by Kristie Cook
They were men, yet not exactly human. They all wore black, fighting leathers on their legs, but their torsos remained bare. Strapped across their chests and backs were a variety of weapons—swords, machetes, daggers, and guns. And spreading out from their backs were chestnut-colored, feathered wings, as big as Tristan’s and mine, but not quite as … beautiful. They certainly weren’t Angels standing in front of us, facing our army with their wings spread wide and their powerful muscles bulging, but they weren’t Demons, either.
Noah settled to the ground directly in front of Tristan and me, making my breath catch. His long, light brown hair waved over his shoulders in the breeze. His hazel eyes were filled with a fierceness I hadn’t seen in him before. His fists clutched two long swords, pointed downward, toward our feet. If I hadn’t known better, I’d say he was an avenging Angel, looking nearly as magnificent as Tristan.
But he wasn’t an Angel. None of us were. We were only pawns.
Tristan and I both pulled out weapons and crouched into a fighting stance. We hadn’t even reached the valley, and the battle was about to begin. Apparently, Lucas had sent the Summoned sons and their offspring as his front line, not caring if he lost any of them since he had the one son he needed. The Summoned were no longer confused, running away and laughing at our absurd attempts to convert them. Judging by their challenging stances, they obviously intended to fight to the death.
And the thought first and foremost in my mind: Where did they get the wings? And why weren’t they leathery, like the Demons’?
Tristan said I needed to be the one to give the order for attack, but I still couldn’t bring myself to do it. Once the fighting started, this battle wouldn’t end until one side was extinguished, and I already knew which side that would be. My internal war waged on—one part of me resolved on stopping Lucas from bringing Satan to Earth, and the other knowing that our attempt to do so would be the end of us all anyway. How could everyone not see that, especially the Angels?
Before I could make a decision to order a retreat or an attack, Noah and all of his men dropped to a knee and bowed their heads to me. For a moment, Tristan, my team, and I simply stood there, stunned. After recovering from the immediate shock, I opened my mind to theirs and balked at the onslaught of loyalty.
“You come to the losing side?” I scoffed, still unable to believe what I saw, what I felt. Not that the hundred or so winged men before me were enough to make a difference against Lucas’s army, but the fact that they even bowed to me knocked the air out of my lungs.
“Good will win,” Noah said assuredly.
I couldn’t suppress the dark chuckle. Good? The Summoned sons who’d chosen to go to the Daemoni? Hardly. But a stab of guilt twanged in my soul at this thought, because I’d known their souls had hope back when we cut the stones from their hearts. I’d been banking on that because it meant there would be hope for Dorian, too.
But it didn’t make sense.
“We’re outnumbered,” I said. “You aren’t enough to help us.”
“We aren’t. But they are.” Noah pointed a finger toward the black sky with its heavy clouds that were about to let a snowstorm loose. “We fight for them, and therefore, for you.”
I stared and rubbed my brow, not understanding. My sense reached out for them, and my eyes squinted as I felt their energy—all good, that of Amadis. They, too, trusted in the beings of Heaven.
“But … how?” I breathed. “The curse …”
“The curse has been broken,” Noah replied matter-of-factly, his face still tilted toward the ground. “We are now on your side, our souls given to you and the Angels.”
My stomach turned over on itself. “And Dorian …?”
Noah didn’t answer. Nobody else spoke.
“Where’s Dorian?” My question was met with more silence. “Noah, get up! All of you, up. Please. Just tell me where Dorian is.”
Noah rose to his feet, and the others followed in suit. He turned enough so that his back wasn’t completely to me, but so he could point to the fiery pit with the tip of his sword. I followed the line of sight, and my breath caught once again.
“Dorian!” I screamed.
The Daemoni and the Demons in the valley erupted into cheers and battle cries as two men floated above their heads—one ensconced in a fireball and the other, looking so much like Tristan now, flying by his own power. Together, they headed for the center of the flaming pit. I couldn’t sense his mind signature from here, or feel his thoughts.
“What is he doing? You said the curse was broken!”
Noah looked over his shoulder at me, his eyes dark with grief. “Dorian has broken it. But he is not released from it.”
