Kiss of Light

by Eve Langlais

  “I don’t take orders well. Ask my father.” He raised his hand to his face and pulled down his dark armor. Desmond feinted towards the angel, enough to make her raise her hands in protection. But rather than follow through and charge, he whirled and shouted, “Hands.”

  Erela held them apart, and his blade sliced the chain. The shove of magic launched at his rear hit the armor shielding him. He gritted his teeth as it vibrated.

  “Feet,” he barked. Because before he could fight, he had to give Erela a chance. He sliced the chains holding her still before whirling.

  The angel advanced on him. Her hair lifted, eyes blazed, magic engulfed her hands in a pure white nimbus. A direct contrast to his darkness.

  “How dare you?” she snapped.

  “Don’t you mean how dare you?” he roared back. “How dare you and any of your ilk think you can rule us. You are not our masters. You don’t get a say in how we govern ourselves. People of the realm, what say you?”

  The angel had forgotten about the tribunal members. But they took note of what had happened and passed their own judgment.

  “Nay.”

  “Never.”

  “We will not be commanded by the likes of you.”

  One by one, they spoke. Except for frozen Kyla, the missing dwarf, and Marduk, whose gaze darted around before making a decision. “I stand with the angel.”

  “Earth doesn’t.” Titus formed from a mist and stood by Kyla.

  “Your plane doesn’t get a vote,” Raphaella countered.

  “Then consider me an ally of those against you.” Titus flicked his hands and daggers appeared.

  “You’ll pay for that choice.”

  “Freedom has no price,” Desmond interrupted.

  “Actually. It does. Your life. A life that is now forfeit.”

  “Who’s going to take it from me? You?” Desmond taunted.

  “You will submit.” A triumphant expression lit Raphaella’s face as the air filled with sound—hundreds of beating wings. “Lay down your arms and surrender to the army of light.”

  A wicked smile pulled at Desmond’s lips. “Surely you didn’t think I came alone.” He whistled. A sharp sound that was answered by a howl. “Did you forget? I am the leader of legions.”

  From the mists between the pillars, bodies poured. Demons for the most part. Ifrits, as well. One shaggy wolf who howled as he charged the descending angels.

  Chaos brought to a place of order.

  Revenge for those who acted against Erela.

  About fucking time.

  Desmond stalked towards Raphaella, his plan very simple. Cut off the head of the snake and the body would die.

  His blade of shadow met that of light in a shower of sparks.

  “Why?” he grunted as he shoved against her strength.

  “She should have never been born,” was the reply as the angel spread her wings and jumped straight up before slamming down with the point of her sword.

  Only he’d moved, and it sank into the rock causing a deep tremor.

  Around them, bodies danced in battle. Demon against angel. Erela faced off with Marduk, while he was stuck with a crazy woman with a god complex.

  “Who are her parents?” Desmond parried, both verbally and with the blade.

  “She fights one now. Neither knows. He was long made to forget.” Raphaella twirled, robe, wings, and hair spinning, the razor edge of her feathers slicing the demon sneaking behind her.

  The words distracted Desmond because the realization hit him. “Arammu, don’t! Marduk is your—”

  Too late. The very same blade Marduk had given Erela as a child punched into his chest. The look of surprise on his face brought one of chagrin to Erela’s. Only for a moment. Marduk must have said something because her expression hardened, and she twisted her sword.

  The distraction cost Desmond. The blow to his side sent him staggering and numbed his arm.

  “Filthy demon lover,” the angel huffed as she kept swinging.

  “Better than a cold, tight shrew,” he riposted, dancing from her blade, darting in for a slice that missed.

  A body slammed into him from above, and for a moment, he was tangled in wings. It took a few strokes before he extricated himself and stood over a body that would serve as dinner once plucked. Fat bastard would feed a few of his people.

  Looking around, Desmond noticed the casualties heavy on all sides. Titus still stood, his position more one of protection around the frozen Kyla, whereas Logan harried the ankles of those still standing.

