Hellsbane 02 - Heaven and Hellsbane

by Paige Cuccaro

  “You? You’re just some Fallen’s lapdog.” I laughed, knowing I was chafing his pride and not giving a crap. “No way do you have the kind of juice it would take to pick the lock on nephilim power. Naw…I’m not buying it. I sent your last master to the abyss, so whose butt are you kissing now? Which Fallen is providing the real power in your stab-and-grab attacks?”

  Bariel’s eyes narrowed, his thick face flushed. “I was never in debt to that narcissistic cherub. He didn’t have the rank to master my big toe. Do not forget I too was once a seraph. Or perhaps you’d prefer me to provide a demonstration. I should think freeing this boy’s angelic power would do the trick.”

  The demon’s sword dropped away and he lunged forward, splaying his open hand against Dan’s chest.

  “No!” My protest stopped Bariel from whatever he was about to do. I didn’t think he had the power to unleash Dan’s angelic half, but I wasn’t willing to bet his life on it. “Okay. You can…you can have the sword.”

  “Slide it to the doctor, if you please,” Bariel said.

  I opened my hand and the sword hit the concrete floor with a clatter. Before it came to rest, I kicked it to the gibborim doctor—the sound of metal sliding over concrete loud in the dark, early morning silence.

  “Okay. Now let Dan go,” I said, seeing the doc pick up Jaz’s sword from the corner of my eye.

  “I would be happy to release Daniel, if that is indeed his wish.” Bariel brought his sword point back to Dan’s neck. “What say you, boy? Will you join us, or shall I uncap your neck and release your soul from its mortal binding?”

  “Dammit, Bariel. That wasn’t the deal,” I said, fighting to keep the fear choking at the back of my throat from weakening my voice.

  He flicked his purple eyes my way, a satisfied smirk tugging the corner of his lips. “Yes. Forgive me, but there was already an offer on the table before you arrived that must first be decided.” He looked back to Dan. “Time to choose, Daniel. Do you accept my offer? You see there is no reason to concern yourself over displeasing Emma Jane. She will never be yours as long as she remains an illorum. There will always be a part of her life she cannot, will not, share with you.”

  “Shut up, Bariel,” I said, but a nerve at the back of my neck pinched and guilt tightened across my shoulders. “Dan, tell me you’re not falling for this. You know how I feel about you. He’s lying. You don’t want to get mixed up in this, not if you have a choice. I can get you out of this.”

  Dan turned his head, just a fraction of an inch as though he’d look back at me, but Bariel’s blade pressed harder into his skin.

  He sighed and faced the demon again, but his words were for me. “A choice, Emma? Really? Seems to me you make the choice every day to stay mixed up in this.”

  I edged closer. “What are you talking about?”

  “What have you done to find your angelic father? Have you spoken to the contact I gave you at the hotel?” he asked.

  “Dan, people are dying. I have to help if I can. You know that, right? I can’t just stop to go chase every thin lead.” But I knew it was a flimsy excuse. I’d barely even thought about the blurry photo of the angel who’d seduced my mother. Was I ignoring the chance to find my angelic father because a part of me didn’t want to leave this life? I didn’t know anymore.

  “You make your choices, and I’ll make mine,” Dan said. Then to the demon he said, “Tell me how this works. What do I have to do to trigger my power?”

  The point of Bariel’s sword lowered slightly as he pulled another sword from his hip. The black blade sizzled into existence as it drew from the hidden sheath—the air around it wavering like heat vapors, thin smoke rolling off the forming metal. “It’s quite simple. Use this sword to take the sword of a magister, and then kill him with it. Then we’ll see what happens.”

  Dan reached out for the sword, but the demon held it back suspiciously before allowing the cop to take it in his grip.

  “Any magister?” Dan asked, and the demon beamed like a proud father.

  “Yes. Any magister. Even Elizal, if you like.”

  Dan nodded, marveling at the weapon in his hand.

  “Please, Dan. Don’t do this,” I said.

  He got to his feet, ignoring me. “So it can hurt magisters. What will it do to demons?”

