This was why she was never fully turned when she fell from grace. The Overseer left her as she was, a winged rodent, a fallen angel caught in limbo between being a Darkling. A weapon to be used.
The new being she had become gripped the tee shirt wrapped hilt of the sword laying at her feet and rose. She raised the blade above her head and pivoted. Her improved eyesight perceived movement on the other side of the portal. And power, immense and evil.
That’s what inside me. Always was. Ice coursed through her veins. One swipe from the empyreal blade and the surface would shatter, and all the realms in the universe would be opened. Unlimited realms, all vulnerable to the dark scourge plaguing this world. Unlimited realms with access to this realm. The Blood Portal was a highway that went in both directions, a viscous entity, ebbing and flowing like the ocean caught in the gravitational pull of the moon.
Enough humanity remains in your veins to wield the sword.
“Aurora!”
Her gaze snapped to the left where a human struggled against a horde of Darklings. His sword nowhere in sight. They spared the human? Why? A willing human sacrifice was needed, and the former UnHallowed who’d found his redemption would never be willing.
He will be the first sacrifice. The beat of the Overseer’s wings kicked dirt into the air.
“My will is yours,” she murmured. The Overseer backed away while she closed the distance between her and the human, her fingers now claws.
“Aurora! Be the warri—” His words ended when their bodies collided. The Darklings backed away. The human blocked her fists but didn’t return her blows. Even when she slashed his arms, heard his ribs crunch, and had his warm blood splattered on her face.
This fight was familiar, a repeat of one they had before. One where he killed me and sent me to the dark.
A kick to his stomach dropped him. Aurora followed with a knee to his forehead, which flipped him to his back. She landed on top, her claws raised. Cuts to his lip, temple, and cheeks bled freely while his left eye swelled as she watched, pleased with the results. He grabbed her wrists and yanked her into his body. Locked against him.
“It’s okay, Aurora. I’ve loved you for an eternity. No matter what you do, I won’t stop loving you,” he whispered.
She broke his hold and snatched up the sword and placed the tip at the center of his already bloody chest. He didn’t try to stop her or save himself. He lay there, his face serene, accepting his fate, his hands on her knees, caressing.
“I’m so sorry, Aurora. If I had known, I would’ve saved you. I swear I wouldn’t have let you fall.” Warrant cried, he rocked her, and she slowly evaporated, turned to mist, and descended to her new home.
She touched her neck. The feel of his tears lingered on her skin. The memory of his anguish was fresh. He’d mourned her until the sun peeked over the horizon and Merrix folded the shadows around them. She knew this because the Overseer tortured her with the knowledge of the love she hadn’t lost, but never had.
Their eyes met. Hers begged for forgiveness. His held a wealth of compassion. All the compassion she’d lost.
In unison, the Terrors screeched, and the sword was snatched away. Passed along, each Tiny Terror carried it but a millisecond. They all died in a burst of flames, but their goal was achieved. The sword, tip covered with Warrant’s blood, pierced the empyreal seal of the Blood Portal.
Chain him. He can still be of use, the Overseer said, a note of triumph in his voice.
Aurora leaped off his body and roughly helped him to his feet. Warrant continued to be unbowed. Back stiff, he stood erect, even when shackles were clamped around his wrists and ankles. A collar with spikes on the inside was wrapped around his throat. Some already punctured his skin. Under heavy guard, he leaned against the wall.
His eyes arctic, his gaze found hers. Not filled with hate, but determination and a wealth of misplaced faith…and a single plea.
What he asked, she wouldn’t do, wouldn’t leave, and forfeit his life.
They will make you a slave. His voice filled her head.
They think I’m one already.
Is that what you want to be?
No. She wanted no shackles binding her. Not to the Darklings, who were subservient to the Demoni Lords, nor to the Council of Archangels. She wanted to be herself, not Darkling, not Comfort. Whatever darkness or grace flowed through her, she would be Aurora.
And Aurora would not let the Blood Portal fall into the wrong hands.