Terror gripped me. “What? What does that mean?”
“He’s the first male born to the Amadis from both Jordan’s and Cassandra’s direct bloodlines,” Noah explained, his voice low but nonetheless easily heard. “He’s the only one ever in existence who could break the curse. He’s done just that by choosing to sacrifice himself by giving himself willingly, without desire for power or lust or anything else in return except for freedom of the Ames men.”
“Which he is one, too,” I insisted.
Noah turned back toward Lucas and Dorian who now floated above the center of the pit. “His commitment set us free. Keeps us free.”
My whole body trembled, my heart beating louder than the Shaman’s drums. “No. This can’t be!”
I sprang into the air and flew toward the center of the valley while keeping to its outer edge, close to the mountain. My eyes took in everything, my mind searching the thoughts of the thousands of Daemoni before me. Their excitement escalated, fed by the sickest, most malevolent images that brought bile up my throat. Demons dropped from the sky, their leathery wings beating against the air a few feet above the Daemoni’s heads. The darkness of black magic and evil from the pit rose and curled over my skin and feathers like a shadowy, acidic fog that made my nerves raw. I jumped when Tristan dropped in next to me.
My eyes landed on two women and two men at the far edge of the pit, directly across from us. Rene and Cruz curled their bodies around Victor and Edmund. The Weres’ eyes glowed yellow like the cats they were, excitement filling them as they gazed at Lucas and Dorian with a deep hunger. Their lips curled away from their fangs, and their claws lengthened, shredding Edmund’s and Victor’s shirts. Victor, like all of the vamps among the Daemoni, let out his fangs, and millions of demonic eyes glowed red or yellow as they watched. Unable to contain themselves a moment longer, Rene and Cruz burst into their feline forms, and Weres everywhere transformed, too.
Roars and howls sounded around the valley, and all coherent minds concentrated on the chant of, “Do it! Do it! Bring us our lord!”
Not even Tristan had the power to silence them. Not this many at once. Tristan, Owen, and I together were still no match for Lucas and his dozens of sorcerers scattered in the crowd, thrilling for the moment to use their darkest of magic. We could only watch in horror until Tristan saw our opportunity … or first blood was drawn.
“Do you think Dorian and Lucas are shielded?” I asked him.
“Probably. And shooting anything to find out could be seen as first strike.”
I didn’t even want to fight. We certainly wouldn’t be the ones to throw the first punch.
Lucas’s hand wrapped around Dorian’s wrist, and he turned in the air so they both faced Tristan and me. His eyes locked onto mine, and his lips curled upward in a grin that made the hairs on my arms stand on end. Dorian’s gaze came up to us.
Don’t do this, I begged him. You can get away!
“No, Mom, I can’t. This is what I want. This is what I’m meant to do.”
No, it’s not!
His eyes pleaded with me to understand, but I refused to accept his decision. I fisted my hands and yanked, trying to use my power to pull him to us, but he didn’t budge.
“So glad you came to witness this, my daughter.” Lucas’s voice, usually icy
and smooth but now low and gravelly, beastlike, easily carried to us. “Your payment for everything you’ve taken from me is much appreciated.”
A growl rumbled in Tristan’s throat, and my own echoed it.
Dorian, he’s using you.
He tipped his head in a small nod. “But I had to free the others so they could fight for you.”
My throat constricted, and tears blurred my vision. I know. And we thank you for it. But you don’t have to do this. Please, Dorian. He’s opening the Gates to Hell.
The corners of his lips lifted almost imperceptibly, and his eyes hardened as they held mine. “He’s going to try. You must stop him.”
I blinked the tears away and stared at my son. At the man he had become, hovering bravely by Lucas’s side.
“He’s so much like you,” I said to Tristan.
His large hand wrapped around mine. “No. I don’t have the courage he possesses in his little finger.”
“He won’t forget the stupid curse and just break free.”
“Of course he won’t. He’s our son, ma lykita.”