  “Pardon?” Before Bariel could puzzle out the question, Dan slashed the sword across the belly of the demon, drawing a quick line of black, oozing blood. The momentum of his swing spun him around and he threw the gibborim weapon to me.

  The toss was short, but I sped forward and caught it. Doc Westly was on my heels, but the moment of confusion played to my advantage and I twisted in time for the gibborim to race right into the blade—skewering himself through the gut. His blue eyes widened, surprise and pain playing across his face.

  “Emma Jane,” Eli said, and I glanced across the overlook to where the bodies of the other two gibborim lay. I watched as Eli snatched up my sword.

  “Stupid soul sack,” Bariel said and I spun back to see the demon’s sword stab through Dan’s back and out his chest. “I did promise to release you, did I not?”

  Disbelief stretched the whites of Dan’s eyes and he looked down at the bloody blade, his arms relaxed at his sides. His gaze came back up to me. “It’s okay,” he said, a shaky smile playing across his lips. “I’m okay. It doesn’t hurt.”

  A scream ripped through my head, my mouth open, gaping, and soundless. Precious seconds ticked by but I couldn’t move, couldn’t think, my body like stone, freezing me to the spot.

  Bariel pulled back his sword, yanking it from Dan’s spine, and the man’s knees buckled. Before his body hit the ground, Eli appeared at his side, catching him. With a backhanded swing, the angel sliced a line across the demon’s neck that I knew in an instant wasn’t deep enough. But it was all Eli needed to allow him time to vanish with Dan in his protective embrace.

  A heartbeat later I was in my bedroom, struggling to help Eli lower Dan’s limp body to the floor. Blood seeped in a sickeningly familiar scene—a bright, shimmering pool that spread faster than I could reason.

  I looked up at Eli. “Heal him. I don’t care about breaking rules or risking war or pissing off God himself. Heal him, Eli. Do it. Do it now.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Daniel is unmarked. He’s innocent,” Eli said, his pale eyes flashing an angry glance my way. He scooped the bleeding man from my arms into his and stood. “Healing him has no bearing on the war. But death has a way of finding a person one way or another. My effort is an insult to the order of things.”

  “Yeah? Well I can’t say that I care if Death is insulted,” I said. “Just do it. Please. Save him.”

  Eli’s jaw tightened and he looked at Dan for an agonizing heartbeat or two and then finally back to me. “Where do you want him?”

  “What do you mean? While you heal him?”

  He adjusted the big man in his arms, cradling him like a child. “It’s done. He’s healed, but he’s lost a lot of blood. He’s covered in it. I assume you don’t want to ruin the sheets on your bed.” He raised a brow. “Unless you want him in your bed.”

  Was that a question? Jealousy? I ignored it. “Right. Let’s put him in the guestroom. Can you help me clean him up?”

  Eli didn’t answer; he just turned and headed across the hall to the other room.

  “You’re sure he’s okay?” I asked, quickstepping after him.

  “I wouldn’t lie to you, Emma Jane,” he said, stopping beside the bed. “I know how much he means to you.”

  “No. I know. I was just—” Crap, this was weird. I sighed. “You’re right. He means a lot to me. But—”

  “No but,” Eli said. “That’s all that matters. You should know that.”

  I opened my mouth to say something, but couldn’t think of a thing and pressed my lips together. I propped my hands on my hips and just said, “Thank you.”

  He turned and sat on the bed, holding Dan in his lap l
ike a protective father.

  “Eli, I have to tell you. Jaz is…” My throat tightened, tears stinging. “They killed Jaz. I couldn’t stop them. And they got his sword.”

  He didn’t look up at me, his gaze on Dan’s sleeping face. “I know.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I said, regret and sorrow twisting my stomach. “I didn’t know him very well, but he was there helping Dan—trying to help me.”

  “He isn’t lost, Emma Jane. He’s with our Father. There is no greater reward.” His gaze swung up to mine. “We’ll need a basin of water, a washcloth, and a towel. And a clean change of clothes if you have it.”

  “Right. Okay. Yes.” I snapped into action, racing from the hall closet to the bathroom and back to the guestroom. I didn’t have any clothes for him. Dan had stayed over enough but he’d always left with what he’d worn.

