by Susan Illene
“It’s cooperating and answering my questions.”
“Demons lie,” the archangel replied, stepping around the trucker who lay in shock on the ground. “Do not listen to it.”
The possessed woman hissed, “I’m telling the truth!”
“Kill it now, son,” Raguel commanded.
There was something urgent in his father’s voice. Like he was desperate for Bartol to do as he asked before it was too late. He didn’t know what was going on, but he would listen to his sire. Raguel wouldn’t command the kill unless there was a good reason.
Bartol took his free hand and pressed it against the demon’s chest. Pulling the energy from inside with ease, he had it out and dissipated into the air in less than a minute. A personal best for him.
He dropped the limp body and turned to his father. “What was that about?”
“Trust me.” Raguel pursed his lips. “There is more to this than you know. Do not question the demons anymore. Kill them and move on to the next.”
“What?” Melena asked as she walked up. “What do you mean we can’t interrogate them?”
“I have my reasons. You’ll learn them when the time is right.”
The trucker climbed unsteadily to his feet. “Who are you people?”
Raguel turned to him, golden eyes glowing. “Forget about us and the attack. Wait inside your truck for your assistance to arrive.”
The man did as he was told, moving stiffly.
“Answer me, dammit,” Melena said, coming to stand before the archangel.
He shook his head. “I cannot.”
“Why is this happening?” Bartol asked.
“If I could tell you, I would. For now, all of you return to the compound.”
The archangel flashed away. Bartol and Melena stared at each other with the same unanswered questions, neither able to give an answer.
Chapter 12
Bartol
Three nerou stood guard over a demon-possessed girl as Bartol walked up to them. Every day for nearly a week, Raguel had found someone for them to track, and they were all getting quite good at it. Bartol hadn’t thought they’d progress so fast, but his father proved to be an excellent trainer. He hadn’t lost his touch in the thousands of years since he last led a legion of angels who’d fought demon armies. It was too bad he wouldn’t share why they were having so many troubles with the dark side lately. The archangel remained tightlipped about that.
Today, they’d had to track and capture a younger than normal demon host. Raguel had set the girl loose near the Chena River. He wasn’t very specific beyond the fact that he’d dropped the child off on the west side of Fairbanks, so it had taken a while for them to narrow down their target’s location. Though Bartol often found their prey first, a group of nerou had won the day this time. They’d had to call him once they’d immobilized their target since he still had to be the one to kill the demon. As he joined them now, they gave him smug smirks. Their training might be serious business, but they still made it a competition.
He stared down at their catch. It was a seven-year-old girl, lying unmoving on her back near the river bank. She wore purple jeans and a white t-shirt with a unicorn on the front. His gut twisted. It made Bartol sick that the demons would go after someone so young and innocent.
He studied the girl with curly, blond hair and his hopes flared. “The human soul is still present.”
Olivia nodded. “I noticed that as well.”
It had been too late for all the others until now, and their souls had already moved on to the afterlife. More often than not, demons destroyed the bodies of the people they possessed, not needing their hosts to be whole to animate them, but he was thankful this one had survived.
He kneeled down next to the still body. “The three of you did well with the capture.”
There wasn’t a scratch on the girl. They’d managed to take her down without hurting her, which was the goal in case the human soul inside remained. That wasn’t easy to manage.
All three nerou in the group smiled proudly. Most of their training was tough and unrewarding. The nephilim-sensor hybrids had almost no choice in their future and received little praise since it was considered their sacred duty. Bartol might not be the warm, sociable man he once was, but he tried to make a point of giving them credit when it was due. They deserved to be appreciated for their sacrifices.
“This one was weak and didn’t put up much of a fight,” a male nerou named Ivan said.
Most of the demons they’d tracked recently were of a lesser cast.
Bartol put his hand to the child’s chest. He was grateful he didn’t have to fight the demon inside and could go straight to work. Much of the time, it was quite inconvenient having to train with the nerou because he preferred to avoid people, but this time it proved to be an advantage. He couldn’t stun demons still like the hybrids could.
Taking a deep breath, Bartol drew the demon spirit out fast. It took less than twenty seconds this time. Bartol expelled the essence with a shudder, relieved to let it go. He checked the girl over next and found she had some internal wounds keeping her from waking on her own, including a concussion. The demon hadn’t been inside long, but their kind began doing damage almost from the start. They could keep the body animated no matter the injuries. Bartol’s skills at tending wounds were limited, and anything to do with the brain was beyond him.
“You.” He gestured at Ivan, remembering the large, hulking man had a talent for healing. As the only nerou who’d managed to stay with his father through childhood—all the way to sixteen years old—he knew his craft better than any of the others. His nephilim sire had been among the greatest at that particular skill. “Treat her.”
Ivan kneeled next to the girl. He touched her forehead and arm, closing his eyes. A few seconds passed before he opened them. “The damage is reversible.”
“Good. Then take care of her.”
