by Gina Kincade
It didn’t seem to matter that he’d had his fill of her so recently—his body demanded more. He let his hands roam over the damp skin on her shoulders and pushed the cream towel down, exposing her pert, rosey-nipples and breasts. His hands roamed over the tantalizing mounds, massaging them until she groaned into their kiss. She broke the kiss and pushed him backwards onto the bed, straddling her body over his, pressing her bare core against his breeches.
She began to move, a slow and sensual grind of her hips when a blaring alarm tore through the room, jarring his senses awake from the desire induced haze. Audrey’s face morphed into utter panic as the sound continued to chime throughout the room.
“The tracker,” he said as he carefully rolled out from under her, missing the feel of her body against his the moment he did. His prick was half-up in his breeches, and he growled at the inconvenience of the timing.
“This is real then?” the terror rang in her words, far louder than the device Layel and his men had created about the city.
“Very much so. It has been set up for some days now, just quiet.” He shoved his hand into his trousers to adjust his aching shaft and turned, wrapping his hands around her shoulders and kissing her, hard and hungry.
It was a goodbye, just in case.
Without a word, he grabbed his goggles and weapon off the dresser and bolted out of the door. They were four levels above the lab, above where the device that tracked the demons was currently housed. When he slammed through the door to the stairs, he took them three at time, the occasional jolt tearing through him as his feet connected with the concrete.
We must get that bloody lift operational. Pulling on his goggles, Thomas tucked the gun into his trousers as he continued to rush through the various levels of the guild.
As he threw open the door to the level with his office, the hunters’ quarters and the lab, the sound of the alarm grew far stronger. While it had been set to only go off in his chambers and this level, he had a feeling others above might hear, but he couldn’t worry upon it then.
Louis and Antonio were coming out of the lab as he entered. He shoved past them and raced towards the machine, the one that was able to tap out the location of the demons in a code. Layel had imbued the crystals that lay around the city with his blood, and among all its other powers, Angel blood could sense other demons. All demons could, actually, but they’d only had his to work with. Communicating, in a sense, with the magnetic fields around them, the crystals were able to send a chime to them. By the time it reached the tracker component, the longitude and latitude were scrawled out, based on which direction the signal originated.
“Bloody hell,” he whispered. The demons were right outside, and there were too many kinds. He read name after name—Thrasher, Ravener, Fallen—and dread filled him. They were not prepared for an attack of that number. They would not make it through the battle alive.
Shoving Louis, who had stepped in front of him, out of the way he raced into his office and pulled the gemstone from the drawer.
“Layel!” he roared before dropping the precious stone and rushed back to the lab.
“Where are the hunters?”
“They’ve gone out. We don’t have enough guns, we couldn’t help,” Antonio responded.
“Stay here. Whatever happens, remain here until the device ceases to chime. It will be over then, one way or another, it will be over. Without you, without the things Layel has taught you, we cannot build again.”
Both men nodded, and Thomas was off, racing back towards the stairs and what might be his very messy end, once again cursing that they had not finished the lift.
AUDREY STOOD PRECISELY where Thomas had left her, naked in the center of their room. Her body shook, tears tracked down her face, and she cursed. She’d wanted to help, but there was nothing she could do. She scarcely knew how to handle a gun of the times, and she would be nothing more than a casualty if she ventured down to the lab to see where the danger was.
But the danger was what had her frozen in place. She had meant what she’d said to Thomas. They had been through so damned much. A lesser couple would not have survived. They were not a lesser couple, though. She had grown up in the hands of servants, left to basically fend for herself, and Thomas was strong of heart and mind. He was leading a secret sect and saving them all.
They might be dysfunctional, but they were strong, and they were in love.
“You need to move, Audrey. Get clothing on, and once the alarm halts, go to the labs as quickly as you can. Standing here staring at the door will certainly not make it open. It will not ensure Thomas walks back through it either.”
The thought was sobering as she spoke it, but she began to move. One foot in front of the other, she forced herself to move, forced herself to shut out thoughts of anything that did not pertain to dressing. Petticoat, corset, knickers . . . .
She dressed, awkwardly without the help of a servant, and the blasted alarm was still rattling through the room. The demons were still alive. She closed her eyes and sucked in a deep breath. She regretted not being trained, regretted not being able to help.
Absentmindedly, her hand moved over her stomach, and she realized that she would not have been permitted to help, even if she had known. She was with child, and as much as she would have wanted to help, she would have wanted to keep her babe safe first.
Turning, she felt the cold numbness of loss closing in on her, as if the battle was over and the men dead before they’d even likely made it out of the building. She shrieked as she caught sight of a figure in the looking glass in the corner of the room. Great white wings with streaks of grey stretched to the ceiling.
Another Angel.
She snapped her eyes shut and closed her mouth, not wanting to draw any more attention to herself.
“You are Audrey then?”
His voice was like the indulgent slide of chocolate cake or champagne. She nodded, feeling the pull of compulsion, even though her eyes were not upon him.
“Who are you?”
“I am part of Layel’s fighting sect. He sent me to see to it that you are not considering something foolish. Which wouldn’t be an issue to contend with, if he’d kept his bloody prick tucked away and his damned mouth shut,” the Angel added bitterly.