  Thankfully, he was unconscious for most of the process. I wasn’t sure how I’d explain Eli holding him while I tugged off his ruined, blood-soaked shirt and even worse when I peeled off his wet jeans and baby-blue briefs. When we were done, Dan was healed, clean, and totally naked.

  Eli gently laid him in the bed, and I tucked the blanket and sheets around him. “How long do you think he’ll be out?”

  The angel raised a shoulder in an elegant shrug. “It’s hard to say. As long as it takes, I would imagine.”

  “Wow. Thanks for that, Captain Obvious.” I grabbed his hand and led him to the corner of the room, lowering my voice so as not to wake Dan. “What’s going on, Eli? I know you’re not his biggest fan, but there’s something else.”

  Eli’s pale blue eyes shifted from Dan to me. “Why did Bariel spare him? He could have ended him easily at any time before I arrived. Why didn’t he?”

  “I don’t know,” I said, unsure why it mattered. “I guess when Dan showed up, the other gibborim sensed he was a nephilim and Bariel figured he’d try to add him to the ranks.”

  Eli sniffed in agreement, his gaze drifting back to Dan. “Exactly. He wanted him to use the sword.”

  “Right. He told Dan he had to use it in defense of his kind,” I said. “He wanted him to use the black sword to kill a magister, as if it would mark him as one of them if he did.”

  “Then that proves it.” Eli huffed, annoyed. “I can’t believe I didn’t consider it before.”

  I looked from Eli to Dan and back again. “What? I’m not following.”

  The angel turned my way. “Last year, I had assumed Rifion must have once been a very powerful seraph to still have the strength to break the chains within a nephilim that leashes its angelic half. Until tonight it seemed that whatever demon was behind the attacks had been simply taking advantage of those nephilim left behind after you banished Rifion, seducing them to fight for him. But the ruined marks and the black swords…it didn’t make sense.”

  “And now it does?” I asked, feeling like a five-year-old being led by the hand to my first day of school.

  “Somewhat,” he said. “Your sword—all illorum swords—come from the same source.”

  “I know, metal forged in the fires of heaven, molecules from this plane and the next, brought together by my will, blah, blah, blah,” I said repeating the melodramatic speech I’d heard a gazillion times.

  “Yes. But do you understand from where those molecules are borrowed?”

  I thought I did. Maybe not. “Uh, no?”

  “The molecules on this plane come from your own body and soul, drawn out by your will. Mostly particles your body has already discarded.”

  “What, like dead skin, and sweat?”

  His brows went high, pleased. “Yes. Exactly.”

  Eww…

  “Molecules from the other plane were given by an archangel.”

  I swallowed hard, already sensing the answer to a question I had yet to ask. “Which archangel?”

  Eli raised his chin. “Michael.”

  Yeah, that’s what I’d figured.

  “When the first of the nephilim stood to fight in defense of God, the archangel broke off a piece of his sword, a piece of his own spirit, and forged a sword specifically for that illorum. It took only a speck of that fractured piece and every sword thereafter has been created in the same fashion and from the same piece of angelic metal.”

  Even mine, I thought, and my mind thrilled at the idea. “Could Michael have unleashed the nephilim’s power without giving anyone a sword?”

  Eli looked back to Dan. “Yes. But it is his sword that marks them and focuses their will.”

  “So you think Michael is behind this?”

  His bright, angelic eyes snapped back to me, brows low. “No. He would never.”

  I raised my hands in surrender. “Okay, sorry. Then it must be another Fallen.”

  “He would have to be very powerful. Even the archangel’s power was taxed to separate a piece of himself to create the swords. Though it was a stretch, I could imagine Rifion might possess the strength to break the shackles within unmarked nephilim. But only an archangel could take a piece of himself—his sword—to create the weapons that mark nephilim and focus their will.”

  “You think those black swords really are marking the gibborim?” I asked.

  “Yes. It’s why Bariel wanted Daniel to use it in defense of his kind—in opposition to God,” he said. “Michael’s swords reflect his spirit. I suspect the black swords do the same for the spirit from which they were taken.”

