Dark Angel

by Kim Richardson

  And by the time they did realize something was wrong, it would be too late.

  My eyes found the smug archdemon, watching his creation with that glorified look all madmen shared after one of their kills. The problem with most celestial beings, albeit an archdemon in this case, was that they get too used to thinking they’re all-powerful, and it made their heads swell. I could use that.

  “I want to be… with Layla,” I grunted in pain, and I pulled myself forward on the ground.

  “Good idea.” Lucian barely glanced at me as I dragged my ass over to her, leaving a trail of white essence behind. When I reached Layla, I could see that her life-force was barely holding on. She had but a few minutes left of life. Maybe less.

  Damn you, Lucian.

  I didn’t know how I managed, but I reached up and grabbed the edges of the granite monument and pulled myself up. Using it as a support, I stood, the Holy Grail within my reach.

  My vision blurred. I waited for it to clear as the golden cup glimmered in the light of the candles.

  And then I reached out and wrapped my hand around the celestial cup.

  The cup’s metal was warm against my cool skin. The warmth coated my bloody palm. It pulsed, like the beating of a heart, as though the cup itself was alive. Power, magic, whatever you want to call it, surged from the cup. It flowed into my palm and through my body, bonding with my essence and my soul. The power grew and suffused with my essence, filling me with renewed strength, borrowed from the cup.

  I couldn’t run a marathon, and I couldn’t physically kick Lucian’s ass, but it was enough for what I was about to do.

  Lucian must have sensed something because at that moment, he turned around. The archangel snarled when he saw me standing with the Holy Grail in my hand.

  His eyes moved from me to Layla. “The Holy Grail can’t save her,” he said, looking at me again. “It’s over.”

  I nodded. “I know.” The energy of the Grail spread through me, lending me the strength I needed, like it knew the exact amount to give me.

  My eyes fell to my sister. Layla was dead or dying. The mortal world would soon follow.

  Lance’s words about the Holy Grail came to me again. It can heal, just as it can easily destroy.

  “You’re right. It is over. It’s over for you,” I said.

  And then I did the only thing I could think of.

  With a burst of strength, I tossed the Holy Grail in the air. It streaked across the graveyard. I watched it spin like a golden baseball as it soared over Lucian and then plummeted down through the green flames and disappeared into the hole in the earth.

  Lucian’s expression twisted with disgust, and then surprise, and then realization. “No.” The cigarette in his mouth fell to the ground.

  The impact broke the world. Or that’s what it felt like.

  A wind came rushing forth, trees ripping from the ground with the force of it like an angry howl, enormous and omnipresent. Then there was a deafening crack of thunder. The green flames were sucked back into the gap in the ground, the earth pulling itself closed, rock and earth and dirt, trapping the demons back inside the Netherworld.

  A shape moved before my eyes. Lucian grabbed me by the neck, his face twisted in fury, and I heard something snap. I didn’t feel anything. That final burst of energy had taken everything I had left. I was empty.

  He tossed me on the ground like a ragdoll. I lay there on my back staring at the black sky. The green light faded. Darkness was coming.

  I wished I had enough strength to reach Layla, to hold her hand as we both died. I wished I could cry for both of us. I wished a lot of things.

  The last of the earth settled, and then the world went dark.

  28

  The sun rose and a light blinked on the horizon. It shone like a star, though stars didn’t become bigger and bigger unless it was a shooting star coming straight for me.

  The light increased as it approached until it was right above me. I blinked, and a woman stood where the light had been.

  Asian-looking and beautiful, the woman was draped in white linen, the cloth radiating with dazzling white light. Soft red highlights reflected off the jet-black hair that spilled all the way down her back, so thick and glorious it would have had women envious. Her face had a haunting, ethereal beauty, and her expression was serene, with dark piercing eyes.

  If I was staring at a strange woman, it meant I wasn’t dead, dead. But how could that be? Lucian had killed me… hadn’t he?