“Well he did not, and I have no intentions of leaving this room until that noise ceases. However, if you are one of Layel’s kind, why in the bloody hell are you in here with me? Is it not your duty to protect humans? I am tucked away on an upper floor of an imposing structure. I do not need protecting. Get out to the others. Help the others.”
She was shouting, and still hardly louder than the device going off around them. Her body heaved from the amount of anger coursing through her. The man did not speak for a moment, and she almost opened her eyes to see if he had paid her any mind at all.
“I can see why he sent me, you have spirit, little human.”
“Yes, well, I’m about to take out the goggles my husband made certain I had and slice you with a dagger if you do not get to them, now!”
A melodic chuckle passed betwixt them. “Very well, my place is in battle. If you do not remain here, you are endangering the unborn child that might hold Angel blood. We hold birth sacred, do not disregard that.”
When the room was silent, save for the alarm, for a few moments, she opened her eyes. The Angel was gone. She sat on the edge of the bed, trying to force herself to stay calm.
Layel had told others about the Alliance then. She blew out a deep breath and felt a shiver break out over her skin. The men stood a chance now, the Angels were on their side.
Chapter Twenty
His eyes passed over the area just in front of the guild doors and he cursed—a bellowing sound that cut through the eerie silence of the evening. The guild district was very rarely quiet, although, he was hardly ever outside at half past two in the morning. Still, with the way the alarm had rung, he’d expected sounds of some sort—angry, violent ones at that.
&n
bsp; All he could hear was the typical pitter-patter of rainfall onto the cobblestone. Clouds obscured the sky, and mist clung to the ground, rising to about knee level. The perfect night for a demon attack, he thought wryly as he took the steps down from the main doors to the street.
The Textile Guild on one side rose like a dark castle into the night, silent and imposing. Turning his head, he narrowed his eyes as he stepped towards the Carpenter’s Guild. Slowly, he rounded the corner and cursed when he did. He’d found them, and the sight was certainly not a blessing, but a curse.
Three mutilated yellow bodies oozed black blood onto the ground, ichor that was gliding past his feet, thanks to the soft rain. Gerard stood, back ramrod straight, over Jules. His sword lay on the ground, partially clasped in Jules' hand, and two crystal guns were in his hands. Jules lay bleeding as well, a gash across his midsection, so deep Thomas feared the man would not recover. His skin was paling, but his eyes were open, and that was a miracle. Thomas raced, feet slamming into the puddles, over to where the two hunters stood.
“Is that all?” he whispered into the darkness.
Gerard said nothing but lifted his hand and pointed to the side of the building. Raveners crawled over every space that Thomas could see. He felt bile rise in his throat as he looked at the demons. They’d been taught about the bloody highborn demons, but so far, they had not been a threat. Six arms attached to the building from each demon, their round black heads a sharp contrast to the bright red of the rounded, sectioned abdomen. Fangs glistened in the silvery moonlight, highlighting the sharpness and poisonous saliva that dripped off. If ever there was a reason to hate spiders, the Ravener Demon might be the cause.
Damn near thirty and two of the bastard demons scuttled over and down the side of the building, racing towards them as quickly as they could with the wetness slicking the stones. If any inside heard the poke of the demon’s feet on their building, no candles were lit. Thomas felt his hands trembling, the gun uselessly flopping side to side. He’d stood firm against the Fallen just a week prior, but this seemed so much worse.
“Keep him safe,” he looked down at Jules, “shield him in any way that you might. I will see to his injuries, but those Raveners are not all that are coming. I took down a pack of Imps just in front of the Guild, a man lay dead on the steps. I did not know who he was, so I flashed him to the castle for the king to guard until we are through.” Layel’s voice suddenly sounded beside them.
Thomas flicked his gaze to the demon. The Angel, he corrected himself. Layel might be a demon, but he was nothing like the things that sought to destroy humanity, and because of that, Thomas would not think of him as such again. Layel’s white wings appeared untarnished by the falling rain, and his eyes had a murderous glint in them. Thomas watched as Layel bent to heal Jules, but a terrifying hiss sounded through the night as the Raveners leapt from the building and landed, mere meters, from where they stood.
Zings sounded, and flashes of light lit up the narrow section they stood in. Gerard fired shot after shot, but the demons kept coming, kept advancing. It was something out of a nightmare, one far worse than any he could have imagined. They scurried quickly, fangs extended and jaws opened wide. Some dropped quickly, others raced onwards, and Thomas rolled to the side to dodge one as his own beam razored off two limbs. It did not slow that particular Ravener down, and it was upon him before he could move again. He felt tearing pain as teeth latched onto his ankle. Poison pumped into his body even as he kicked his foot and shot down at the demon. The purple crystal beam sliced straight through its head, disengaging the fangs as it crumpled, dead.
“Move out!” Layel shouted.
Thomas dared to turn his eyes from the battle and spied Jules getting to his feet, sword flashing in the moonlight and glistening from the rain as he swung it, severing a Ravener in half. Ichor sprayed into his mouth, and he gagged and closed his eyes, missing the next demon to race up to him.