  But Raphaella was gone.

  And so was Erela.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  When Erela saw the angel who’d started the mess leap for the skies, she followed.

  On foot. Which would seem a disadvantage, and yet wasn’t because she could see the glowing trail Raphaella left behind. She couldn’t lose her.

  She knows who I am.

  Half angel.

  And the daughter of the king.

  She’d heard Raphaella’s words and Desmond’s yell. She just didn’t care.

  A father didn’t try to have his daughter killed. Adoptive or not.

  The mist swallowed Erela the moment she left the arena of fighting. The fog chilled her skin and energized her at the same time. Dulling all the sounds of battle. It was clear to her now that the Netherworld was the land of the angels. The space between all the realms.

  And I spent time here. Erela kept getting flashes of stony ruins. A soft voice and hand. But no face. Every time she tried to focus, the best she managed was a blur.

  The only thing she could say with certainty was that she’d spent time here with an angel. And then was thrust into the human world, Earth, still injured and knowing nothing.

  Why wasn’t she killed then?

  Raphaella might know.

  Through the murky fog, Erela chased the glowing figure overhead. A glow that looked to be getting away.

  Erela yelled, “Coward.”

  For a moment, she thought Raphaella would ignore her, but the nimbus of light descended. From the mists, the angel minced, her white robe swirling and blending with her surroundings. A living fabric fog. Only the eyes blazed with color as they glared.

  “You would dare come after me?”

  Erela didn’t back down. “I would. Because you dared first. Why such hatred?”

  “You are an abomination.”

  “I am the product of two people falling in love.”

  The lip curled. “Love? What a droll concept. Fornication for pleasure is not affection. It is for the beasts.”

  “Then how do angels create?”

  “We don’t.”

  “Then how do you not vanish as you age and die?”

  “We don’t age.”

  “But you can die.”

  “Not easily.”

  A theory Erela would love to test. Decapitation was usually pretty final. “Being almost immortal doesn’t give you the right to rule.”

  “Being superior gave us the right. You should be thanking us. We have brought the realms into a more enlightened place.”

  “More like a cruel one without forgiveness.” Erela took a step toward the angel. “You do know of forgiveness, don’t you? The Bibles on Earth speak of it. Of the angels who preach goodness and love.”

  A sneer met Erela’s words. “An experiment failed. Earth is a reminder of what happens when rules are not followed.”

  “You see it as failure. I see it as many different people living in harmony.”

  “Did you fail to notice the wars?”

  “There are problems as with any society. But the majority are good. Just like I am.” Erela knew that despite what any laws said.

  “Says the bastard who killed her father.”

  “He would have killed me if given the chance.” Erela cocked her head. “Why do you hate me so much?”

  “You exist.”

  “Then why not kill me?” Erela spread her arms. “You’ve obviously known
about me for a while. So why not finish the job?”

  “I can’t.” Words spoken through gritted teeth.

  “Why not?”

  “Because your mother protects you still.” Words spat with vehemence.

  “My mother…” Erela took a step forward, vengeance forgotten in her thirst for knowledge. “You know her.

  “I know she was a foolish female who fell for a mortal. Who carried his child, and then hid it. Hid it under our very noses and used her magic to protect it.”

  “Protected me?” Erela laughed. “I was bullied my entire life. Tortured as an adult. Hunted as if I were a mere trophy.”

  “Yet you still live.”

  “Then kill me.” Again, Erela invited her, realizing the angel had yet to attack. Why?

  Raphaella glared. “You know I can’t.”

  “What do you mean can’t? I saw you fighting.”

  Raphaella’s lips twisted. “I would kill you if it weren’t for the magic that prevents me.”

  “So you used others to do your dirty work.” The master holding the strings of her puppets. Lisandra, Mustafa, how many others?

  “Would that I could do it myself. Instead, I am the voice that guided their actions.”

