“Jaden, know that . . .” he began, and faltered.
“It’s okay, Julian,” she whispered.
Loud bursts of gunfire echoed through the dull, thick air. He cupped her chin. “Know that in another lifetime, you would have been all I needed.”
“Why wait for another lifetime? Why can’t we have our happy ending right now?” She was angry, the tone of her words sharp.
He didn’t answer. The joy of the moment was gone, and he turned from her. It could never happen. His deal was done. “Let’s go.”
The pulsing energy above them was like a beacon that cut through the darkness, and he knew they were close. As they neared the target, he glanced back at Jaden and indicated silence.
The air was thick with the smell of death, of demon and of black magick. He caught trace signatures of both Declan and Ana and knew that they were near.
Sporadic bursts of light rippled across the ceiling, casting macabre shadows in their wake. He heard shouts, screams, and moans of pain and rage.
Julian centered himself, and his senses exploded from within, traveling along an invisible conduit as he searched the immediate area for anything that didn’t belong.
The hairs along the back of his neck stood on end, and he snarled softly, relishing the power that flooded his cells as he whirled around, a dagger held in his hand, a vicious growl escaping from between his lips.
There was no need.
Jaden was already wiping the blood that dripped from her knife. The crimson liquid stood sharply against the never-ending dull of gray and black. His eyes settled upon the body on the ground. It lay at a weird angle, and he marveled at the strength of his woman.
It was a young male, and Cormac’s mark was clear against his pale skin. The sorry bastard never had a chance. He was much too young to resist O’Hara’s pull. His lifeless eyes stared up at Julian, and he shook his head. What a fucking waste.
A fiery scream ripped through the layers of thick air, and his nostrils quivered as the pain continued to pour out into the night. It was a long, drawn-out cry, and it rode the cool thread of air with such sharp madness that he fought the urge to cover his ears.
Jaden took off running before he had a chance to react. He was fast on her heels, adrenaline pumping hard, fueling his muscles into a blur of speed. The two of them covered several hundred yards in seconds. Above them, the gray gave way to light, and suddenly they were in the thick of it.
He saw a large room to the left. The energy thread that hovered overhead surrounded the entire circumference, caressing the walls in a shower of sparks.
Before him was madness.
He pulled up short, his hand on Jaden’s shoulder as they quickly scouted out the scene. The blackness inside of him reveled in the violence in the air, and he felt it expand. All around him was chaos.
His brothers, their women . . . the rest of the team . . . all of them were fighting for their lives. A snarl ripped from his throat as he jumped forward, deep into the fray.
No sense in letting them have all the fun.
“Stay close to me,” he shouted at Jaden, his teeth slashing white as he smiled at her reaction. She flashed him her middle finger before cleanly severing the head of a demon that rushed her from behind.
The woman could clearly look after herself.
“We need to get inside.” His brother Jaxon had his attention, and Julian nodded, slicing his way through the demon wall as he and Jaden fought their way toward the door.
They were the closest.
The demons were desperately trying to prevent them from gaining entrance, yet they were losing the battle. Jaxon and his crew had taken care of all but a few of them. It only confirmed the obvious.
Cormac was inside, and that meant that the fallen was as well.
Jaden leapt over several dead bodies, her gun firing as she did so. Julian followed in her wake, his dagger dripping dark with the foul poison of demon blood as he secured their path.
His chest heaved as he reached the door, and he snarled madly as his fingers gripped the handle. It was painfully hot, a vibrant conduit of energy that shot up his forearm.
His need to get to Azaiel was riding him hard. Everything was so close to being completed.
“Fuck,” he yelled, hissing as he gripped it harder and pushed it open.
Behind him, the noise evaporated into nothing but a mess that was easily ignored. How could it not? The sight before him was sobering.
He felt Jaden at his back, felt her warmth against his skin and the horror in her voice as she ducked around him.
“Oh my God,” she whispered hoarsely.
