by JL Madore
It couldn’t be Austin. She was safe. She had to be—
The right cross to his jaw landed like an anvil against his face. Brennus squeezed his face with iron fingers and pulled him in nose-to-nose. The soldier swung a brown wig like a pendulum beside their cheeks. “It’s not her, Z. It’s the Cherub. Not yer human. They’re fucking with ye.”
The words congealed in his sloppy head and he inhaled deep. The intake of oxygen did nothing to tame the quakes raking his body.
Kyrian eased the female’s corpse down to the ground and he took another look. It wasn’t Austin. The relief he felt was short lived. The female he’d been searching for, the angel taken from his club, was dead and by the way her puce-colored skin sagged over the bone, she’d been bled dry.
With a curse, he pulled out his phone and sent word. Missing Cherub’s body: recovered. This location.
Auriel would wage war on those responsible. There was no stopping it. As he scrolled back to his main screen he noticed a missed call from Danel—
A shuffling noise in the closest building had them on high alert. The hum of an electric door opener sounded. Zander dove for cover, just as the building hemorrhaged Dark Ones.
Brennus whistled through his teeth beside him. “Anybody order an invasion?”
Zander got his groove on and launched out into the mix. He’d been spoiling for a fight for days and these hopeless odds were just what he needed. Nothing cleansed the soul like a good wholesome slaughter. Dozens of Darkworld scum flooded the wharf, and he had to laugh. It had been centuries since he’d fought in a true war and never one where he could be killed.
Kinda got the adrenaline pumping.
A series of arrows whizzed past Zander’s ear. Hark was the group’s bowman and gifted with perfect trajectory. To prove Zander’s praise, three demons crumpled to the ground before him, the ichor smeared shaft and point of each arrow coming out through their backs.
Four more in black fatigues split rank and flanked Zander from all sides. One grabbed his arm while the other tried to take him to the ground. Screw that. He rammed his dagger through one, slit the throat of the second, and then nailed his hat-trick. Violence flowed through him with an ease that chilled him to the bone. Grabbing the wrist of the last attacker in their little quad-cluster, he twisted the guy into a choke hold. One satisfying crack later and the demon fell to the heap with the others, his head hanging limp.
Lightning cracked in the black velvet night. Zander fed on the power of the energy bolt and kept at it.
One of the strange red metal weapons fell beside his boot. He snatched it up and the blade sizzled against his flesh. Cursing, he flung the thing and shook his hand. The burn looked like acid had eaten his palm.
Heavy footsteps approached from in the shadows, pounding hard, coming fast. Switching his dagger to his other hand, Zander bounced on the balls of his feet, bracing for another wave. Closer. Closer. About to launch, Z realized the male who burst into the moonlight wasn’t the enemy.
“Danel, come to join the fun?”
The Persian was the color of fog.
“D? What’s doing?”
The warrior outed his phone, an image of Austin glowed bright and beautiful in the darkness. The caption leapt off the glossy screen. The Sumerian’s weakness: Austin Navarro.
And it begins.
Stryker stood on the edge of the rooftop, watching the chaos unfold on the vast wharf. The soldiers below cast deep shadows. The moon’s glow and the curling silver surface of Lake Ontario lent the only light to the gloriously violent scene.
“They understand to wait for all Nephilim reinforcements before exposing our numbers?”
Devious nodded. “The second team is concealed. They’ll hold position.”
Stryker rolled his shoulders, stretching and pulling at the anticipation building in his muscles. He raised the new Dweorg crossbow and stroked her smooth shaft. The eerie warmth of the bolts lying in wait amazed him, the metal a living, a seething entity. Lowering his head, he aligned his eye with the high-powered scope and inventoried the group below.
“Where is the Sumerian?”
A female chuckled behind him. “Scurrying amongst the dumpsters with the other rats.”
Stryker’s aim shifted and he cranked around on his spine.
Ahh, his offspring and her bitch-Queen mother materialized wearing, of all things, white battle leathers. Knives came out and so did a pair of matching smiles. He dropped his aim and motioned for Devious to lower his weapon as well.