As the nerou began his work, a brilliant flash of light appeared down the river bank. As it faded away, Jeriel and two of his angelic minions stood in its place. The cowboy archangel began walking toward them at a brisk pace, his nondescript men following behind him.
Bartol rose to his feet and crossed his arms. “What are you doing here?”
“All of you need to return to the compound now.” He glanced down at the girl, who was beginning to wake as Ivan healed her wounds. “I’ll take care of her.”
“I’m nearly finished,” Ivan said.
“Then get it done quickly. She needs her memories altered and to be returned to her family. My men and I can do it faster than any of you.”
Olivia lifted her chin. “Think highly of yourself, do you?”
He shrugged. “I’m only stating facts, ma’am.”
“You’re not very good at pretending to be human,” she replied.
“I’d say your words wound me, but they don’t.” He gave her a lazy smile and switched to a heavy southern accent, “If I was of the mind, though, I could convince ya.”
She twitched her nose. “Maybe.”
Ivan rose to his feet. “I’m done.”
Jeriel flicked his hands at the three nerou, and they disappeared. Only a very powerful archangel could transport three people at a time and not have to go with them. Bartol had never seen it done.
“I have a special assignment for you,” Jeriel informed him. “I’ll tell you more at the compound, but for now I need you to gather the others and have them ready for me to speak to them when I arrive.”
Bartol would have liked to tell the archangel to go to Hell, but whether he liked it or not, he worked for the man now. “I’ll take care of it.”
He flashed away.
As soon as he arrived on the training field, he headed toward the instructor offices. Lucas would be able to track and gather all his students much faster. Bartol found the nephilim sitting at his desk, frowning at a sheet of paper he held.
“Jeriel has returned. He wants everyone gathered as quickly as p
ossible.”
Lucas set the paper down, jaw tightening. “And so it begins.”
Most nephilim didn’t care for the angels and their directives, but the man before Bartol hated them more than most. He’d suffered greatly by them over the centuries. It didn’t help that he’d been raised by his fallen father, who’d been particularly cruel to him. He’d held a grudge ever since, even if he’d gotten better at hiding it in recent years.
“I’ll call them,” Lucas said, grabbing his cell phone. “If you can find the nerou present in the compound, I would appreciate it. We’ll meet in the field.”
Bartol wanted to refuse out of habit, but even he knew it was getting old to turn down simple requests just because he wanted to avoid people whenever possible. It wouldn’t kill him to gather the nerou, and he had gotten more used to them in recent days. “Certainly.”
He headed toward the dining facility first and found the three who had been with him at the river. A dozen others were there as well, eating their lunch. Not everyone had participated in training so they wouldn’t be on top of each other during the demon hunting exercises. Except for the first few days, the nerou rotated so just half trained each day. They had other classes to take when they weren’t out in the field.
“Finish your meals quickly and head outside,” Bartol ordered.
Groans and mutters of frustration chorused around the room.
He left the dining facility and went to the dorms. Several more nerou were milling about in there, and he directed them to the training field. By the time he’d gathered all the nerou around the compound, he’d found almost half of them. The rest were pulling up in vehicles or being flashed back by Raguel. Nearly all of them were seated on the grass when Jeriel appeared before them.
He didn’t have his cowboy hat on, and he’d changed into a traditional archangel white robe. Clearly, he meant business with this meeting. Bartol had been alive for more than eighteen hundred years and only since leaving Purgatory had he ever seen angels become this involved in the affairs of Earth. They’d always governed nephilim—and even the fae—when there were troubles, but now they were becoming more active. He found it unsettling. It was much better when they were out of sight and out of mind.
“I am the archangel Jeriel for those who have not met me yet,” he began, addressing all fifty of the nerou as well as the half-dozen nephilim trainers standing behind them. “As the humans would say, I will now be your boss.”
Olivia raised her hand. “What does that mean?”
“Your assignments, what you do, how you do it…will be dictated by me.”
Ivan frowned. “We’ve already been told where we’ll be posted and what our duties will be. What are you adding to that?”
“I will monitor you closely to ensure you do as you are told and provide direction and assistance when necessary.” He gave them a grave look. “Our jobs won’t be easy, but they will be necessary.”
Another nerou spoke up, “We graduate in less than two weeks. Is anything changing with that?”
“No.” Jeriel shook his head. “Though I will head the ceremony for you.”
“We will have an official ceremony?” Olivia asked, surprised.
“Of course. The duty that lies before you is sacred. It will be your job to protect the humans of Earth and keep the supernaturals from harming them. None other than angels have had this responsibility before now. You should be proud you’ve been entrusted with such a position, and the ceremony will remind you of the gravity of that. Every nerou training facility will have one, staggered on different days so that I will be present for each.”
“We’re going to be stationed all over the world,” Ivan said, crossing his arms. “How will we communicate with you?”
He had a point. There were approximately two hundred nerou between the four training compounds who would be posted at locations across the planet. Even for an archangel, that was a lot of ground to cover and monitor.
