Soul Betrayer

by Allyson Lindt

  She tugged Izzy to his feet, gently but leaving no room for argument. “We can’t. We need to do something else, instead.”

  He wanted to resist as she half-dragged him from the building, but too much of him knew it didn’t matter. They cleared the building and paused. She turned back to face the warehouse. From the outside it was like all the others—worn, boxy, and sitting along the edge of the water.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. She raised a hand, and a giant wave climbed from the ocean. It was focused, as if it had been sliced from the water. It crashed down over the building, and then receded, taking remnants of aluminum, steel, wood, and broken generators.

  Izzy couldn’t think about what else was in there. He’d rather focus on the fact Tia shouldn’t have been powerful enough or skilled enough to wipe out a single building without touching any of those around it.

  They sank onto a nearby curb. Why did making the right decisions have to hurt so much?

  Tia leaned her head on his shoulder, voice soft. “I’m calling Ronnie. Do you have any complaints this time?”

  Izzy fished his phone out of his pocket, careful not to jostle her. At least it was still intact. He had no idea how, but there it was. He handed it over without another word.

  Chapter Ten

  The atmosphere in Ronnie’s office shifted, and she jerked her head up. Jasmine and ozone filled her nostrils, and a tall, blonde angel appeared in the middle of the room, wearing a tutu, leggings, and denim jacket.

  “I thought you’d be taller. This is a good look for you.” Abaddon’s voice wavered, and she swayed on her feet before righting herself.

  Ronnie would be envious of the clothes, if she weren’t furious at Abaddon—who glowed a lot more faintly than Ronnie expected for someone who had pulled the stunts she did last night. It didn’t matter. Swords materializing with the slightest thought, Ronnie was on her feet in an instant and pressing the tip of the shorter blade to Abaddon’s throat.

  She couldn’t hide her surprise when Irdu charged Abaddon from behind, a dagger of his own pressed to her back. No one but originals could summon weapons. It took immense power. She’d worry later about how he’d done it.

  Abaddon held her hands up, palms out. “I surrender, and your people are safe.”

  Ronnie didn’t know if the appearance of weakness was the truth or a feint, but she wasn’t taking any chances. She finally had control of something. Safe. Was that both Tia and Izzy?

  “What did you do?” Irdu growled.

  “Your demon friend will tell you. Tiamet, right? Keep an eye on her and tell her again, I’m sorry. Izrafel is fine, too. They’re in Boston.” Abaddon fished a piece of paper from the breast pocket of her jacket, and held it up between two fingers.

  Relief flooded Ronnie. Her cellphone rang, jarring her, and Abaddon faded from sight. It took her several seconds longer than it should have to vanish completely

  Irdu snatched the card from the air before it could hit the ground, and disappeared. Fuck.

  Ronnie extended her senses through the building. Both auras were gone. Her weapons dissolved into piles of glitter at her feet, and then disappeared as she dove for her phone. “Hello?”

  “It’s me.” Tia sounded exhausted. “Can you come... Never mind. Irdu is here. How did you find us?” her question was muffled, as if she’d covered the receiver.

  “Tia.” Ronnie shouted, panic leaking into her voice. “Give me an address?”

  “What? Oh yeah.” Tia rattled off the information. “See you soon.”

  The line went dead. Ronnie let relief trickle in, and tried to ignore the hurt from Irdu leaving without her. If this was the extent of the request and there was no babbling, Tia and Izzy were probably okay, and Holden should be with them. Though, if he was behind this, he’d suffer.

  Moments later, Ronnie sat with Tia and Izzy at a coffee shop by the harbor. Irdu stood behind Tia, arms crossed and scowl etched onto his face.

  Tia kept rubbing her wrists, though she didn’t sport any injuries, and Izzy wouldn’t look at Ronnie. He hadn’t spoken since she found them here, wearing torn clothing torn and matching looks of exhaustion.

  Ronnie had ordered them coffee and snacks. It was the only thing she could think of to do, given her lack of information. Guilt and frustration warred inside. She was trying hard not to push for answers, allowing them time to think. At the same time, her emotion clogged her senses. Where was Holden. What happened? Why was Abaddon involved?