Beneath her tee shirt, the pendant pulsed like a living, sentient being calling to her. Her last link to her former self. And she knew what she had to do. She fished the pendant out of the tee. She snapped the link—
The Overseer knocked her down, pinned her with one hind leg on her shoulder. His claws dug into her flesh while he raised the other leg for a fatal swipe. The pendant slipped from her hand and rolled toward the edge of the fissure, the necklace trailing behind it.
Aurora reached for it and missed by millimeters. She bucked, ignored the pain, and strained for her last chance, but she couldn’t break free. It was over. She was over.
A shaft of sunlight parted the darkness, fragmented, and seemed to dart around the room, striking each Darkling. The Tiny Terrors burst into flames. The Overseer threw his body into the nearest wall and shrank to half its size before the deadly light.
She rolled out of the way of the beam and pressed against the same wall as the Overseer. She’d escaped the light, but parts of his shrunken body couldn’t find shelter in the dwindling shadows. He scrabbled along the wall, but there was no place to hide. The light purposely seemed to seek him out. A hissing sound jerked her attention to the portal. The sword clattered to the ground as the breach stretched from end to end and an ash colored mist seeped out.
The pendant! Where is it!
A swirling rainbow of colors refracting light from the sunlight drew her eye to the orb a few feet away. It perched inches from the edge, stuck in a small crevice. One lunge and she’d reach it, but she’d be caught in the open sunlight.
A rumble and a crash sounded above her, and the sunlight was gone. She looked up to see Terrors in the remains of the house, chewing at the exposed beams. The little bastards had planned for everything. Their handiwork caused a partial collapse of the roof and second floor, blocking the sunlight and throwing the house back into darkness.
The Overseer lunged for her and latched onto her arm. It whipped her to the ground, hard, and pinned her there. Stunned, she lay there, blinking quickly to clear her fogged brain. Instinct had her twisting her head to the right seconds before fangs would’ve sunk into her neck. Her eyes fixed on the pendant. It had bounced from the impact and resumed its roll toward the fissure.
“Aurora!” Warrant shouted.
She spared him a glance. His gaze darted to her left, to one of his short blades not far from her hand, then he broke free of his captors and lunged for the necklace. Their last hope, only hope, tumbled over the edge.
She snatched up the blade and slashed the tendons straining in the Overseer’s legs. Once. Twice. She raised her hand for a third strike, but he smacked the blade away, sending it into the fissure as he crumbled and crashed to the side. She wretched herself free and leaped into the fissure. Wings tucked close to her sides, she darted through the darkness, searching…
Foul air streamed by, pulling at her hair and tee, slowing her when she needed to go faster.
Searching… Searching…
The impact would kill her.
But it will be quic—
A tiny beacon of light winked as it plummeted. The fissure narrowed. Tighter, she tucked her wings and reached for it. The second Aurora snatched it out of the air, she snapped open her wings. Damaged from the Overseer’s claws, her shoulders twisted at an unnatural angle, bending her spine, and sending her into a tailspin. Her senses screamed at the approaching ground. She had seconds…seconds, before a movable object—her—met an immovable object—the end of the fissure. Splat, the
result.
Aurora threw herself into the wall of the fissure and used her feet and free hand to latch onto the side as Tiny Terrors smashed into the ground, their wet impact echoing. No time to celebrate, she opened her wings, forced away the pain, and began to ascend.
Agony sliced with each flap of her wings. She focused on the pendant clutched in her palm, not the worry about Warrant or what waited…the Overseer.
The top of the fissure approached. She slowed and peeked over the edge.
“Look out!”
She didn’t second guess Warrant’s warning. Dodge left. Tuck my wings and drop. Open. Now! The action happened at light speed, even if it seemed to last a week, especially when the Overseer clipped her. She spun, took in the landscape. Warrant, bloody yet alive, next to the portal with approximately ten Terrors guarding him. He knocked five of the beasts aside, seized the empyreal sword from the ground, and tossed it to her. She caught the weapon with her feet—burning them in the process—flipped the sword in the air and caught it again by the wrapped hilt as a dark shape barreled toward her.