“For one, I will provide communication stones so that you can call on me when necessary or I may call upon you—think of them like cell phones with more reliable reception. I also have several angel assistants who you may see if I cannot come directly.” He waved his arm and three men appeared. “Take a good look at them so you’ll recognize them in the future.”
Jeriel went on to answer more questions. He let them know the Alaska facility would be his headquarters, but he could be anywhere on the planet in a moment should there be an emergency. They also wondered about pay and how they’d survive. The archangel assured them they’d be provided means so that they could set up homes and acquire transportation. No one knew where Heaven got its money, but some speculated there were angels playing the stock market.
After Jeriel finished speaking with the nerou, he called Bartol and Raguel into one of the nephilim offices. He moved to stand behind the desk. “I know you are still training, but you must put it on hold for a few days.”
“Why?” Bartol asked.
“Problems have arisen in Los Angeles that require your immediate attention.”
Raguel frowned. “What sort of problems?”
“There is a trio of demons there who must be vanquished as soon as possible,” Jeriel said, voice grave. “They are causing trouble we can ill afford.”
Gone was the casual cowboy Bartol had grown used to and now they had the full archangel in front of them. It wasn’t just his meeting with the nerou that made him more formal than usual; something else was going on here.
“Could you narrow down what sort of trouble?” Demons were making the news more and more, though humans blamed the supernatural races since they didn’t know Hell’s minions were infiltrating Earth.
“They are keeping a portal open to allow more of their brethren to get through and possess humans.” The archangel ground his jaw. “They must be stopped immediately.”
“I thought they were forbidden to do that through the treaty,” Bartol argued.
“They couldn’t. At least, they weren’t supposed to, but these three are a remnant of the past who have returned with no regard for the rules.”
Raguel remained oddly silent, not questioning this latest development at all.
Bartol glanced between the two archangels. “But if they’ve broken the treaty…”
“Let’s just say it’s complicated,” Jeriel replied, letting some of his exhaustion show for the first time. “There is a reason for the instructions we’ve given you and the others, for why things are changing rapidly.”
“And that is?” Bartol prompted.
“I’m not at liberty to say for the moment. For now, go kill the demons as swiftly as possible and return for the rest of your training. We are relying on you to do this before too many more demons enter this plane.”
“Let’s go, son,” Raguel said, lifting his chin. “This shouldn’t take long.”
Bartol understood the urgency but still hesitated. “I must check on my mate before I go.”
Jeriel nodded. “Do it quickly. I’ll have one of my men keep an eye on her while you’re gone.”
“You will?” This came as a surprise since it wasn’t something angels would normally offer.
“Your child is the future.” Jeriel’s features softened. “Contrary to what you might think, we’ve always protected them from harm—even if it meant taking them from their parents and sequestering them away.”
“Perhaps, but only to use as enforcers,” Bartol growled.
“Of course we have our reasons, but nonetheless, your mate and unborn child will be safe while you’re gone. That I promise.”
He hated to admit it, but he believed the archangel. Bartol felt as if everything he ever knew and believed was being turned on its head. For so long, they’d thought the nerou were gone forever once the angels took them away after birth. He’d spent the better part of a century in Purgatory without knowing they were there with him—only in a different area of the island. It had stunned him when he’d found out. There was
so much about the angels that didn’t make sense to him and perhaps never would.
“Very well, I’ll hold you to that promise,” he said, and flashed away.
Chapter 13
Cori
The room was cold and sterile, and all Cori wore was a thin gown. She lay on the exam table, shivering nervously as she waited for Paula to do the weekly exam. Doctor’s visits always made her anxious. What if something was wrong? What if something had changed and the baby wasn’t okay anymore? There wasn’t enough recent medical history for them to know if all nerou pregnancies went without complications. Maybe some didn’t. Not to mention she was currently in a transition state between mortal and immortal. Could that affect the baby? No one knew for certain.
And once again Bartol hadn’t come with her, which would have at least made her feel a little better. He could be very reassuring when he set his mind to it, and she wanted him to be a part of this. Instead, he’d left a few hours ago for Los Angeles with no notice, leaving her on her own. It was more than a little frustrating that he could be so protective one moment and then off on his own in the next, barely acknowledging the baby growing inside her. He didn’t even try to see if Jeriel would at least let him stay long enough to attend the appointment. It wouldn’t have delayed him by much, but Bartol had refused to argue about it when she confronted him.
At least Melena came with her. She’d taken off work so that Cori wouldn’t have to go by herself again. Never before had she been so thankful that she had such a supportive friend. Sure, this wasn’t her first pregnancy, but the prospect of it still scared her. She didn’t know what to expect with a supernatural baby even after asking everyone a thousand questions. It just seemed surreal to her.
Paula came into the room. “How are you doing today?”
“Okay.” Cori sat up a little straighter. “Just getting tired more easily.”
“That is totally normal.”
She and Melena were quiet as the doctor set up the ultrasound equipment and put gel on Cori’s stomach. This was always the moment of truth. The baby kicked a lot, so she knew her child was alive and quite energetic, but that didn’t mean things were perfect.