“Come watch history in the making ladies? Bear witness to the first garrison of Watchers getting what they’ve long deserved. An end to their duty of death. Then, once we’ve proven it can be done, we’ll move from city to city until the Watcher’s of the Gray are no more.”
His child stepped forward, her stride sure and solid, her grin laced with an evil he admired. “Mother and I added a little extra torture for the mighty Sumerian—his human beloved being slaughtered. Poor bastard won’t know what hit him.”
Really? Was it the woman he’d been bound to the other night? He wondered again about the Sumerian’s reaction to the woman. There was something there, but love? “What do you know about such things, Emmalixa?”
“Thrash,” she growled, asserting her Hunter’s name. “I know a lot more than you give me credit for. I’ve been working as a human in their club for months. I know the ins and outs of their lives and their business.”
What? He glared at her mother. “You allow our child to associate with Watchers? What if they detected her deception?”
“She shielded herself, lover. She’s got her father’s charms.”
“Shielded? But they are assassins. Have you no idea the danger she—”
“I’m not her,” Emmalixa snapped. “I’m not your precious princess, Cassiane, living in a castle, twirling her hair. I’m a hunter, old man. I earned my name in battle and in life.”
Stryker raised his palm to slap the disrespect from her. Her block came up with a speed that stopped him short. She was his daughter yet so much more. Strong, driven, and by the fury in her dark citrine eyes—his eyes—she was dangerous.
Stepping to the edge of the roofline, his child peered over at the melee below. The numbers had multiplied, the baritone grunts and growls rising in the night air to meet them. A flare of pride ignited deep in Stryker’s chest as he surveyed the battle in progress.
Raising the bow once more, he screened the crowd through the night vision scope. “Five of the seven Toronto Watchers are below. Once the Egyptians get here—”
He raised his hand to order the second team forward and paused. A change in the atmosphere burned on the edge of his consciousness. He watched and waited. Three figures appeared from within a blinding shaft of descending light.
“Stryker?” Xamia raced to his side and searched the wharf. The three newcomers glided into the fray, each producing a flaming sword, each spreading a vast wingspan of shimmering silver, and each cutting swaths through his mighty army.
“By the Dark Prince’s fury,” his daughter gasped. “Those aren’t Nephilim. You’ve incurred the wrath of The Seven.”
The Seven? Impossible. But it wasn’t.
Fifty feet below, three of the seven mightiest warriors to ever walk the realms had joined the opposition. The archangels had descended and in that moment his easy triumph lost.
Xamia squeezed his arm. “Best you pull back your second squad and regroup.”
“No.” Three sets of eyes stared at him. All his efforts. All the men who trusted him to lead their families from starvation. He would not back down now. No. This wasn’t over. He would take down the Watchers.
Snapping into action he turned to his second in command. “Tell the second group to attack and keep the Watchers busy. Thrash went to all the trouble of arranging a special surprise for the Sumerian and his human. I wouldn’t want it to go to waste.”
The hum in Zander’s head exploded. It pierced his skull and flooded hi
s body. Austin—his Austin—was being targeted by the Darkworld. Another look at Danel’s phone and his control snapped entirely. His beast roared, its tether as effective as a paper leash on a raging bull. Mine.
There was no denying it. Austin was his love . . . his life.
He turned, smashing his fist into the face of a yellow-eyed Shedim. His opponent’s neck snapped and the guy fell against the dumpster. “I gotta go. Tell Michael—”
Red-hot agony tore through his cells, swirled in his chest and imploded inside him. His system shattered like a million shards of glass. He dropped to his knees. No.
Austin needed him. His men needed him. Hark was down and three fuckers were dragging Brennus toward the water.
The garage door on the next building hummed and vomited another horde of Dark Ones. He fought to stand, sure he was being cleaved in two. His legs gave way and he ass-planted back on the pavement.
Danel and Kyrian closed ranks, shielding him as another round of body tremors hit. Fury erupted. Being helpless put them at risk. He roared into the night. Anger, purer than anything he’d ever felt seeped and spread through him, ice surged and burned through his cells.