Lucas threw his white-blond head back and bellowed out a terrifying laugh. “Oh, no, you’re mistaken. Dorian is no longer yours. He’s mine now.” He leveled his head, and his gaze fell on his army. “Are you ready, my children? My brethren?”
The Daemoni and the Demons roared in response. The flames in the pit jumped and grew, leaping higher as though trying to taste the sky. The evil voices fell back into their chant, only louder and faster, their feet stomping and their fists pounding the air. The Shaman’s drums beat steadily. Dark magic spells soared through the air.
My eyes darted over the scene. “What is he doing? I can’t read his thoughts. His mind’s just full of excitement and anticipation for the power he’ll have.”
“I imagine Dorian has to make some kind of official declaration of his allegiance. See. There are the Ancients.” Tristan nodded to the left side of the pit, where several cloaked figures stood. The Ancients. The originals. Demons themselves.
Lucas lifted his hands above his head, barely quieting his followers. “The time we have been waiting for has finally come. The soul we needed has given himself to us. After millennia of bowing to the humans and allowing the Angels and Amadis to dictate over us, we can finally be free!”
The crowd cheered. My own army prepared for the battle that was obviously about to commence, no matter how much I wanted to prevent it. Weres burst into their beastly selves. Vampires let their fangs protrude and their nails lengthened into claws. Magical energy sparked over the fingertips of our mages. But still, I held back my order.
“There has to be a way to stop this,” I whispered to Tristan as electricity crackled across my own palm and fingers.
“Unleashing your power will only start things. Are you ready for that?”
I closed my fist before I lost control of the charge building inside.
“I love you, Mom and Dad,” Dorian whispered.
We love you, too, little man. Always, I replied, my wings closing around me as though they could protect my heart from the commitment in his eyes and voice.
“Let us call to our lord and welcome him!” Lucas bellowed as he turned himself and Dorian in a circle. “Let us give our lord what he needs!”
The Daemoni and the Demons let out a collective sound that made my skin crawl and lifted the hairs on the back of my neck. As the terrible, Satanic screech continued emitting from their mouths, they all turned toward us, and crouched, ready to pounce.
The noise undulated and then transformed into clearly audible words. “The blood of our enemy.”
“The blood of our enemy!” Lucas confirmed, his voice echoing over the valley and against the mountains. Then one hand waved toward Tristan and me, and his other darted out toward Dorian as though to grab him by the shoulder and show off his claim, so quick even I didn’t see the blur of movement. At that millisecond in time, the world stopped. Time stopped. No, not stopped. It ceased to exist in natural terms, as some movements came in the slowest of slow motions while others flashed by.
Dorian’s eyes, locked on mine, widened for the briefest fraction of a second that lasted minutes, and then tightened. His mouth, full like his father’s, flattened with determination. Lucas’s lips continued moving in slow, exaggerated motion, the syllables drawn out and lost on me, silenced by the whir in my ears as the most horrific feeling a mother could have slid down my spine, over my soul. My focus centered entirely on Dorian, and I entered his mind, finding memories of Tristan, me, Mom, Owen, and the rest of our family flashing by in quick succession.
“Love … you,” he whispered before his mind blacked out.
Then his head began falling to the side as a thick line of crimson stretched across his throat.
Chapter 24
My breath froze in my lungs. My heart toppled along with my stomach. My brain refused to translate what my eyes witnessed, because it couldn’t possibly be right. Lucas couldn’t have possibly slit Dorian’s throat.
Could he?
No. No, no, no. It didn’t make sense. I was missing something. Lucas had no reason to kill Dorian. He had every reason to keep him alive, on his side. So what the hell just happened?
These thoughts ran through my mind in a millisecond that felt like hours. Lucas’s lips were still moving, his hand hadn’t even reached his side yet. The blood on Dorian’s throat hadn’t even started dripping.
“THE BLOOD OF OUR YOUNGEST ENEMY.” The words he’d been speaking while cutting my son’s throat finally reached my ears and computed in my brain.
Jolted me into action.