  When I realized I was still lying on my back, I pushed myself up and looked around. I was in the same graveyard, but it was daylight. Something was off. There were no signs of battle, no visible demon bodies or ashes. The leaves on the trees didn’t move. There was no wind. And where there should have been the happy chirping of birds was only a wall of stillness and silence. Everything around me was still, like a picture or a painting.

  “This isn’t Horizon?” I asked the strange woman.

  She looked at me, and her perfect face melted into a brilliant smile. “No. This is the in-between. A place between Horizon and Earth, where time stands still.”

  Creepy. “Who are you?”

  “My name is Raphael.”

  Why did that name sound so familiar? My eyes searched her face. A golden shield crisscrossed with two silver swords marked her forehead. Holy crap.

  “You’re an archangel,” I felt myself smile. “The healer.” If I had to pick which archangel to ever meet in a face-to-face encounter, she would have been it. Yes, she was an amazon-looking-warrior-chick and could probably kick Lucian’s ass blindfolded, but she was a healer first and foremost.

  The archangel Raphael beamed watching me, her dark eyes bright. “That’s right.”

  Memories washed over me, dozens of little things, all coming back to me all at once—Lucian, the Holy Grail, the hole in the world, and me tossing the cup into it… and Layla.

  I whirled around. Layla lay at the exact same spot. “Is she dead?”

  “No,” answered the archangel. “Merely sleeping for now. She’ll be fine.”

  “You healed her?” I asked. The skin on her wrists was smooth, no evidence of were Lucian had cut her, no blood.

  “Yes.”

  “What about her mark? The oracle and I made a deal.”

  She arched a brow but said nothing, so I pressed on. “Okay, I sorta didn’t bring the Grail back. I think I may have accidentally destroyed it; my bad. But I think I managed to stop Lucian’s apocalypse.”

  Raphael never stopped smiling. “Have a look.”

  I did. I leaned over Layla, and my eyes moved to her neck, to the P-shaped birthmark—the archangel Michael’s sigil. So, the Legion had kept their word after all. The sigil was like a protection ward. She’d be protected from Lucian or any other archdemon bastard who tried to infuse her with their power. She was safe. Thank the souls.

  “I’m sorry I destroyed your cup,” I said, looking back at the tall woman. “It was an accident.” Technically, that was a big fat lie. It wasn’t an accident at all. I’d meant to throw it. The fact that it exploded like a high-tech bomb was an afterthought.

  “Don’t be,” said Raphael, her voice gentle and patient. “Without its destruction, you wouldn’t have been able to seal the Hellmouth.”

  “Nice. Is that what the giant hole was?” Even the name was creepy, let alone the nasties that were spewing out of it.

  “Yes.” Raphael nodded soberly. “A Hellmouth is a permanent doorway to the Netherworld—unlike a Hellgate or a Rift, which are temporary gates. The Holy Grail held the power to close the Hellmouth, to seal it permanently.”

  I wanted to smile back, but I couldn’t. “What happened to Lucian?”

  Raphael’s perfect features scrunched into a frown. “Hiding. Licking his wounds. Back in the Netherworld where he belongs.”

  “Smoking a thousand cigarettes. He won’t stop you know. He’ll be back with something new.”

  “Yes.” The archangel pursed her
lips, and her expression grew distant. “And we’ll be waiting for him. Again.” Her voice sounded calm still, but I could sense the underlying tone of her own anger. There was history there. Interesting.

  “And my friends?” I asked my throat tight. “Tyrius? Gareth? Lance?” Gareth looked exhausted the last time I saw his face and Tyrius was bleeding profusely. Lance, well, I had lost sight of him.

  “They’re all fine.”

  “All of them?” I asked, my mood brightening.

  “Yes.”

  They were alive. This time my lips did try to curl into a smile. But my elation was premature. I didn’t have anything to celebrate if I was going to Horizon, separated from my friends and family, from those I loved. Granted, it could have been way worse. I could have ended up as a stripper in some demon’s club in the Netherworld.

  “You’re here to take me back. Right? To Horizon?” I asked, regret a bitter taste in my mouth.

  When Raphael smiled this time, I could see her perfectly straight teeth. “Not this time.”