  “You’re a coward who manipulated others to achieve your ends.”

  “Condemn me for that which you do yourself?” Raphaella remarked.

  “I don’t use others.”

  “A lie so big I am surprised you would even say it. What of the way you bound that vampire and wolf to your side?”

  “They wanted to help me.”

  “Your very existence compelled them to. Part of your stolen heritage.”

  Her angel genes were what drew them? “I released Titus.”

  “Yet he still came to fight for you. As did the wolf. Even the demonic Ifrit can’t help but stand by your side.”

  He’d braved the tribunal, waged war for her. Which could only mean one thing. “Desmond loves me.”

  “Does he?” The query held just enough doubt to gnaw.

  “He does,” said a voice growling from behind her.

  “And the demon lord sniffs her out. How pathetically beast-like of you.”

  “Would you feel better if I said it was your stench that drew me? Corruption tends to leave a ripe trail.” Desmond moved farther from the fog, the gray tendrils of it bending away from him, leaving him distinct and solid in this place of smoke and shadows.

  “We should have condemned you along with the abomination.”

  “You should have. It would have started the rebellion sooner.”

  “Over that?” The pointed finger at Erela was overkill.

  They all got the point.

  “I love her.”

  “Are you sure about that? Is your love real? True?” Raphaella spoke in a sing-song manner. “Don’t forget, despite her forbidden birth, she retains some of our traits. Lulling the weak-minded into bonding themselves to her is one of them.”

  Keyword being weak.

  Desmond smirked. “The mind tricks don’t work on me. So, you can stop trying to smother me in your charm. I’d rather cuddle a Hell Hound.” His hard glare brought laughter to Raphaella’s lips.

  “Your kind ever were difficult to control. Hence why your people are kept penned in Ha’el.”

  “We stay in Ha’el because we like it.” Desmond walked slowly to the left, leaving space between them, his sword dangling loosely by his side.

  “Demon lover.”

  The spat insult made Desmond laugh.

  “Better love than hate.” Erela sprang to his defense.

  “Hideous monsters. It is profane to lie with them.”

  “Better a monster on the outside than ugly on the inside.” Erela didn’t hide her disparagement, and Raphaella reacted only with the slight tightening around her eyes.

  “Your mother had the same attitude. Explains her sleeping with that male.” The moue of disgust proved elegant.

  “You keep speaking as if you know her,” Erela said softly. Part of her heart stilled at the fact that she might learn something, the other half raced in case she didn’t like what she heard.

  “Knew of her. She disappeared a long time ago. It’s why it took so long for us to discover you existed.”

  “Try and contain your disappointment over the fact you couldn’t kill a small child.” The curled lip on Desmond’s face wasn’t disdain but admiration. “And they call my people evil.”

  In spite of the futility, Erela made a demand. “I want my mother’s name.”

  “Why? It does you no good. The shame of birthing you killed her.” Raphaella shuffled her wings. The only thing she did, and yet Erela was possessed by certainty.

  She lies.

  “She’s not dead. You know something,” Erela accused.

  “I will tell you nothing.” The vibrating of wings and the coiling body brought a panicky flutter. If they lost Raphaella, then there went their answers.

  “Leaving so soon?” Desmond strode forward, his blade swinging in a lazy arc, his lips the perfect twist of cruelty, his eyes alight with anticipation. “Shall we dance?”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Raphaella pulled a sword, the edge bright. Brilliant enough to push back the mist.

  Whereas Desmond’s sword…it absorbed the light. He twirled it as he paced the angel opposite Erela, who’d pulled her own rapier.

  “What is the name of Erela’s mother?” Desmond asked, lunging forward.

  Wings spun in a dervish that lifted Raphaella a few feet from the ground. Desmond passed under and whirled.

  The angel sank, flexed her wings, and shoved. Not with her sword but with magic, sending them reeling.

  Until Desmond planted his feet and parted the magic pouring against him.

  Erela yelled.