“Fly, Aurora!”
Did he really think she needed his command? In the open sky, she couldn’t outrun the Overseer. But in the tight confines of the demolished house, she may have a chance to outsmart him and make her way back to the portal. That was the plan. That was as good as it got because that was all she had.
Chapter Twelve
Aurora flew through the destroyed ceiling of the underground cavern and into the basement of the house. She darted through the wreckage of Warrant’s stark bedroom and the scattered headstone in the burial chamber to climb through an opening into the disarray of the kitchen.
The scrabbling of multiple claws propelled her forward until something latched onto her calve just as she leaped over a downed cabinet. Sword extended, she spun and cleaved three Terrors poised to attack. But more forced their way into the room.
Higher! Gotta get higher!
She made it through the obstacle course in the kitchen by climbing up the partially destroyed back staircase and squeezing through a two by four opening back to the living room where her bedroom had relocated. The bed in two pieces, the dresser drawers strewn everywhere, the armoire reduced to kindling, and her gun on top of the pile.
Aurora remembered the clip was light three bullets, and how ineffective the iron bullets were on Warrant. But the Terrors were tiny. She fired at them, hitting her mark each time. Their bodies exploded with each impact. She didn’t stop until the dry click of the magazine registered and the tide of Darklings ceased.
She took a deep breath, her first since the fissure opened. A bout of giddy laughter erupted. Bent over, she braced her hands on her knees and breathed.
The floor cracked and gave way. Aurora took to the sky, her wings flapping with the speed of a hummingbird. The heavy beat of the Overseer’s wings smothered the sound of her galloping heart. She didn’t need to glance over her shoulder to see his proximity. She knew he was there by the fear flooding her system and his stench filling her nostrils. The fear wasn’t greater than her determination.
Darting around exposed beams, she swept into the tilted second level of the house. Her wings kept clipping debris no matter how much she tucked them to her sides. Each clip slowed her. Not the Overseer. He barreled through each obstacle. The house crumbled around them. Chunks of plaster and drywall rained down. Dingy pinkish fluff—the remains of the insulation—dirt, and dust floated in the air. Some blew in her face. She batted them away and peeked through an opening in the attic. Where once it was sunny, now towering clouds blanketed the sky casting a dark pall over the landscape. Day had become a quasi-twilight.
If she could make it outside and circle around the house, find another opening, get to the portal another way… She swallowed a curse. Sealing the portal had to come first. Whatever strength remained after that task she would give to defeating the Overseer, emissary of the Demoni Lords. He could not acquire the portal. And she would not fail. The bastard stalking her had to die, would die. It’s what a warrior of the Celestial Army would do.
She broke for the opening. Climbing through the rafters of the attic proved as daunting as the rest of the house. There was no easy path around the random clutter of boxes, battered furniture, and dangling wires. A wardrobe lay on its side with a cast of floral dresses spilling from its guts.
At every turn, the Overseer blocked her exit. He wouldn’t be satisfied until she was dead and the portal his. Neither would happen today. She searched for another way. There had to be another way!
The house shifted. She grabbed onto a beam to keep from tumbling. Her enemy wasn’t so lucky. The scattered furniture pummeled him. She gave a silent cheer when a pathway opened, then died down quickly when it was blocked by a dresser and sofa. She could move them out of the way, though not before the Overseer was on her.
She heard a pained grunt. An outside wall had collapsed, and a pile of bricks covered half of the demon. Too bad the bricks hadn’t landed on his head instead of his lower half. Exhausted, she stopped. Just for a second to take a deep breath, then she approached the furniture blocking her way.
Aurora.
The room blurred, and a bout of dizziness left her head swimming. When it cleared, Michael—pure white wings threaded with gold, adorned in his silver battle armor—stood where the Overseer had lay. Hair made from sunshine, face stark, devoid of emotion due to his lofty station as judge, jury, and executioner of Father’s decrees, yet there was none more handsome in the heavens or earth.