The first bone snaps ricocheted in his skull. He twisted, screaming as his spine . . . his shoulders and then his ribs shattered from within. Voices cried out. From a great distance, he heard an inhuman howl echo into the night. It tore from his own throat. His breath escaped in bursts of air.
Lady Divinity, please . . . I must save Austin.
He couldn’t focus. Dagger points punctured his eardrums. His skull pounded as his lungs caught fire. He torqued onto his stomach, his back on fire.
In the hurricane that consumed him, he focused on Austin: what she looked like dancing in his office, her voice as she rasped his name as he came inside her. He loved her so damned much. He claimed her.
And now the prophecy claimed him.
Someone clasped his hand. “Adelphos, we’re here, my brother. We’re all right here.”
Kyrian knelt on the pavement inches from his face, looking like hell. “Hang on, Z, Gabriel is coming. He’s—”
He couldn’t die now. “Austin—” he gasped. “Save Austin.”
His skin split and peeled back like an onion. His knees came up tight and he screamed again. Bones broke through his skin, blood streamed hot down his sides and pooled under his hip. The pain was cosmic. It sent his molecules splintering in every direction. It obliterated all thought, all sound.
And then . . . he blacked the fuck out.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Austin glanced up from the couch as the song on the radio flickered. Brown out? The day had been hotter than blue blazes, maybe the communal demand on AC was shorting things out. She lifted her feet from the floor and shifted the popcorn bowl in her lap. She giggled at herself when her heart pounded.
Who in their right mind got jittery over bad reception? Being mugged had left her feeling off kilter. Stetson growled and a chill shot down her spine. Someone was in the room.
“Who’s there?”
“Austin, don’t freak out.”
Popcorn flew as she jumped off the couch and bolted for the kitchen door. She ran smack into a brick wall. Strong hands steadied her and she staggered back.
No, not a wall. A man. A huge man.
The room spun as he grabbed her. Rough fingers held her chin as her mind and body grew heavy. Fight. She wanted to fight, but couldn’t bring herself to move.
Stetson’s barking was drowned out by thuds of fist to flesh and crunching glass across the room. A muscled arm came around her back, supporting her as her mind slipped, relaxed, unlocked—
The pain that shot behind her eyes buckled her knees.
“Zander?”
The man grabbed her wrist and placed her hand to his throat. The studded, leather collar set her world back on its axis. “Phoenix?”
A thunderous crash brought footsteps and a sprawling tangle of men. Knocked to the ground, she scrambled to get up. Stetson was losing his mind. Austin cursed, not knowing which way to turn.
With her hand on the wall, she hurried toward the side door. Someone grabbed her around the waist and lifted her feet from the ground. She flailed and flung her fists, connecting in throbbing blows.
“Now, now,” a man said, his voice exploding in swipes of white claws and fangs. She grappled at the walls of the foyer. Tried to grab hold of the doorframe. “Settle down, little sheep, or Devious will do something unpleasant to you.”
“Seth!” Night air filled her lungs. “Phoenix!”
Something hard struck her head and the world tilted. Bruising fingers forced her into the car. She pushed off the seat, her trembling hands scrabbling for the door. The car lurched. A heavy arm slammed her in the chest, knocking her against the seat. After another attempt at yanking the door handle, a sickening scent filled the air and her nightmare faded.
Zander’s eyes opened slow and lazy, staring at the panicked faces of his men. So, he hadn’t died after all. Huh, waking up in a fog was becoming a habit he’d rather not form. Three times in one week seemed a bit ridiculous. Before he moved he took a mental inventory of all his parts and pieces. The pain had receded like a cool evening tide. It left him void of sound and sense. What the hell hap—
“Austin.” He lurched up. The alley spun at such a tilt he fell back to the asphalt. Screw that. He didn’t have time to play amusement park inside his own head. Had he survived what the scriptures foretold? He took another run at getting vertical.
Brennus grabbed his elbow and helped him to his feet. “Give yerself a moment, lad. Ye’ll be no good to anyone if ye fall on yer face. The twins have gone to secure yer female. Danel’s bringing the truck.”
