The wave of sulfur and the putrid stench of the dead hit us first. It was thick and pungent, inhuman—the smell of hundreds of corpses rotting in the sun for weeks.
“Happy Hunting,” I shouted.
And then they came.
Tyrius the black panther let loose a bone-chilling roar that should have split the air, but it was barely audible over the hissing and growling of the mass of demons.
Tyrius attacked first. His yellow eyes blazed with profound hatred as he crouched low and hauled himself at the closest demon, inciting shrieks of pain, tendons tearing, and bones cracking. Fresh-spilled black blood rushed back and forth across the graveyard ground until it looked like it was raining demon blood.
In a flash of white, Lance joined him. The demons nearest him tried to rush forward for the kill, but Lance hurled himself into a killing frenzy, ripping and tearing into the demon flesh like paper and leaving nothing but a scattered pile of twitching parts of the first demons. Damn. He was good.
But I didn’t have time to admire the dog angel as the mass of demons rushed me—a solid line of demons just waiting to devour our faces. Nice. Some of them charged forward, crazed by the need to kill.
The nearest demon attacked with surprising speed. I ducked and spun, coming back up with my blade sliding into its gut. A black gush of its blood drenched the ground and my arm, and then it exploded into a cloud of gray ash.
I had a mere second before another demon hit me, and I looked up, only to find Gareth flinging his arms as red, blue and yellow elf dust fell around him. He let a handful of red elf dust fly. It hit a demon, causing it to convulse and its fleshy gray body to tremble before it collapsed.
A shadow came at me.
Whirling on instinct, I threw out my blade, grunting to give it strength. It hit something solid. I yanked it out of the horned demon’s skull just as another came at me.
“Angel blood,” said the demon in barely audible words. Yes, I knew all about the power that angel essence contained. And I knew the blood of an angel was equal to the blood of a hundred mortals. I was a prize. I might die tonight, but I wasn’t going to make it easy on them.
I twisted my blade in my hand as I rushed forward and slit the demon’s throat. Its mouth moved, spewing sounds unintelligently, and then slumped to the ground, bursting into a cloud of ash.
Something hard hit me and I went sprawling. I screamed as a demon with skin the color of chalk fell on me, pinning me on my back as I kicked out with my legs and struggled to wiggle out. Fear slid into me as I rocked my body. Its breath was hot and foul, and a forked tongue hung from its maw. Its eyes shone with desire to eat me.
I bucked with all my strength, and I was surprised to feel a moment of release. I took it. Rolling, I shot to my feet and smashed my boot straight down onto its skull, driving its head down to the ground. And then I stabbed it through the eye for good measure. I would never have been able to push it off me as a mortal. My angel-ass just saved me.
My moment of triumph evaporated as another monster rushed at me. I sidestepped, lunged, and grazed its neck with my soul blade.
With a flash of brown, another demon hurled itself at me. It hit me in a blur of teeth and claws and fur. It looked like a grizzly bear that took a shower in acid. Half of its body was covered in thick brown fur, and the other half was red, raw flesh. I leaped to the side and only avoided being squished by a hair.
It was huge. Damn, it was enormous. And it wanted to eat me. Great.
“Guess the zoo didn’t want you either, eh?” I said as I positioned myself in a fighting stance.
The earth shook, literally, as the bear demon tore the ground with its claws and came thrashing at me with impossible speed for its size. I sidestepped to avoid the slashing of claws and heard a roar of frustration as the demon missed.
“Better luck next time.” Tension spiked through me, but it was a strange thing to be jumping around without the need for a breath or the feel of adrenaline. I would never get used to that. I missed my sweet, sweet adrenaline.
Pain shot up my arm and I fell back. White light emitted from a large gap in my arm, my angel flesh. The damn bear had sliced my arm open, almost to the bone. My angel essence dripped to the ground, inciting a roar of approval from the watching demons. It was like I’d called all the demons to me.
I felt it as their attention focused on only me now. My angel blood called out to them.
“Shit.”
The bear charged again. A giant, fleshy paw slammed into me and I rocked back, dizzy. The demon bear whirled, its black eyes wild and full of hatred.