  Desmond knew better than to turn his head and look, which was why he blinked when a tentacle went flying past him.

  An angry Erela came stalking past, blazing in white fury. “You would call your pets to stab me in the back? Can’t you fight me face-to-face!”

  Pet? A glance behind showed only the dense fog that swirled closer, drawn by the sucking vortex of Desmond’s blade.

  A hum, as if a chord had been struck but louder, vibrated the very air, and drew his gaze.

  Erela stood against Raphaella, the pair of them locked in a staring contest, the air between them shimmering.

  He wondered that the angel didn’t change tactics. Didn’t draw her blade of light.

  The glow intensified, and Raphaella gritted her jaw. Strained.

  Erela cocked her head. “You really can’t kill me.”

  “I can’t, but it can.” The angel’s lips split into a triumphant smile a moment before the tentacle whipped from the mist. Desmond ducked just in time and rose swinging.

  The severed tentacle fell, but more appendages flung themselves from the fog. So fast, Erela barely had time to bat at one before another appeared. And another.

  While the damned angel smirked at it all.

  Cut one tentacle, another appeared. Desmond needed to rid himself of the one causing the problem.

  He ran for Raphaella, sliding under a long, waggling arm as gray as the fog itself. He rose in front of the angel, who didn’t even have the decency to look scared.

  “You’ve lost, Ifrit. Might as well bow your head and submit now. I can be merciful.”

  “Or I can kill you.” He pressed the tip of his blade against her belly.

  She laughed. “Go ahead and try. The seers have already told me I can’t be killed by a mere mortal.”

  “Really?” He slid the sword in deep, through the chest, severing everything in its path.

  Her eyes widened. Her lips parted on a sighed, “How?”

  Desmond leaned close and whispered, “You forgot about the Fallen.”

  As in fallen angel. The descendant of one cast out of the Netherworld. The first Forsaken.

  His father was the one to finally solve it onl
y a day ago. Buried in a tome so old it required magic to hold it together.

  Desmond hadn’t believed it. Him, an Ifrit, actually descended from angels. Angels cast out for a variety of sins. Thrust into Ha’el and expected to die.

  Except they flourished. It took centuries upon centuries before they emerged to take control and by then, no one remembered. Not even the Ifrit.

  The angel, her eyes fluttering shut, expelled one last breath and slid off his blade into a heap on the ground.

  But Desmond didn’t pause to admire. He whirled to see the tentacles withdrawing into the mist. And Erela standing tall, her foot scuffing a pile of dust.

  Alive.

  He didn’t wait for her to come to him. He went to her and scooped her into his arms. He hugged her tightly and whirled her, his face buried in her hair.

  “You came for me.” Her soft statement was whispered.

  “I will always come for you. Forever and ever until the day I die.” He set her down and met her gaze.

  “But how did you find me?” Erela asked, cupping his face, the remnants of her manacles dangling from her wrists. A reminder he’d almost failed her again. But this time, he’d kept the faith.

  While it irked to admit, he said, “I had some help.”

  The wolf stepped out of the thick mist and barked. A truer ally than he would have expected. Agreeing to wait behind while Desmond paved the way. Waiting for a signal.

  Logan never once balked at the crazy plan. It didn’t mean that Desmond didn’t feel a twinge when Erela threw her arms around the beast.

  “Thank you,” she murmured into Logan’s fur.

  Desmond was definitely turning that canine into a rug. The one used by everyone when they came inside after the heavy rains and tromped mud everywhere.

  He turned away lest he be tempted to skin the wolf, and noticed the angel lying on the ground. Dead without giving any answers. He returned to stare at her, wondering if she had pockets. Perhaps something to give them a clue.

  He knelt. The body before him stirred, not entirely dead, after all. He glared at it.

  Saw one purple eye blink and focus on him. The lips pulled into a terrible smile. “Do you know where the tentacle beasts that roam the mists come from, Fallen?”