been so lucky to create.
~*~*~*~
Lachi took form in one of the narrow alleyways leading into the Piazza Grimaldi. Long-legged strides carried him into the nearly deserted square. In the early hours before dawn, few humans stirred, and the vampires clung to the shadows. They could not, however, hide from Malachi. He stopped in the middle of the square, boots planted firmly and arms crossed over his chest.