Fear ignited in my mind. This was a mighty opponent. Without my angel speed, I would be dead right about now. The essence from my cut sprayed around me, dripping down my hand to the ground in silvery-white droplets.
The demon bear closed in for the kill. It hit me from the side and clung to me, its maw snapping as we crashed to the ground. Agony shot through my chest as the demon’s claws jabbed through my soft skin. Shit. It was going to shred me into little angel bits.
I couldn’t die like this, not for the second time tonight, and especially not on my back.
Willing all my strength, I brought my soul blade towards my chin and jammed it straight into the demon’s open mouth. The creature hissed and let go, falling back on its haunches.
I never stopped moving. I bounded forward, yanked my soul blade from its maw, and sliced it across the neck. Then I made an upward strike across its large chest. The demon crashed to the floor and thrashed… and then it was still. A tide of stinking demon guts poured across the ground.
Far to the left, Tyrius battled with a winged demon. The panther moved fast, matching the other demon in both speed and agility. A long laceration marred Tyrius’s back, swelling with blood.
Beyond the line of shambling demons, I saw Gareth, exhausted and bleeding from a dozen places. He’d lost his hat, his wild hair flying as he leaped and spun, and his hands were a blur. Gareth ducked and hurled some elf dust into the gaping mouth of the demon. It shivered and exploded.
There was no sign of Lance.
I hauled myself across the graveyard. I could see the stain on my T-shirt, a mix of white essence and the splatter of black demon blood. This body wouldn’t last much longer.
In less than five minutes, the split in the earth had let out thousands of demons. And they just kept on coming. It was looking like a bad night for the home team.
This was madness. It had to stop. I could barely think beyond the instincts of driving my blade into demon flesh to stay alive.
Still, there was a thought. One. It wasn’t a gut feeling. I had no more guts. Well, not real ones. It was instinct. Something inside me told me to do it. That I’d never get another chance.
And so I did.
27
I dashed clumsily around the line of demons, holding my middle with my free hand so that my angel guts would stay in place. Demons threw themselves at me, and I ducked, spun, fell to the ground, rolled, and leaped to my feet. I launched myself towards the sky-high green flames.
I wasn’t stupid. I wasn’t going to throw myself against the burning flames. I saw what they did to Jenna.
Legs pumping with angel speed, I made my way around the split in the earth. The air thrummed with energy and power as I came up on the other side of Lucian’s wards, right into his ceremonial circle. The wards were down, but I still felt something close behind me, like a door.
I spun around, expecting to have a few demons follow me, but I was met with only sad-looking tombstones and shadows. The sounds of hissing and writhing bodies reached me, a bloodcurdling chorus of battle cries. I heard the unmistakable cry of pain, and then a howl, rapidly growing louder in pitch and volume causing my body to tremble with a mix of panic and rage. Tyrius. Something was happening to him. Dear souls.
“Ahh, Rowyn,” Lucian said as if greeting a favorite pet, and I turned my attention towards him. “I was wondering when you’d show up. A bit late to the pa
rty though. Tell me, you and your friends weren’t planning on crashing my party. Were you?” he mocked.
“Bite me, asshat.”
The archdemon stood across from me. Dizzy, I stifled the panic that crawled inside me. This angel body had run its course. I could see the Holy Grail, sitting atop the monument next to Lucian, just waiting for me to grab it. But there was one problem. How did I save Layla with it? Jenna was supposed to do it, and the idiot angel had gotten herself killed. Swell.
My eyes found Layla. She lay on her side on the ground, right next to the monument. Her skin was white as snow, and her lips were corpse gray. She looked dead, and yet I knew she wasn’t. Call it my angel intuition, but somehow I knew she was alive. And that filled me with hope.
Lucian’s red eyes rolled over me slowly. “An angel. How unimaginative. And yet, how fitting.” He took a drag from his cigarette and blew out a ring of smoke.
“You knew. Didn’t you?”
“Of course I knew,” he said, smoke curling around his words. “Who do you think you’re talking to? I practically invented the Legion. I know how they think. How they operate. I knew they’d make you an angel.”