  Once again, she hadn’t been able to help. The feeling of powerlessness was the same as it had been with Ariel, when Michael had to step in and save her. Ronnie wasn’t able to stop the angel as Ari destroyed the city.

  The reminder of both added to the void growing inside. Missing Michael. Hating the conflicting memories of Ari’s friendship and betrayal. Two of the only people she’d trusted, both turned against her in their own way.

  That wasn’t a great place to linger, but trying to shift her thoughts led her to Gabe. She still had no idea how she survived the fight with him. And now she’d sat in her office, looking at a fucking computer screen, while Tia and Izzy went through what her imagination told her was an Inferno-like ordeal.

  “So, I...” Tia traced the scratches on the plastic table. Unlike Abaddon, who looked about to burn out in Ronnie’s office, she glowed violent and blue against the sunrise. “I destroyed the place. Water. A big wave of it. I don’t think anyone saw, but I wasn’t paying attention.”

  Ronnie wanted to grab the information and dig out everything else she could. That kind of power... With what Irdu did to Abaddon, she had a whole new set of questions on top of everything else. Those would wait, though.

  She didn’t want to stop the conversation as it started, and settled for, “What place?”

  Izzy shook his head, and then buried his face in his arms.

  “It was a warehouse.” Tia squeezed his arm. “Run by agents. They... um... They had these bracelets.” She massaged her wrists again. “I wasn’t the only demon there. They bound us from using our power. Like out of a freaking science fiction movie. They wanted Izzy’s friend because he could see things, I guess? It didn’t make any sense. The humans wanted to figure out how to be more powerful. Like, we were their lab rats. And Abbie was there. She was furious they had other angels and demons. She killed every human there, except Izzy.”

  Holy shit. Ronnie’s gut churned at the idea of so much death. “But the agents lived?”

  Tia shrugged. “Those who were still alive when Abbie went full-blown Terminator.

  The table vibrated, and Ronnie realized Izzy was shaking. This didn’t have anything to do with humans, the way Lucifer thought, and that was impressive considering his ability to see conspiracies in everything. She didn’t want to ask her next question. She had an idea, but it needed to be spelled out. “Holden?”

  Izzy made a sound like a bark, jerked back from his seat, and paced several feet away.

  Ambivalence filled Ronnie. She hated to see Izzy in pain, but if Holden was in on this entire thing...

  Tia swallowed. “Someone shot me, to see how much the bracelets were restricting me. Have you ever been shot? It fucking hurts. Holden tackled them. Someone fried him. There was so much chaos, I don’t know who. I just...” She sobbed.

  Fuck. Nausea rolled through Ronnie. Angels and demons attacking each other, and prophets. Why?

  Irdu crouched next to Tia and she fell into his embrace. The daggers he glared at Ronnie cut through her as much as Tia and Izzy’s distress.

  “This is what happens when you keep secrets,” he growled.

  That wasn’t fair. Ronnie wanted to argue this was what happened when humans were assholes. Something told her that wouldn’t go over well.

  She kept her mouth shut, jaw clenched tight, until Tia’s crying became small hiccups for air.

  “Are you all right now?” Ronnie asked softly.

  “Abbie helped me.”

  Any other day, Ronnie would correct he
r and point out Abaddon hated that name. “But what about you?”

  “I’m alive.” Tia shrugged.

  That was something Ronnie couldn’t be grateful enough for. Even without Irdu, she wouldn’t have forgiven herself if something happened to Tia.

  Ronnie pushed back from the table and approached Izzy. He stepped out of reach as she drew closer. “Don’t.” A sharp warning ran through his words.

  “I’m—”

  “I said, don’t.” He spoke through clenched teeth, his gaze frozen on the ocean. “Give me time and space. I don’t want to say anything I’ll regret, and trust me, you don’t want to hear it. Leave us here. Go back to work.”

  “How are you going to get home?”