“God has nothing to do with this.”
An eerie howl whistled through the room, accompanied by a phantom wind that came from nowhere. The corners were in complete darkness, shrouded in mist and fog. The only light was centered in the middle.
Above them, suspended high in the air, was a man, his body bathed in a soft glow that should have been comforting but, instead, was sinister. His arms were spread wide, held aloft by invisible threads as he slowly turned in a circle. His upper body was bare, the lean, muscled lines, however, awash in crimson.
Blood flowed from his hands and dripped from his feet. His head hung low, as if he were unconscious, and as he made a full turn, Julian noticed the large wings that were tattooed upon his shoulders.
His eyes narrowed, and he realized they were not tattoos but an intricate marking that had been carved into his skin with perfect precision.
This was without a doubt Azaiel. The fallen.
The room was encased in iron walls that bled with never-ending water. It was in every miserable corner, the constant cold and wetness.
“Azaiel doesn’t look like he’s loving Vegas so much,” Jaden whispered.
Julian didn’t answer but stepped into the room.
Where the hell were Declan and Ana? He’d expected Cormac to be here as well.
Behind him, all sound ceased. There was no more fighting, no grunts of pain or screams of rage. He glanced back and saw the shock on every single face that filed into the room.
His brothers, their women, Nico, Finn, and Cracker . . . all of them were silent. Ethan Crane seemed a little unsettled at the sight of Azaiel suspended high in the air.
Julian smelled the evil in the air and knew that the shadows hid something dark.
Jagger pushed through and aimed his weapon into the air, but Julian grabbed it. “You will not shoot,” he snapped.
Jagger studied him for several long seconds. “You got a better idea how to get him down from there?”
“Where’s Declan?” Jaden asked, stepping between the two brothers.
“He’s there. Beyond.”
The words were hoarse and fell at them from above. Julian glanced up at Azaiel. The fallen’s eyes were open. They shimmered, their black roundness shot through with gold. It was fucking freaky, and if he had a spare pair of glasses, he’d toss them up pronto.
“And just when I thought this evening couldn’t get any more interesting.”
Cormac O’Hara appeared from the shadows, the invisible cloak of dark slipping from his body as he emerged into the light. His hand was gripped tight around Ana’s neck. Foam fell from the corners of her mouth, and her eyes were dull. Crisp white fangs peeked from between her pale lips, and the sorrow in the depths of her eyes seemed inconsolable.
“Step forward, son. Don’t be shy.”
Julian held Jaden still as Declan slid from between sheets of mist. His face was blank, though Julian felt his anger. His hands were clenched into fists, the lines around his mouth white with tension.
Cormac glanced up at the fallen and smiled wickedly. “Azaiel, are you willing?”
Silence greeted his words. Julian looked sharply at Declan. The sorcerer was staring straight ahead, his eyes not focused on any of them.
Julian was uneasy, not understanding the game. They had the bastard surrounded. He was about to charge forward when Nico snarled.<
br />
He was still in his animal form and barked loudly, his challenge unmistakable.
Cormac didn’t look at the animal. In fact, his eyes never left the body suspended in the air. He flicked his free hand, as if it was an afterthought, and Nico went down. Hard.
The howl that erupted from within the jaguar was bone-chilling, and Jaden fell to Nico’s side.
Cormac continued to stare up at the fallen, the predatory smile never leaving his face. “Azaiel, will you not at least answer me?”
Julian gritted his teeth, letting the anger inside of him burn hard and fast. He chanced a glance at Jaxon. His brother was studying the sorcerer intently, his body shielding Libby. The look on his face was pure hatred.
He wanted to grab the bastard by the throat and squeeze his last breath from him, but he had to be smart. He could feel the seductive shield of magic against Cormac’s flesh, and he knew it was deadly. Cormac had a protection ward in place that was ironclad.
His mind continued to whirl as the drama unfolded in front of him.
