“When will you do it?”
“Today, with any luck.”
Hugo took a deep breath and put a hand on my shoulder. “I know I don’t need to tell you to be careful, but please do. And tell me if there’s any way I can be of help.”
“Thank you. I will.”
The sun was just breaking over the horizon when I went out to the armory. I put away my bow and quiver, along with all of my blades and stakes. I disarmed down to the forty-five I habitually carried and put everything in its allotted place.
Hearing the door open and shut behind me, I turned around expecting to see my partner, but was surprised to find Creed coming toward me. The moment he reached me, he scooped me up into his arms and held me tight.
“I’ll do it, sugar. I’ll take you to find Yescha.”
I pulled back and looked into his eyes as soon as my feet hit the floor. “What brought this on?”
“Gabe caught me on my way in. He told me about the hellhounds, the vampire, all of it. I didn’t want to put you in danger just for me, but if I can help you… I will.”
I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him hard.
“He said you would. I should have known he was right.”
“I’d do anything for you. Surely you know that.”
If I acknowledged nothing else, he was always one to rectify his mistakes. I thought back to the zombie situation and how he pulled himself together at my behest. So, he’d do anything for me, except seek out the truth of his origins.
But it hit me—he was afraid.
He had hidden behind a desire to protect me, and I didn’t doubt he wanted to, but it hadn’t occurred to me until then that he might fear the unknown. And if he would overcome his fear every time I needed him…
I kissed him again, slower this time, relishing the soft press of his lips against mine. My hands went lower, palms resting on his chest, the heat of him making itself known even through his shirt.
We wouldn’t be alone for long, and I didn’t want to stop at making out in the armory.
“Let’s get outta here,” I said when I pulled back. “I need a shower, then more of that.”
Creed’s brilliant smile cut through the somber look he had worn. “I can handle that.”
Chapter 5
The bedroom felt cold compared to the steamy bathroom when I stepped out with only a fluffy white towel wrapped around me. I had assumed Creed would be waiting and ready to warm me up, but that wasn’t what I found.
He had gotten out of his work clothes and into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. When I appeared in the doorway, he rose from sitting on the edge of my bed and came to me. Taking my face in his hands, he placed a gentle kiss on my lips.
“As much as I want to drop that towel and make all kinds of love to you, I think we should get our visit to Yescha over with first.”
I shivered just as much from the suggestion in his velvety smooth baritone as the cool air on my bare skin. But there was no doubt in my mind he was right. Maybe just a small doubt, but business before pleasure, as the saying goes.
That didn’t stop me from meeting his lips with a heated kiss and tossing my towel aside.
“Hold that thought,” I told him before sauntering into my closet. “We’re getting right back to that when we’re done.”
“Damn, sugar…”
It didn’t take me long to throw on a pair of yoga pants and a tank top. I had little faith in what man-made weapons could do for me in the In-Between, so I didn’t see the need to deck myself out like I normally would for action.
“Where should we do this?” I asked as I went back to the bedroom.
“On the bed.”
I lifted an eyebrow and was about to make a pert remark about why I bothered to put clothes on when Creed chuckled softly.
“It’s safest,” he said. “I need you to be completely relaxed and you’re a fall risk once we’re out.”
“Got it,” I nodded.
I laid down on the bed on my pillow like I would to go to sleep. Creed settled in next to me, turned on his side, and opened his arms. Getting into his embrace felt like the most natural thing to do, so I followed his non-verbal queues without hesitation.
“There’s no, you know, necromancer handbook or anything, so I’m just going by what feels right. This may not work,” he told me.
“I trust you.”
Creed smiled and kissed my forehead before gathering me to his chest and resting his cheek against my head.
“Now, clear your thoughts and relax as much as you can. I’m going to try to capture your consciousness and take it with mine.”
I did as he said and cleared my mind—save the permeating sense of anticipation. After a few silent moments, though, I wondered when he was going to get the show on the road. For one thing, he wasn’t chanting like when I’d encountered him in the graveyard.
“No incantations?” I asked.
“Shhh… Not when I’m not summoning spirits,” he whispered. “Be patient.”
Patience wasn’t a virtue I had in spades, but if the occasion called for it…
Something shifted, like I had a severe case of vertigo. Everything else fell away. I was moving through time and space, but with no reference point to guide me.
Then I heard his voice.
Like a lighthouse on a stormy shore, Creed guided me.
“Remi, I’m here. Come to me.”
I wasn’t sure how, but it bound me to him. When I thought about it later, I realized it must have been similar to how he drew the wayward spirits, only to much different ends.
When I finally felt a sense of gravity return, I found myself in what looked like exactly the place Yescha had brought me to. This time, I had Creed’s hand in mine, and I wasn’t overwhelmed. I was there with my own purpose.
“Yescha,” I called. Though I had no idea how sound carried in that Plane, I didn’t feel I would need to yell. “Yescha, can you hear me?”
In the blink of an eye, the angel appeared before us.
Though nothing in her perfect countenance suggested she was surprised or perturbed at seeing me, she radiated concern.