  “Home was torched and then flooded. The man I love was killed by a psychotic fucking agent of heaven. This is the second time my apartment’s been blown up since I met you. I know you’re not to blame, but you’re always here, and no one else is around for me to yell at. So leave me here. I’ll find my own way home. Give. Me. Space.”

  “I’ve got them.” Irdu’s cold words hit her back. “Go back to the office. We’re fine without you here.”

  “Yeah.” Ronnie couldn’t make this better. She couldn’t take it back. She didn’t even know where to start with an apology. She blinked away from the group, impotence, and grief on their behalf clouding her thoughts.

  Chapter Eleven

  Michael rolled from under the Datsun station wagon, and dragged the back of his arm across his forehead. He felt the smear of grease take the place of sweat.

  When he did restorations in bigger towns, he rented garage space with a pit, hydraulic lifts—the works. This was a remote location in northern California, with a population of a couple thousand at the most. He didn’t mind driving the beater up onto ramps and using a creeper to get underneath, if it meant having his latest project towed to a local shop and lease one of their bays.

  He’d restored cars off and on for a couple of decades, but dove into it full-force after his time with Ronnie. There was that name again, clenching in his chest. The memories that flooded him overlapped his surroundings, the scent of flowers mingling with motor oil, and the taste of strawberry waffles teasing his tongue and dancing with grime.

  He shuffled to a nearby sink, to wash away the dirt. Phasing would get rid of it all, but this was about the tactile experience. Every step of the way, from finding an old car for under five thousand dollars, to breathing new life into it to make it good as new, and then giving it to a deserving person.

  Surrounding himself with so many sensations made it easier to block out memories of her.

  The water grew warmer as it spilled from the faucet, over his hands, and into the basin below. Usually this helped him achieve an almost meditative state, but today his mind still wandered. If he pushed it beyond Ronnie, it drifted to Azazel. He had no leads on where the demon was nor any idea where to look next. His resources for new leads were tapped. Not even Abaddon had anything for him.

  “Damn it.” He jerked his hands out from under the water when it scalded him. I need to pay attention.

  He forced himself to be back in the now, and slid behind the wheel of the car. He smiled when the engine rolled over and kicked to life, purring like large cat. The mechanical work was done. Next up—installing replacement seats, which he custom ordered, fixing the side panels, and then painting it. For now, he backed it off the stands. It would sit in the lot out back until he was ready for it again. He cleaned up his rented space and stripped off his coveralls before wandering into the front office, to tell the guys he was done.

  Voices, almost shouting, floated out to meet him.

  “No, dude. Play it again.”

  “I’m working on it. It’s dog-ass slow.”

  Michael frowned.

  “I’m telling you. Act of God, man.”

  “No. Way. Something like that? Fucking wizard.”

  “That’s stupid. Wizards don’t exist.”

  “Giant wave of water—”

  Meant an agent. And if it made news, one who was doing something they shouldn’t’ be. Michael’s threatening tension snapped and cranked several notches, and he increased his pace. He found Rob and Carl, the brothers who owned the place, hunched over a laptop.

  “Anything interesting?” Michael wasn’t sure he wanted to know, but he needed to.

  “Dude. You gotta see this.” Rob stepped back and gestured to the screen.

  Michael watched the shaky U-View video. Camera phone? Voices in the background directed the action, and the shot swung toward a warehouse. Unlike most of the other buildings in the clip, its windows were intact. The bricks clean. As if it were the only inhabited spot on the block. Smoke spilled from upstairs, and a rush of flames exploded from the top story.

  Too many voices overlapped in the video, to tell how many people were watching.

  “The fuck?”

  “Check it out.”

  “Why is the ground shaking?”

  Then he saw what the fuss was about. A huge wave rose from the water and crashed over the single building. Splashes hit the neighbors, a few drops landed on the lens filming, but it was controlled and precise otherwise.

  Every foul word, in every language he’d ever spoken, spilled through Michael’s head. If there were another Ariel out there, destroying and paying no mind to public scrutiny, there was a good chance they didn’t care about human casualty, either. Michael needed to put a stop to that.