He watched as Azaiel gazed down upon Cormac and felt the surge of power that lay within the fallen. It was suppressed somehow, as if it were a capped geyser.
Julian’s eyes fell to the floor and swept over an intricate series of designs. He frowned. They could have been fucking Chinese for all he cared. He needed to figure out how to get to Azaiel.
Cormac suddenly looked away from the fallen and directly at Jaxon. “Libby, why must you hide behind that beast? Will you not show your face?”
A kiss of winter lived in his eyes as Cormac smiled widely and glanced back at Declan. Libby stepped forward, but Julian could tell it was not her own doing. She was being compelled, and Jaxon cursed as she slipped in front of him.
“Your brother won’t cooperate. Declan knows where the portal is or, at the very least, how Azaiel is tied to it.” Cormac grimaced and dug his fingers into Ana’s neck, sliding his hand along the skin that was now slick with her blood, as he pushed her to the floor. “He thinks that as long as he plays his game and keeps this from me, I won’t hurt the vampire.” He laughed softly. “That he can stretch time and somehow defeat me.”
“I hate you,” Libby whispered.
Cormac cocked his head to the side and sighed. “I know.” He spoke slowly, as if lecturing a small child. He dragged Ana along the ground, and Julian growled loudly as he rushed forward, only to be knocked back by the shimmering protection ward that hung in front of them.
Energy sizzled along his skin, burning into Julian’s flesh as he snarled. Declan’s eyes were now completely black, and the air around him began to blur. Cormac couldn’t see it. His focus was on Libby and the vampire.
“Guess I won’t win Father of the Year.” He sighed and shook his head. “Though I do keep my promises. You know this, Libby.”
He winked at Libby, a ghost of a smile playing around the corners of his mouth, and stretched out his fingers as a long, dangerous stake flew from nowhere into his welcoming hand.
Declan’s face was dark and twisted, guttural sounds fell from his lips. His entire body shook.
“I told Declan the vampire would die if he didn’t bow to my wishes.” The sorcerer stilled. “He didn’t believe me.”
All motion ceased. Julian was aware that Jaden was at his side once more, her arm on his as a scream erupted from her throat. All of it echoed in his head as a film of black crept into his vision.
Declan struggled to speak. His face was mottled red, filled with rage. It was obvious he was not in control, but he managed to snarl, “Do not touch her.”
Cormac’s face twisted into a grimace, his voice lowered and fell from his mouth in layers. “Your time is up.”
He pushed Ana down as if she were nothing more than a puppet and, without pausing, plunged the stake directly into her heart.
There was no dramatic ending, no smoke. Her body didn’t dissolve into mist or ash. She just stopped moving.
Julian stared at the vampire in shock as time stilled. The silence in his ears was deafening.
The floor beneath his feet trembled, and the protection ward in front of him shimmered erratically, as cracks began to infiltrate the magick. Cormac leapt from Ana’s body and turned to Declan.
“You would think to challenge me? You’re nothing more than a pathetic shadow of your mother.” He gestured toward Libby. “Both of my offspring have sorely disappointed me. It is a sad truth that the child Logan shows the most promise.”
“You’ll never get near him again,” Jaxon said, his anger barely contained in his words.
Cormac didn’t take his eyes off Declan. “Do not speak to me, Jaguar. Your time is nearly up.”
Cormac held his hands aloft and gently arced his fingers, motioning to the shadows. Loud growls that sounded like crushed glass sliding across chalkboard slid out at them.
Julian pushed Jaden behind him. He recognized the sound.
Azaiel continued to spin in the air, his body picking up speed as he twisted crazily.
The wards that separated them pulsated as Declan’s hands slowly rose. His eyes were now deep crimson. He didn’t say a word as his limbs moved slowly, and he stepped out of Cormac’s compulsion.
The hatred and anger that had lived inside Declan for six months erupted into a cry of pain that echoed inside the room, but it was soon drowned out by the madness that ran at them from the shadows.