  I had a little moment of panic. “If I’m not going to Horizon… then…” Oh, God. They’re sending me to the Netherworld. My lips parted and the influx of happy thoughts took on an ominous feeling.

  I shifted my weight. “But, I thought you said you were happy that I sealed the Hellmouth?”

  The archangel smiled, a gentle serenity in her eyes. “I am. We are.”

  “So why am I getting the boot to the Netherworld?”

  “You’re not,” said Raphael, her eyes drifting over my face.

  “I’m not?”

  “No.”

  I scrunched up my face, my voice low. “What’s going to happen to me?”

  Raphael moved forward, pressed her hands around my face, and then closed her eyes. Immediately, I felt a soothing warmth spread from my head to the rest of my body, as though someone had just poured a bucket of warm water over my head. The sensation turned to little pricks inside me, like tiny lightning bolts bouncing on the inside walls of my core, as though my internal battery was being recharged.

  “You’ll be a great angel someday, Rowyn,” I heard the archangel say suddenly. “But not today.”

  29

  I stared at myself in the mirror. It was the twentieth time today, but I couldn’t help it. My eyes traced the darker lines of a birthmark in the shape of the letter P on the right side of my neck. The archangel Michael’s sigil, just like Layla’s.

  My heart still thumped at the sight of it. My lovely, lovely, beating heart. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop smiling. My face would forever be cemented into a goofy grin. Hell, I didn’t even mind.

  I realized at that moment staring at the sigil on my neck would never get boring. The archangel Raphael hadn’t booted my ass to the Netherworld. No, she’d given me my life back and something I’d always wanted—though I’d never admit it—an archangel sigil, just like the other angel-borns.

  Okay, Layla and I were still different with our archdemon essence and all that, but that’s what made us unique and stronger than the average angel-born. We were both—the shadow and the light.

  I expanded my lungs and took a giant gulp of air. Could air taste good? Because right now, it did. I’d never underestimate breathing again. Breathing was awesome.

  Two weeks had passed since I blew up the Holy Grail and killed Lucian’s plans. True, it wasn’t exactly what the Legion had ordered, but I still got the job done. Yay for me.

  Whenever I thought about the fury that had twisted Lucian’s face after I tossed the cup into the Hellmouth, it brought a smile to my lips. The bastard got what he deserved. And with my new, pretty sigil, he could never hurt me. Yay for me again.

  Although we’d lost Jenna, Lance had survived the Hellmouth’s wave of demons. I hadn’t seen him, but from what I understood from the archangel Raphael, he was probably back in Horizon working on another assignment.

  Jenna had been a true Legion soldier through and through. And though she wasn’t my favorite angel in the celestial world, it was still a shame she had died. I knew she truly believed threatening to kill me had been the right thing to do. She’d done it for the greater good. She was a soldier following orders. Just like when she’d stabbed me, her actions had had a purpose.

  Jenna had followed all the rules. She was the exact opposite of me.

  My time as an angel had only lasted a few hours. And yet, I had learned a multitude of valuable information about them. It had been mind-blowing. Literally. To the point I would never think of angels the same way ever again. I’d been one, so I really couldn’t.

  All in all, apart from a few losses and the destruction of the Holy Grail, it was about the best outcome to the entire situation I could hope for.

  “Rowyn! Come quick!” I heard Layla’s voice through my grandmother’s bathroom door. “You’ve got to see this! Hurry!”

  With a last look in the mirror, I pulled open the bathroom door expecting to see Layla, but all I saw was an empty foyer and hallway. No one was there.

  “Layla?” The smell of cooking wafted from the kitchen down the hall and my stomach rumbled. God, I was starving. I could hear a hiss of something cooking in the background with the soft clink of glasses and the murmur of singing. Grandma was cooking up a storm again. I was so spoiled.

  “Upstairs!” Layla called back.

  “What’s upstairs?” I yelled out to her, the kitchen calling out to me with all its delicious smells. The scent of chili reached me. Gran was making her famous veggie chili. Yum. Was that garlic bread I smelled?