  “What do you think it was?” Carl asked. “Act of God, right?”

  “Definitely not. I need to make a call.”

  “Whatever.” Rob stepped back into his spot and slapped Carl on the back. “Play it again.”

  Michael’s neck was tight as he strode from the building. His next cherub-laden agent was leaving a trail. Something to be grateful for, right? Why hadn’t Ubiquity pulled that video? U-View was their subsidiary.

  His fingers itched at his side, as he debated calling the corporate office to find out what was going on over there. No. He didn’t agree with Ubiquity when it was created, and the brief time he’d worked there, he saw Gabriel and Lucifer used it more as a red-tape machine than to help humanity. Their mess, their solutions. His decision had nothing to do with needing to resist the temptation to talk Ronnie. She was the only person there who might take his call.

  Instead, he pulled up Abaddon’s number. She must know something. If the video went viral, everyone had heard about it by now.

  “Hey.” Her exhaustion bled over the line.

  He frowned. “Are you all right?”

  “Really tired. I’ll be good with some rest. What’s up?”

  “What do you know about Boston?”

  “It’s a big-ass city on the harbor.” An irritated edge lined her question. Or that was defensiveness?

  Michael was never great at telling the difference. “There’s a video circulating, and I was hoping you had the inside scoop on who was there.”

  “It’s not the kind of thing that will help your cause.” Definitely defensiveness.

  “So you do know.”

  “I can’t...” She sighed. “If I give you a different name, will you drop it?”

  His tension grew. “It doesn’t work that way. I don’t work that way.”

  “There’s a café in Moscow. East of Red Square, gorgeous view of the Kremlin. Be there at six in the evening local time, two days from now. And try and keep in mind what I said about the pleasant approach.”

  “Abaddon—”

  “I’m not your personal Rolodex. This is what you get.” With that, the line went dead.

  Michael snarled at his phone, pocketed it, and then rolled his neck.

  “Hey. Wait up.” Rob’s voice and the slap of sneakers on pavement drew Michael’s attention. He turned as the man came to a stop, and held up a piece of paper. “A guy was looking for you while you were under. Asked me to give you this.”

  “Are you sure it’s for me?” No one kne
w Michael was in Springfield except the local people he’d met, and they didn’t know specifically when he was in town. He tended to blink in and out as his schedule allowed.

  Rob extended the note closer. “It’s got your name on it.”

  So it did. “Thank you.” Michael furrowed his brow as he unfolded the lined paper. Handwritten in block letters across the middle of the sheet, it read, Surprise. He looked back at Rob. “What did he look like?”

  “Wasn’t paying attention. See you around, man.”

  Michael felt the change in the air, as if all the heat fled toward the building and a chill rushed in to replace it. His instincts kicked in and he shifted to an ethereal form before he registered what the disruption meant. Flame erupted from the garage and roared onto the street. In this state, Michael couldn’t feel, hear, or see any of it. His ethereal form removed all physical senses, and left him with a grayscale interpretation of the world around him. His brain told him it was an inferno, and for one of the few times in his existence, he was grateful for the loss of his senses.

  Fire swept in and incinerated everything in its focused path—another alarm to the jangling mess in his head. The explosion was concentrated on the building. Horror sank in, clenching his mind and stalling his thoughts, as Rob vanished in the heat so quickly, he didn’t have time to scream.

  In the seconds it took for Michael to process everything and focus enough to draw the heat from the air and dissipate the fire, everything was consumed—the garage, the brothers—leaving shadows of ash and melted, twisted piles of steel in their place.

  Grief choked him worse than the lingering smoke. Agony for the lives lost. It surged inside, hotter than the fire, and stole his reason, until all he could think about was the loss of life. The tragedy smoldering in front of him.

  He grasped for a sense of calm, clawing through disbelief and sorrow. Alarms blared, jarring him back to the now.

  He didn’t know any agent with this kind of control over flame, outside of an original. And he knew nobody with such a desire for baseless destruction.