  “So it’s another archangel, then?”

  “I know of only one archangel who has ever fallen, and Lucifer’s eternal cage is unbreakable except by our Father.”

  Lucifer? A cold chill crept up my spine. I hoped he was right about that. “Well, then maybe another archangel fell that you don’t know about.”

  His worried gaze drifted to Dan, but I could tell his focus was elsewhere, thoughts racing. “The Council would have told us.”

  He didn’t sound sure. “Would they? Once an angel falls they’re written off, shunned. Right? The Council won’t even mention his name again. Would they treat an archangel any differently?”

  “No.”

  “I think you need to have a little sit-down with the big seven.”

  He nodded, his clenched teeth making the muscles in his jaw flex.

  “Emma?” Dan said, groggy.

  “Hey. You’re awake.”

  “Better yet, I’m not dead.” He struggled to push up to his elbows and I crossed the room and sat next to him on the side of the bed.

  “You can thank him for that.” I hiked a thumb back at Eli.

  Dan’s gaze flicked to the angel. “Thanks, man.” Then to me he said, “The other guy, the angel—”

  “Jaz,” I said.

  “Right. Did they really…I mean is he…?”

  “Jazar has returned to the divine ether,” Eli said. “He’s gone.”

  Dan cursed under his breath and fell back against the pillows. “I’m sorry. I hoped if they thought I’d join them, they’d let him go.”

  I rested a hand on his chest, feeling the reassuring beat of his heart. He really was okay. “They wanted his sword. Nothing you could offer would make them give that up.”

  His blue eyes shifted to me. “What happened? I mean, I remember cutting the smug bastard who’d had me on my knees and then I threw you the sword. Did I kill him? How did I get here? And, um…why am I naked?”

  “You did cut him, but not deep enough to do much damage,” I said. “He stabbed you through the heart. Eli got you away from him and brought you here. He saved you, but there was a lot of blood. Your clothes were ruined.”

  Dan blinked—eyelids half closing, looking more tired by the second. His focus shifted to Eli again. “You saved me, or brought me back to life?”

  Eli folded his arms across his stomach. “Your heart had stopped, but your soul still remained.”

  “So I should’ve died.”

  The angel gave a single nod. “Yes.”

  “Is that allowed? I mean, isn’t there som
e divine plan you guys have to stick to?”

  “Does it matter?” I asked. “I mean, who cares? I don’t. He saved you.”

  “And I appreciate it. Seriously,” Dan said. “But I thought you guys frown on that sort of thing.”

  “We do,” Eli said. “There is a natural order to things. And life’s reward is beyond this plane. Many would say I did you no favor bringing you back.”

  “So why did you?”

  Eli’s gaze shifted to me, but he didn’t answer.

  Dan figured it out anyway. “Because Emma asked you to. I get it. Well, thanks again.”

  “It is not that I wish you ill, Daniel. It simply didn’t occur to me to—” He straightened, his gaze shifting away as though something had snared his attention. “Excuse me. I’m being summoned.”

  He was gone before what he said could sink into my head and I was left staring at the empty space where he’d been. There weren’t many things that could summon an angel—God and the Council were the only two that came to mind, and I wasn’t sure if one was any better than the other.

  “What are you doing, Em?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I thought he wasn’t supposed to be your magister anymore.”

  “He’s not,” I said.

  “Then what’s he doing here?”

  “We’re still friends. He…he knew I was in trouble.” I did not want to have this conversation. I didn’t want to tell him that Eli and I had spent the past several hours together cut off from demons, from his brothers, cut off from the world. We hadn’t done anything wrong…not really. It was innocent—just a much-needed escape with a friend. But a guilty sweat chilled at the small of my back anyway.

  Dear God, what am I doing? I pushed to my feet and smoothed his covers. “You should try to get some rest.”

  He grabbed my wrist, stopping my fidgeting. “You’ll make him fall. He’ll do anything for you—it’s like a reflex. You ask and he does it before he can even consider whether he should. If he falls, it will be your fault and you’ll be the one who will have to put him in the abyss. I know you. You won’t put that burden on anyone else.”