“Welcome back, Adelphos.” Kyrian said. “You scared the shit out of us.”
“It was no picnic on my end either.”
“No one will ever argue.” Sliced and bleeding, the Greek looked like hell. They all did.
Zander forced his legs to hold his weight and drew a stabilizing breath. “How’d we do?”
“The suits turned the tide but I wouldn’t expect them to help twice. They no sooner collected the Cherub’s remains and they were vapor.”
There was more Kyrian wasn’t saying. His gaze was weary and anxious. “Tell me.”
The Greek’s mouth moved like he wanted to speak but nothing came out. There seemed to be a traffic jam on the guy’s cognitive highway.
“Kyrian, spit it out.”
“Wings. My man, you’ve sprouted feathers.”
Wings? He shrugged off the hold of those steadying him. Once the seas stopped rolling beneath his shitkickers, he flexed his back and what do you know, new appendages opened like an oriental fan. Well, that explained a lot.
Sleek, black, and heavy as fuck, the things were wicked cool. Heavy footsteps thundered behind him and Zander turned. “What happened?”
“Austin—” Danel growled. “They took her.”
Zander wasn’t tracking. He flexed his wings and took a few practice steps. “Activate the GPS on my phone. Gather the men. Those who are able can follow.”
“Wait, Z,” Kyrian said, squaring off with him. “They could be anywhere.”
Oh, he would find her. Making love to her and claiming her had branded their essence as one. He sensed her, scared and alone. Driving to search the city would take far too long. His new mode of transport would be twice as fast. If he could figure out how to steer.
“Zandros, wait!” Kyrian gripped his arm. “Give us ten minutes and we’ll go together.”
“No,” he said, yanking his arm back. He patted his hips and checked his weapons were in place. “Austin needs me.”
“She needs to be rescued, not you barreling into a trap alone and disoriented. You just keeled over and sprouted wings.”
Zander launched into the night sky.
Shielding his presence, he struggled and fought to stay in the air. He’d thought his archangel genes would find flying inst
inctual somehow. Wrong. With cold wind blasts smacking him in the face, his eyes watered and his limbs flapped around. He felt like an uncoordinated chicken with a broken wing.
Oh, wait, chickens don’t fly. Yep, well, that’s exactly how he felt then.
Ripping at an awkward tumble through the growing darkness, Zander veered east and tried to stay above the Don Valley treetops. When he looked right, wind tunneled into his ear canal and when he scanned the ground below, all that came back to him was a whole lotta nature.
Auurgh—a white-hot agony speared his body. His flight faltered. Was the prophecy taking another run at him? He cursed. The pain was outside himself yet part of him.
Austin. They were hurting her.
The thundering whoosh of his wings cutting through air drowned out the thrumming in his skull. Austin’s pain scored his soul. His animal side reared, pitching him into an absolute rage. The attack about to be unleashed on this motherfucking Shedim would become legend.
Lightning cracked. Zander willed his energy to focus on Austin and a lightning bolt pierced the night sky. It struck the ground below and that’s where he landed. Crashed, but he didn’t give a fuck. Back on his feet, he picked up his weapons and pushed through a stand of trees. The air was rife with hellfire stench.
Their kill lair was close, he just had to find it.
Austin cried out, thrown hard to the damp ground. Her neck ached, torn where her abductor bit her and her right hand was badly sprained or maybe broken from resisting the attack. She patted the ground with her left. She’d landed on a lumpy pile of skins. No. Not skins. Dead animals.
With a shiver, she shoved herself off what seemed to be a half-eaten deer or maybe a large dog. She inhaled and gagged. It reeked like the warehouse but beyond that, the space was dank and smelled of pine and earth.
“A night full of surprises,” a woman said. That drip of disdain rang familiar—the Darkworlder she’d met at Zander’s club, Emma. “My father and his men are pleased to have you.”
Have as in welcome, as in dinner, or as in the biblical sense? Austin wasn’t keen on any choice. “Your father? You mean you’re one of those Shedim killers?”