  “What are you doing? Come upstairs!” shrilled Layla after a moment. Clearly, the woman was losing her mind over something.

  “Okay. Okay.”

  Curious, I climbed the stairs to the second floor, the stairs creaking under my weight and the carpet soft under my bare feet as I followed the voices.

  “You know I hate surprises,” I shouted, though I wasn’t sure she did. “My birthday’s not for another two weeks.”

  “Just shut up and get here already,” exclaimed Layla.

  “What’s going on?” The voices were coming from the smaller spare bedroom opposite the bedroom Gran kept for me whenever I crashed. I pushed the door open and peeked inside.

  Clustered around something in the far corner of the bedroom were Gareth, Danto, and Layla.

  “Guys? What’s going on?” I asked as I entered the room.

  “Come look!” came Layla’s excited voice with matching smile.

  Now, I really had to see what was going on. I hadn’t seen her this excited since she took the head off her first ghoul. I was so proud of her.

  I crossed the room. Seeing me, Gareth moved over to give me a better view of what they were all staring at—and my breath caught.

  Kora was lying in a cardboard box on a soft pink blanket. And there, cuddled against her, were four white kittens.

  Oh.

  My.

  God.

  Their fur was snow-white, perfect, just like their mother’s. Their eyes were open, and I could make out two with yellow eyes and two with blue eyes, far too intelligent for any animal. Because they weren’t. They were baby baal demons.

  Perfect tiny white furballs, soft and cuddly. They were the most precious kittens I’d ever seen. Now this was my idea of heaven.

  Kora lounged on her side, her face calm and poised and proud. I could hear her purring loudly. She looked even more beautiful now as a mother.

  Tyrius sat next to the box with the whites of his eyes showing, his fur bristled around him and a weird, distant smile plastered on his face—something I’d never seen before.

  Grinning, I bent down and ruffled the cat’s head. “You’ve been a very busy kitty.”

  Tyrius’s eyes focused on me. “Rowyn. I’m… I’m a father .” And then his eyes rolled into the back of his head, and he keeled over and landed on the wood floor with a thump.

  Gareth was the first to laugh. Hell, I joined in and laughed harder. Tyrius h
ad no idea what he was in for.

  Still kneeling, I had a better view of the little newborns. I wrapped my hands around my middle, straining to keep them there and not reach out to grab a kitten. Because that’s really what I wanted to do, and it was damn hard resisting their cuteness.

  Though one sharp look from Kora’s yellow eyes sobered me right up. I knew touching her newborn babies without permission was a very big no-no. Perhaps later, when they’d grown a little.

  And from Layla’s nervous hand twitching, I knew she wanted to grab one too, and was trying really, really hard not to.

  At that moment, the doorbell rang. “I’ll get it,” called my grandmother’s voice from downstairs.

  I heard the door open and close, followed by the murmurs of a happy greeting.

  “Rowyn.” My grandmother’s voice echoed from the bottom of the stairs. “Father Thomas is here to see you.”

  I stood up and gave Gareth wide eyes. “My rent.” Shit. I’d forgotten to pay the priest. Now that was a first-class ticket on the Netherworld train.

  I ran down the stairs two at a time. The priest looked up, his face transforming into a pleasant smile. He looked just as handsome and sexy as ever in his clerical black outfit, his thick black hair brushed just above his eyes.

  “I know. I know. I forgot the rent,” I expressed as I crossed the hall to the front door. “I don’t have it on me. But I’ll write you a check as soon as I get home. Promise.”

  The priest shook his head. “Never mind about that. Here. I’ve been asked to deliver this to you,” said the priest as he handed me a large white envelope.

  “Who’s it from?” I asked as I tore it open.

  “The angel-born Council,” said the priest, smiling. “I was just over there and they asked me if I’d bring it to you.”

  I stopped in mid-tear and looked at him, my heart pounding. “You know what this is. Don’t you?”

  The priest raised his brows. “Just read it.”

  “Read what?” Layla appeared next to me, her head practically resting on my shoulder.