“Focus!” Layel demanded as a Ravener almost slammed into Thomas’ chest.
With a curse, he jammed his fist into the hard shell of the demon’s head. Pain laced up his arm, but the creature was almost puzzled that it had been attacked. Its deadly black eyes stared into Thomas’. He stabbed into it with the gun as he fired, holding the trigger and sending a never-ending singeing beam into the demon. Finally, it fell off him, dead before it crashed into the ground. The smell was putrid, and he felt his body roll with nausea.
He’d never been more thankful for the gun as he heard the sounds of battle all around him. Over and over, the demons came. Guns were fired, beams sliced through the air, swords were swung, and if it was Layel, their enemies’ appendages were brutally torn off. Thomas could feel himself growing hazy as the poison worked its way up from his ankle. His vision blurred, but still, he fought on. The blast of his gun went too far left twice, and he dropped it to the ground, jerking the dagger from his boot and hunching over as he threw himself onto the back of the nearest Ravener. His knife struck true, and yet another fell.
He was covered in ichor, his own blood splattered on the ground mingling with what hadn’t washed away. His chest heaved, and he felt himself start to crash. His knees buckled, but before his arse hit the ground, hands grabbed him. The familiar sensation of warm, blinding light filled him, and he closed his eyes, embracing it. When he opened them, Layel’s bright eyes were dark black, and his fangs were out as he looked down at Thomas.
“Is it done?” he asked shakily.
“Not even close, my friend,” Layel said reluctantly as he helped him to stand.
Two Thrashers were racing at them. Gerard launched himself in the path of one, his gun searing through flesh. The demon howled and gnashed its teeth at Gerard, grabbing hold of the man’s shirt. Thomas made a note to think of a way to disguise armor under their clothes for protection as he watched Jules appear to fall from the sky and slice the creature as far in half as his sword would drag through the body.
Layel stepped in front of the other, and with what looked like very little effort, ripped the creature’s head from its torso. Ichor flew through the night, mixing with the water and landing on all of them, as well as the stone street. The deformed yellow body twitched three times before growing still.
Gerard and Jules walked towards Layel, and Thomas did the same. His breathing was shallow, and he couldn’t seem to take deep enough breaths to still his rapid heart. The men around him were as tired and bloody as he was. None of them had walked away without injury, but they were all walking away, and that was the point that mattered.
Jules mumbled something Thomas didn’t understand. Drawing his eyes away from the street as best as he could while hunched over sucking in air, he saw something that puzzled him. Audrey and a few other women were walking towards them, seemingly unmiffed by the scene around them. How could the fight be going if the women were walking so peacefully? There was nothing akin to terror in her eyes, and because of that, fear welled up inside of him. They shouldn’t be outside, shouldn’t be alone in this hell. Never mind the bodies strewn about that their eyes should never have to see.
His feet began to run towards Audrey, but Layel flashed in front of her, his Angelic blade chopping her head from her body. Thomas roared, ready to kill Layel. He whirled on the man he’d just made a small peace with, dagger bloody, but ready. His eyes caught sight of the headless body at Layel’s feet, and he paused, it wasn’t Audrey. Puckered brown skin with boils covering it lay on the ground. Illusion Demon.
“Thank you,” he said with a nod, still clutching the dagger, ready to take out the rest of the women walking towards them.
He wasn’t certain just what the other four women were, but he felt taken aback. Irresistible lust flashed through him. His body hummed with a desire so intense, it almost crippled him where he stood. Large, full breasts bounced seductively as the remaining women walked past. His mouth watered and he could think about nothing but wrapping his hands in the nearest woman’s fair blonde locks and driving his
prick deep inside of her body.
“Succubus,” Gerard shouted from yards away, a purple beam slicing through the night.
Thomas shook his head, clearing the toxic Succubus’ talents as he slashed at the woman closest to him. Blood as red as his own spilled over his hands, and for a moment, he doubted what he knew to be true, he thought all demon ichor was black. As the scent of musk reached his nose, his prick jerked to life, but Thomas knew better. He kicked the toe of his boot into her body, knocking her backwards a bit before he straddled her and struck clean through her chest with his dagger. Her black eyes flashed a serene golden brown before they closed.
“Fallen, are Fallen coming?” Jules asked, wheezing from exertion and likely fighting off the lust that coursed through him.
“I do not believe so. Seraphina does not have the army to waste. My brethren and I have dispatched too many these past years. She did not think you to be a threat, she was wrong. If Fallen were coming, they would have led the charge, ensuring that none others would have been needed.”
Thomas looked around, hideous spiderlike bodies lay dead, as if a plague had dropped upon the streets of London. Not one, but two Illusion Demons were on the ground as well. Four sinfully seductive bodies lay still as death, bleeding red blood, and not ichor—proving the creatures were part human. A strange heaviness sat upon his chest, not the joy he would have expected to feel at once again rising above the menace that threatened the city. Instead, all he saw was death. They would have to grow in number if they were to truly stand a chance. Without Layel’s healing and pure power, they would likely be among the dead themselves. London was safe that night, but there were many more coming, and Thomas could not help but worry as to who would watch over them as they watched over London.