The protection wards vanished, and there was nothing between them and four hellhounds.
Chapter 31
Jaden exploded into action, her only thought to protect her mate, but Julian shoved her out of the way. The men rushed forward, ready to form a line of defense.
She had no time to curse their chauvinistic behavior. Skye stood off to the side, her Glock aimed dead center on Azaiel.
“No!” she screamed, and ran toward the eagle knight, knocking the gun from her hand as it discharged, and the round went wild.
Jaden barely missed the fist that flew out at her as the blonde cursed loudly. “What the fuck are you doing? I had him!”
She didn’t have time to explain. “You will not kill him. We need him alive.”
Skye’s eyes flashed, and she spit her words out angrily. “That bastard, you don’t know what he’s done.”
Jaden whirled around. “I understand, trust me, but it’s not gonna happen.”
Everywhere, chaos rained down upon them. Cormac and Declan were locked in a deadly battle, and the men were fighting off the four rabid hellhounds.
The patrons in Black Magick thought they were seeing cutting-edge entertainment. If only they knew. Down here, it was like Buffy had exploded into reality. Who the hell needed late-night cable?
“I think your plan is about to fail.” Skye shoved past her, as Jaden eyed the fallen closely. He was still spinning madly, his arms spread wide. Blood flew from his body as he teetered in the air.
He jerked and fell several feet until he hovered in the air like a grotesque marionette.
Jaden’s eyes fell to the markings on the floor. She had no clue what they meant but knew they’d harm the fallen if he touched them.
She heard Cormac screech in pain, heard Skye curse and Julian shout in rage. She ignored all of it. Crane was off to the side, his cold face set as he aimed his gun.
Azaiel began to free-fall, and she rushed forward, and leapt into the air. The energy that lay upon the markings burned her skin as she sailed over them, and she grabbed Aziel, taking him with her as they tumbled to the ground on the other side.
Pain exploded in her shoulder, fiery hot, and it shot across her body as she landed on top of the fallen.
She’d been hit.
She pushed herself up. Goddamn, but the pain was bad.
Azaiel stared directly at her, the bicolored swirls in his eyes hypnotic. “I will not harm you.” The words echoed inside her head though he’d not opened his mouth to speak.
She felt the world falling away and clung to him desperately. She knew
she needed to protect the fallen until Julian could complete his mission. She had to protect her mate at all costs, even if it meant giving her life.
“Move away from him.” She turned to the side and looked up at Ethan Crane. His face was grim, and a deadly machete was held firm in his hand.
“I will not,” Jaden hissed, barely able to get the words out. “You will not harm him.”
The wolf eyed her as the madness continued all around them. “We came here to take him out, and I’ll put another one of these special bullets through your other shoulder if you don’t get your ass off him.”
Ethan Crane was a singularly focused operative. He meant what he said.
Crimson bled into her line of vision, and she shook her head, feeling the world tip once more. An edge of panic threatened and knew she needed to focus.
She looked across the room and locked eyes with Julian. The rage she saw in the depths of his was startling, and he yelled as he leapt over the dead carcass of one of the hounds, his dagger swinging wide as he cut the head off another.
His mouth was moving, the words were there, but she couldn’t hear a thing.
He charged Crane and slammed into him before the wolf had time to react. The two men rolled across the concrete, and Crane cursed loudly as his foot touched the edge of the etching that lay there.
It was enough. Julian flipped him over and pinned him, his hands going around Crane’s neck, the fingers digging deep.
Her head rolled back, and it was Azaiel who caught her against his chest, held her carefully as the poison circulated through her system. She saw Cormac and Declan locked into a fight to the death, and her soul cried out at all the violence.
She shuddered, and whispered, “Why?”
Because I was weak. Azaiel’s words slipped into her mind, and she heard the world of pain that colored them. With her last bit of strength, she pushed herself up, leaning heavily against Azaiel’s body for support as she looked to the right.
His Darkest Salvation Page 30