“NOOOOOOO!” I screamed as I whipped my wings out. Several feathers, hard as steel, shot out of the edges, turned over, and flew like arrows toward Lucas. I wished I would have known they’d do that earlier, especially when they pierced through his shield. Before he knew what hit him, my purple ones and many of Tristan’s silver and black ones peppered into Lucas’s chest. His fireball disappeared, and he hung in the air, holding Dorian’s slackening body and staring at us open-mouthed.
Tristan and I launched ourselves toward him and Dorian, while the Daemoni and Demons fell eerily silent. For the briefest of moments, I was sure all anyone across the valley could hear was the sound of Tristan’s and my wings whooshing through the air. Thoughts were confused and jumbled as each side still tried to grasp what just happened.
It had all been so quick, but I knew. And I opened my mind to all of the Amadis and the Normans waiting with bated breath.
FIGHT! I ordered.
And with a roar, shields dropped and the battle began.
As Tristan and I advanced toward the pit, the confusion and shock in Lucas’s eyes cleared and his mouth crept into a vile grin. Then he opened his hand and released Dorian. My son’s body plummeted downward, into the pit of flames. And Lucas followed.
“NO!” I screamed again as I flew faster through the valley. “Dorian!”
A spell of black magic whirred toward me, but one of Owen’s green streaks blocked it before it hit my shield. I hadn’t reached the edge of the pit yet when two Daemoni vampires leapt into the air and grabbed at me, dragging me downward. I spun out of their holds while releasing the guns from their holsters and kicking each vamp in the head as I did so. With perfect clarity and focus, I aimed my guns at their hearts and shot them both. They fell immediately, their hands scrabbling at the silver bullets lodged in their chests. A dark gray werewolf lunged at me, its claws catching my calf and raking through my leathers and skin as its muzzle snapped and snarled, trying to latch on to me. I trained a gun at its head and pulled the trigger. With an arf, it went down. Before I could push myself higher into the air, two more Daemoni blocked my way. A paw with extended talons headed for my face, but I blocked it with my forearm, ducked, and spun. With flying fists, elbows, and feet, I fought them off of me, and then shot them in the heads for good measure.
Remorse immediately tried to trickle in and slow me dow
n, but I had to shove it away. Whether the souls had hope or not, I had to choose between my life or theirs, between my son’s life or theirs. I would choose my son. I couldn’t waste time, breath, or concern worrying about them when I had to reach Dorian and Lucas.
I rocketed myself higher into the air to avoid more Daemoni obstacles. Below me, Tristan fought off several others, but I had to leave him. I had to get to Dorian.
Thinking the air was safe was a critical mistake—Demons chased me now. One of them shot a ball of fire at me, Owen’s shield around me sizzled as it was devoured, and the fireball slammed into my leg. My leathers singed upwards, but no heat burned my skin. Rather, icy needles shot into my flesh, like the freezing cold of Hell had done while I was down there. Another ball of Hellfire hit my other leg, and then a third burnt off my leather jacket, leaving me in my vest and leather pants that barely covered my butt now. When a fourth ball soared at me, I kicked it away with my combat boot. I couldn’t see where it went because two Demons zoomed in on me.
Nails as long as pencils and sharpened to vicious points grasped onto my limbs and dug into my skin—one around my left wrist and the other on my right ankle. Their thin wings whooshed against the air as they flew in opposite directions, trying to rip me in two. I twisted around and shot them both. The silver bullets penetrated their thick hides and lodged into their flesh, eliciting ear-piercing screams. They dropped back for a moment, but mere bullets wouldn’t kill them, and they continued to fly at me. I shot at them again, slowing them, and I swerved around other Demons as I soared toward the pit. The Demons followed, but I didn’t care. As far as I was concerned, I was leading them back home.
I sped straight for the center, leaning forward to angle downward. As I headed for the flames that had swallowed my son’s body, I thought, They’re in your hands now. And as soon as those words crossed my mind, an epiphany hit me. By going after Dorian and trying to stop Lucas, I was leaving my people behind to fight the battle here. But I wasn’t leaving them on their own. I felt this truth in my heart and in my soul. I knew that what they were doing—fighting for the world, for humanity, for good—was the right thing to do, and somehow, no matter what happened, everything would turn out right. The way it was supposed to.