“Remington? I should have known you would seek me out, but how have you come to—”
Her gaze had turned upon Creed, and the moment it did, she made a hissing sound. In a flash of movement, she had her long, thin blade pointed at his heart.
“Why do you bring this creature before me?” she demanded.
Without hesitation, I stepped between the angel and Creed.
“What do you mean ‘creature?’”
“Spawn of Perdition,” she spat.
Creed winced as though someone had slapped him. My eyes went wide.
“What? What is that supposed me mean?”
“You truly did not know,” Yescha said. Her silver eyes went from me to Creed as she lowered her weapon. “Either of you.”
“It’s why we’re here, or, at least part of why we’re here. Creed is a necromancer. I thought you might be able to tell us why.”
“He is Nephilim,” she stated baldly.
I had heard the word before, but wasn’t sure what it meant. Seemed like it was one of those biblical terms that was hush-hush. In other words, it didn’t come up in any Sunday school lessons I knew of.
“I’m sorry—I’m what?” Creed asked.
“Born of a human and a fallen angel. Much of the bloodline has been diluted over the millennia, but for you to have the ability to call upon the dead… You must be the direct descendant of a Fallen.” Yescha’s tone became more patient as she spoke, but she was still wary of him.
“Creed has been helping us, but you might know that already,” I told her.
“I have been occupied on many fronts and regret that I have not watched over you as well as I should. Does your light react to him, Remington?”
“Yes, but I’ve trained it not to.”
All along, I had believed the light reacted out of my feelings of attraction to Creed
. I never even considered it could be a warning. Either way, it seemed to serve as some sort of confirmation to Yescha.
“Your help to the Amasai is the only reason I refrain from slaying you where you stand,” the angel told Creed.
She stood in silence for a moment and appeared to concentrate. It was just long enough that I was about to ask what was happening, but a diffuse golden light appeared behind her. It grew stronger until a tall male figure materialized.
Where Yescha was all silver and iridescence, her counterpart was gleaming gold. He, too, was perfection made manifest. Taller and powerfully built, I got the feeling he would have no trouble overpowering anyone who dared to cross him—and not just because of his physical strength. There was an aura about him, a glow much like Yescha’s, that radiated divine power.
“This is Michael. Leader of our Order,” Yescha said.
“Michael. As in, the archangel Michael?” I asked, pure skepticism coloring my tone.
His voice was placid, just like Yescha’s, but with a deeper and more melodic intonation. “Is it so difficult to believe? You have encountered a demon prince. Why not an archangel?”
“Because I meet demons every day,” I told him. “Can’t say the same for you angels.”
He didn’t quite smile, but amusement showed itself in his golden eyes. “She is exactly what you have said, Yescha.”
For a brief moment, both angels were silent, and it was apparent they were communicating with each other on some divine wavelength Creed and I weren’t on. Despite not being privy to their telepathic conversation, I didn’t find it hard to guess what they were discussing.
Michael finally addressed Creed aloud. “Step forward, if you will.”
Creed did as he was asked and took a few paces toward Michael. Even at his height, he had to look up to meet the archangel in the eye.
Placing his palm on Creed’s forehead, Michael bowed his head and closed his eyes. He stood that way for about half a minute, with me watching closely for any sign he was hurting him.
“Son of Azazel,” he pronounced. There was a flash of enmity in his golden gaze before his expression reverted to neutral. “You are as Yescha suspected: Nephilim. But for your help to our human allies, your life shall be spared.”
Creed was stone cold silent. I looked at him and watched to see if he was even breathing. His olive complexion went pallid, and he wiped his palms on the front of his jeans.
“My father was… Azazel?” he finally asked, as though struggling to get his head around the revelation.
Truth be told, I was, too.
“Is—he still lives. My brothers and I cast him out ourselves. Rafael imprisoned him, but he escaped some centuries ago.”
I gasped. It was obvious he would be on the loose in order to sire children, but what was to be done about it?
Yescha interrupted my mental panic. “You have nothing to fear from him. Azazel rather likes mortals. His infatuation with your kind ultimately led to his fall.”
While that information put me more at ease, Creed still looked like he was trying to recall the square root of pi. But after thirty years of not knowing your biological father only to be told he’s a fallen angel? It was no wonder he had been hesitant to go digging for answers.
“We must not tarry in this place,” Michael said.
“Wait. I need to speak with Yescha more. About the Holy Light,” I said.
Michael looked at Creed. “You can see yourself back to the proper Plane?”
“Yes, but—”
“I will send her back safely,” Yescha assured.
Creed’s eyes met mine, looking for affirmation. I nodded once. He took a few steps back, then vanished into the ether. I hoped in the few minutes he would be left alone he wouldn’t stew too much. We had a lot to discuss.
“You must part from him,” Yescha said the moment he was gone.
“What? No,” I said. It was a blunt response, but I had no intention of leaving Creed just because of his parentage.
“We have no quarrel with him, but his kind are outcasts. Nephilim are of neither Heaven nor Hell; they are of the Earth and, therefore, unpredictable. His father is an especially cunning and beguiling creature,” Michael warned.