Aurora, stand down! Obeying his command was absolute. She lowered her weapon, bowed her head, and dropped to one knee, though she was far from relieved. But she should be. With Michael here, their victor was assured.
Invincible defined Michael. Weapons have no effect on the Archangel. So blessed with grace, nothing could penetrate his skin, the lower angels whispered. Only one had ever surpassed him in the glorious retelling of the early years, his former superior, Metatron, whose fate all knew and whose massive blade Michael had inherited.
I sent you here for Warrant’s redemption. An easy task with him already on the brink. All he needed was a push and he would have ascended back into Heaven. How did you fuck it up!
Aurora remained as she was, one knee, head bowed. But inside, she reeled. First, Warrant had found redemption, though not in his return to Heaven, but in finding his humanity, a gift just as humbling. Michael, the Archangel, would know that. Second, and even more damning, Michael would never, neither would any angel, ever utter that word.
He. Wasn’t. Michael.
That absolute truth rocked her. But worse, that meant Michael had never come to her, pulled her from the pits and set her on this quest. Never offered her a chance to regain what she lost. Everything she believed, everything, was a lie. She had no path to redemption. She wasn’t even UnHallowed. She, Aurora, was a Darkling.
The boat. The ocean filled with the dying. The screams mingling with her own. All replayed behind her closed eyelids…and one more thing she’d forgotten. Warrant. He’d cradled her in his arms, a pendant dangled from a delicate chain around his thick neck. The clear orb held a single drop of liquid, a tear she’d given him when he’d fallen from grace.
Warrant yanked the pendant free, and as she turned into an abomination, he drew the last of her grace into the pendant. You can find it where the sun meets the earth, the first place we met. When you need it. It will be there.
She hadn’t found it. The Overseer had. With the pendant he tracked her down in purgatory, facilitated her escape through a different portal, one that neither side had a way to control, and released her for this purpose.
In one hand, she held the empyreal sword, in the other, the pendant filled with the last of her grace. Both burned, but neither equaled her bitterness at this outcome.
I will find another to complete this task, Michael snarled.
No. You will not. She lunged forward, sword raised to eviscerate the lie standing
in front of her. Michael vanished, leaving the Overseer, snarling, snapping, claws digging into the wooden floors for purchase. He shook free of the brick and deflected each of her blows. In the tight space, she should’ve had the advantage; instead, he smashed through each piece of furniture, each beam and drywall blocking his way.
Yes, she managed to wound him. But by the time he bled out from the slashes, she’d be long dead. She flew across the room and to the other side. She was on her feet facing him without a second to spare.
Trapped and out of options, if this was her last stand, then she’d make him pay. Something squeaked and banged above her head.
A porthole window hung open, the hinge squeaking. Aurora scrambled up the wall, squeezed through the window and flung herself into the cloudy skies. An outraged roar erupted behind her, followed by a crash. There would be no circling the house for another entry point. The Overseer was directly behind her and gaining.
Chapter Thirteen
She looked to the heavens and the roiling clouds and aimed for the densest, darkest one. She entered the cloud full of water and lightning seconds ahead of the Overseer. Aurora clutched the pendant in one fist—guarding the precious essence and silently pleading for it to impart some of its strength, though she knew that could not happen. The essence wasn’t hers to claim anymore.
She spun and raised the empyreal sword. Lightning crackled, momentarily illuminating ethereal figures in the clouds.
Members of the Celestial Army are here!
Her joy evaporated. None held their weapons. They weren’t there to help. They were there to witness. All except one, a Comfort was amongst their midst. Same iridescent garnet eyes, same halo of garnet colored hair.
Colleen! Her heart cried out to her best friend. Forgive me!
A faint smile traced her lips.
The Overseer was on her, swiping at her head with his outstretched claws. She ducked beneath and dragged the sword along his exposed flank. He roared and pivoted to catch her as she streaked past.
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