“A dark angel.”
He lifted his hands in mock surrender. “Excuse me. A dark angel.”
Holding my middle, I looked at the wards painted on the gravestones. “And these?”
“All specifically tuned to you, dearest. You couldn’t get through. Not until my ritual was complete. I couldn’t have you interrupt my ritual. Now could I? That would be clumsy of me.”
“That’s not the word I’d use.”
Lucian’s red eyes flashed. “You were always an angel, through and through. Weren’t you, Rowyn? Yes, you did some very bad things—one could even label them as downright evil—but you were just not bad enough for me.”
“Well, whoop-de-freakin-doo.” I didn’t like the way he was watching me, with the attitude of a man holding a gun to my head. “What did you do to Layla?”
The archdemon smiled like a madman. “I bled her, of course. She’s served her true purpose, what she was meant to do. To be.”
That sounded a hell of a lot like what the oracle said to me, and I stifled a shiver. “You sick bastard. She didn’t deserve this.” I pointed my soul blade at him, but it was pointless. My hand shook with just the effort of holding the blade. I had no strength left.
Lucian tsked. “Rowyn, Rowyn, Rowyn. If you’re going to point the blame at anyone, you should be blaming yourself. If only you had accepted my gift,” he smiled, “she would still be alive.”
I took a shaky step forward, planting my boots in the soft earth so I wouldn’t tip over from the sudden wave of dizziness. “Don’t you dare pin this on me, you freak. I only tried to protect her from you.”
“And you did such a wonderful job,” he taunted and flicked his cigarette butt on the ground. And then the bastard actually clapped. “You should ask the Legion for a raise. You are workforce quality.” He laughed and pulled another cigarette from his case. He lit his cigarette and moved towards Layla. I had a full view of his back. No wings.
I gave him a once over. “Why didn’t you tell me it was a costume party? I would have worn my French maid outfit.”
Lucian turned to face me fully, his eyebrows high. “The only one who’s wearing an outfit is you,” he intoned, his eyes flicking over me and filled with indulgent amusement. “Though I’ll never understand why angels choose to wear these monkey suits. Not very hygienic. Is it?” He sucked on his cigarette. “Just look at you. You’re spilling out your angel innards all over the ground. You’re dying. It’ll all be over soon.”
I hated this red-eyed bastard. “I don’t see any wings,” I said, my voice shaking with fear and rage. “What happened? Did you screw up? Is that why there’s a giant hole in the ground and you’re wingless?”
“Wings?” exclaimed the archdemon, smoke billowing from his mouth. “Why would I want my wings back? They’d clash with my suit,” he added, grinning evilly.
My lips parted and I froze. “Isn’t all this,” I waved my blade around, sticky with my angel essence, “for the ritual to get your damn wings back?” What the hell was going on?
“Of course not,” laughed the archdemon. He regarded me with a faint smile like I was dim-witted. “What on earth gave you that idea?”
“Angels. Oracles. Everyone.”
Lucian let the information sink in. He blew tunnels of smoke through his nostrils and said, “And why, pray tell, did they say I would want my wings back?”
I felt like an idiot. Either the Legion was way off or Lucian was full of shit and just filling me with lies to throw me off.
“To enter Horizon?” I answered. “To rise again? To get your throne back? How the hell should I know?” I attempted to blink away the white and black spots that marred my vision. Oh hell. I was going to either pass out or die. It took every bit of effort I had left to stay standing.
“And you believed them?” asked the archdemon, smoke coiling around his mouth. “Why would I ever want to return to the place where I was shunned? Cast out because I refused to let a monkey-filled world dictate my future? They wanted us to venerate mortals. Michael and the rest of the archangels tried to kill me but couldn’t, so what did they do? They tore off my wings and threw me in a cage I could never escape. But the Netherworld was never a cage. It was my salvation. I am its creator.” Lucian smiled and raised his arms. “The answer is simple. I wouldn’t.”