“That explains a lot,” I said under my breath.
The apple didn’t fall far from the tree in the charm department.
“Listen,” I said more directly. “I’m not saying we haven’t had our issues.” Helloooo zombie apocalypse. “But Creed is loyal to us and he’s been hunting vampires for years. I’m not gonna kick him to the curb because a father he doesn’t even know can’t color inside the lines.”
“Obstinate, foolish girl,” Michael pronounced.
I squared my shoulders. “I’ve been called worse.”
“You said Creed was only part of the reason you came herein,” Yescha reminded me.
“Yes, right. The last time we met, when you gave me the light, we were interrupted. I’ve figured out how to control it—mostly. But what does it mean in the grand scheme of things?”
I thought of Valan and his sincere shock at seeing the light within me. The vampire the night before had declared me marked for death. There had to be a good explanation for why this Holy Light thing was such a big deal.
Yescha looked at Michael before addressing me, as though seeking his approval.
“Holy gifts can only be given to mortals in certain circumstances. Your family has proven their loyalty time and again, and your father’s sacrifice made it possible. Your brother is a fire-wielder and you are a light-wielder; powerful weapons against the demons.”
“I was told last night that I’m a sacrifice, that I’m bound for death because I’m a light-wielder.”
“It is true the last mortal to possess the Holy Light died while fighting for our side,” Michael said. “But to call her a sacrifice is not accurate.”
“What a relief,” I said pointedly. It reminded me of what else the bloodsucker had said. “So it’s as simple as that—we fight and die like the pawns on a chessboard while you angels stand back with all your sparkle and immortality and watch it happen.”
“There are old agreements and vows in place that prevent us from interfering in certain situations. We call it the Balance. Yescha was able to come to your aid when Apollyon was summoned because none of you could oppose him.”
“And Valan—one of us is a match for him?” I questioned.
“Yes. You, Hugo, Gabriel… You each posses the ability to defeat him.”
I recalled my last altercation with Valan and though I hadn’t been able to deal the death blow, he hadn’t walked away in one piece like before. He was like any other vampire—all it would take to end him was a stake through his heart. But he was more cunning than the others, and I had an inkling the angels weren’t coughing up all the details.
Maybe we weren’t just pawns—if their hands were tied, it made sense for them to work through us—but we also weren’t on equal footing. Not like true allies. Much like the pawns, we couldn’t see the entire playing field.
But there was one way we could level it.
“We’re going to find the Crossroads and close the breech,” I told them.
“You already know where it is,” Yescha said. “You do not realize it, but the place is familiar to you.”
Not exactly a helpful detail since that could still be anywhere in Dove Creek.
“Any helpful hints on how to close the door and lock it?”
“You have every necessary tool at your disposal to close the gates,” Michael said.
“Work with the light; it will do as you command. Your mind is the only limitation,” Yescha told me.
They were still talking in half-truths and riddles, but I felt they were trying to help. And I obviously had their blessing to shut down our Crossroads, which was a relief. I still had my doubts, though I had gotten more out of our visit than I had hoped for.
“I will,” I told Yescha. “I’ve been here longer tha
n I was last time. It’s time for me to be getting back.”
“Yes, you should not linger here,” Michael agreed. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Remington. I do hope you succeed.”
With that, he evaporated into a golden cloud and faded away.
“Please consider what we have asked of you regarding Creed,” Yescha reminded me. When I opened my mouth to tell her no dice, she lifted an elegant hand to stop me. “Consider it, absent your feelings for him. Until we meet again, Remington.”
Yescha touched the tips of her fingers to my forehead and there was a moment where I lost all sense of time. But the journey out of the Astral Plane was much less of a bumpy ride than the trip into it had been.
I sat straight up in my bed, as though jolted awake from a dream. Creed was pacing my bedroom and came to my side the second he heard me stir.
“Remi, thank God,” he breathed. He gathered me into his arms. “I was worried sick.”
Chapter 6
“What do you mean?” I asked, confused. “I was gone only a few minutes longer than you.”
Creed pulled back but didn’t let go of me. “It was hours on this side. Time moves differently between the Planes.”
I frowned, trying to work out how a handful of moments in the Astral Plane translated to hours in the Mortal Plane. Reaching for my phone on the nightstand, I checked the time. Sure enough, it was late in the afternoon.
“That’s crazy…” I muttered.
Oddly, even though the entire day was gone and I’d had what seemed like half an hour of a flurry of activity, I felt well-rested. I arched my back and moved around a bit, stretching like I would have after waking from a good night’s sleep.
I hadn’t technically slept, but the info I had gotten from the angels was as satisfying as a full day of shut-eye.
“What else did they tell you after I left?” Creed asked.
“I asked Yescha about the light and about what that vampire said last night.” Only last night—it felt like an eon already. “And I asked about the Crossroads. I didn’t get many answers on that score, but at least I was able to get some reassurance that I’m not gonna snuff it based on being a light-wielder alone.”
Three Times Burned: A Paranormal Fantasy (Remington Hart Book 3) Page 4