“I… don’t… understand.” My body felt like I was standing in a freezer. My head seemed to explode with just the effort to speak. My knees gave out and I fell.
“Dear little Rowyn,” said the archdemon, looking down at me. “I’ll let you in on a secret since… well… you’re dying and all. The thing with the Legion… they don’t care about you. Angels are disposable. One dies and is easily replaceable. But the mortal world, well, it will always come first. Mortals will always have more importance to the Legion than their own kind. It’s laughable, really. And who came up with this bright idea? God? I don’t know. But it’s weak. And I’ll never be part of something weak and meaningless.”
“And what… you’re doing isn’t?” I rasped, weakly, a moment later.
Lucian turned his gaze to the green flames that continued to pour out from the giant hole in the ground. “You want to know what my plan is?”
I nodded. “Sure.” What the hell, I wasn’t going to last long, and I was curious.
“It was never about regaining my wings or my place in Horizon,” said the archdemon. He looked over his shoulder at me, like he was making sure he had my full attention, for the full effect of what he was about to say. “There’s nothing there but hopeless emptiness,” he continued and then turned back around to look at the flames. “I needed you for my plan. But as you know, things don’t always go as planned. Layla was an excellent spare.”
“To get… the Grail,” I said, hauling myself to a sitting position, still holding my middle with my free arm. God, that was embarrassing.
“Very good, Rowyn,” said Lucian, as though speaking to a five-year-old child. “You’re a bright young woman for such a stupid angel. I needed the Holy Grail. I needed its immeasurable power. Not for my wings, but something else. Something better. Something that has taken me eight hundred and fifty-three years of careful and meticulous planning.” He took a draw from his cigarette and said, “I give you… the apocalypse.”
Ah, hell. Why did things always take a turn for the worst?
The archdemon looked at me, his smile widening at what he saw on my face. “The complete and utter destruction of the mortal world. The Holy Grail was the key to unlock the doors to the Netherworld and let my children out. No longer will we be kept in our cages. A great darkness will spread, the oceans will turn red, the forests will burn, the skies will turn black and the sun will never be seen again. Demons will walk the earth. It is the end of the mortal world as you know it. It’s a shame you won’t be around to
see it.”
“Why?”
A hint of devilry was in his voice as he said, “Did you really think the archangels could do all this to me and there’d be no payback?” He grimaced, as if he’d eaten something sour. Sighing, he flicked his cigarette butt.
“But why… the mortals? They did… nothing… to you.”
“Because, dearest,” said the archdemon. “Without the mortals where does that leave the Legion? Empty. Lots and lots of irate and angry angels with nothing to do. Desolate. Soon they’ll fight each other. It’s inevitable. Then, there’ll be a great war between them. They’ll kill each other off. It’ll be great.” He opened his metal case and put another cigarette to his mouth.
“I… shouldn’t… even be here.” Tyrius was right. I should have refused this gig.
“The world will be at peace,” he added conversationally, his cigarette hanging on his lip. “All the mortals will die. And then I’ll get my show back on the road. I have a reputation to uphold. As the God of the Netherworld and all that.”
I pressed my left hand into the dirt, trying to balance myself upright. “The Legion… will…”
“What? Stop me?” laughed the archdemon. “Look around you, Rowyn. They can’t. It’s too late. It won’t be long now. In a few moments, the doorway will be open forever. It will be a forever doorway to the Netherworld. A tunnel, a connection between the two worlds.” He smiled and turned away, his focus on the tall green flames, on the outpour of demons. “My apocalypse has already begun. They lack the power to stop it.”
I couldn’t stop shaking. My skin was like ice as I abruptly realized that all his claims of domination and death were going to happen. His demons were going to kill everyone I cared about. My gran, Gareth, Danto, Father Thomas, Pam, even Jax and the rest of his rich, stuck-up clan. They didn’t deserve to die. Not like this.
The Legion couldn’t stop him. They weren’t prepared for this. They didn’t even know he’d used the Holy Grail to open a doorway to let his minions out. They were probably still waiting for Jenna to report back while they prepared their armies in Horizon. The Legion had no idea.
Dark Angel Page 43