Demon of Vengeance: Chronicles of the Fallen, Book 4

by Brenda Huber

  A second later, a seething mass of plasma spun itself into a ball. That ball, bright and hot, floated above his hand for a moment, just long enough for him to see she was watching his every move. With a snap of his wrist, a clench of his fist, he extinguished the ball.

  “A few angels can do something remarkably similar, only they call it Angelfire. Instead of orange plasma, like ours, theirs are more of a pale blue. Almost, but not quite, white. Apparently Gideon’s mate Maggie—she’s a Halfling, by the way—can form Angelfire. You see, sometimes, abilities are hereditary, and her father is—catch this—none other than the legendary Archangel Michael, and Angelfire is one of his little tricks.”

  He waited for a long moment, but she remained silent.

  Where to go from here?

  “So, back to Xander. He used to be a real badass,” Sebastian went on, warming to his subject. “And then he met his match. He mated a Guardian.”

  Now he stopped, and he waited.

  After a few minutes of weighted silence, Phoebe rolled to face him, though she still didn’t speak. Sweet progress. He savored it.

  “Kyanna is the Guardian of the Arc Stone. She’s…almost as stubborn as you.”

  Was that…? Could it be? Had she just snorted?

  “She’s feisty and compassionate, smart, and very beautiful.”

  No doubt about it. She’d just snapped her teeth at him. He grinned. “And she has Xander wrapped irrevocably around her little finger. You two are going to be like two peas in a pod, I can see it already.”

  Still, she remained impassive.

  Okay. What else?

  “Niklas’s mate Carly is human. She’s a little spitfire. Fragile, but she has the heart of a lion, that one. You’ll like her too. And Gideon’s mate, as I mentioned earlier, is a Halfling.”

  Finally—finally!—she made a tiny sound. Half a murmur, really. Nearly imperceptible. But a sound, nonetheless.

  He rolled to face her, at least a foot of empty bed separating them. But the intimacy of the dark made if feel like they were the only two people in the world.

  “A Halfling is someone of human and angelic descent.” Sebastian reached out cautiously, and brushed her hair over her shoulder, then slowly settled his hand flat on the bed between them. He didn’t get bitten, so he figured he was on the right track. “I haven’t met Maggie yet, but she must be very special if she managed to break Gideon’s curse. Gideon was the Demon of Temptation, in case I forgot to mention it.”

  The shadows deepened between her eyebrows.

  “Or maybe it was his curse you were wondering about.” Sebastian reached for her once more, this time sliding the back of his finger along her cheek. “Gideon was cursed to never know the touch of another. Long story, but in a nutshell it was a bad situation all around. Dangerous. That went on for nearly two hundred years. We all tried to help him find a way around the curse, but nothing worked.”

  Sebastian’s focus drew inward for a moment as he remembered how close Gideon had been to plunging past the point of no return the last time Sebastian had seen him. “I must admit, I’m anxious to meet the Halfling.”

  Another sound, maybe a growl?

  Sebastian licked his lips. What now? He was running out of Fallen to tell her about. “I bet you’re wondering about War, right?”

  Once more, the shadows between her brows deepened.

  “Well, Mikhail—that’d be the Demon of War—is a difficult guy to know. Very antisocial. I’d like to say his bark is worse than his bite, but I’d be lying.”

  Crickets in the peanut gallery. Sheesh. Tough audience.

  “Mikhail has the gift of healing. I think I already told you that, yeah?”

  Another murmur. This one more definite.

  “What most people don’t know is that he used to be an Angel of Mercy, one of the first in fact. But humankind’s selfishness and greed thinned that flocks ranks. Now, there are but a few left. Anyway, Mikhail lost his faith. And when Mikhail fell, Lucifer was quick to pounce. He gifted Mikhail with his healing hands and—whenever Mikhail wasn’t out inciting war on Earth, decimating the human population—Lucifer forced him to use those hands to revive humans unlucky enough to be dragged or coerced into Hell, over and over and over. Or he’d use those healing hands on the battlefield, reviving those that fought with the least amount of honor, the hardened killer element if you will, after which he would send them back into the world to wreak more destruction.”

  A small sound of distress escaped her. Sebastian reached for her before he stopped to think. The moment he slid her hand into his, he froze, cursing himself. Now she’d pull away. Now she’d sever the connection that had budded to life between them here in the dark.

  But she wound her fingers through his instead and squeezed.

  Breathing a little easier, Sebastian went on with his stories. “Niklas was the first to break with Lucifer’s rule. He’d had enough despotism and couldn’t take it anymore. Maybe it was his ability that drove him to break with the dark prince.”

  Phoebe applied just the slightest bit of pressure. If he hadn’t been waiting for it, he might have mistaken it for a twitch of muscle.

  “Niklas is known as the Seer. He sees emotion, like a rainbow of colors, surrounding a being. Sort of like their aura. But more shifting, more fleeting. Fear, anger, lust, hope…he can see it all. Maybe that was what caused the rift. He could still see the good in people, their love, their hope—pretty much any positive emotion, even through the fear, no matter how hard that being tried to suppress it—even when that being couldn’t decipher it for himself.

  “Anyway, Xander and Niklas had forged a bond in Heaven, and that bond had only grown stronger in Hell as they both faced the same tyranny. Xander knew that Lucifer would send him after Niklas, and so, before the order could be issued, he found Niklas and together they approached a few others. Myself. Gideon and Mikhail.

  “I guess you could say, we were all in the same boat. Or clinging to the sides of it anyway. So together, we escaped Hell. And since that day, we’ve worked to thwart any foothold Lucifer might be trying to gain here on Earth.” He drew a deep breath. “And now we fight against Stolas, too.”

  He fell silent, trying to figure out where to go from here. It would be exceedingly helpful if she’d just tell him what she wanted to know. He frowned. Maybe she just didn’t know what to ask.

  “Every demon has some kind of ability.” Was this the right path to take? He wasn’t certain. He didn’t want to scare her into shutting down on him again, but he also wanted her prepared. Wanted her to know that if she did have some kind of special gift, that she wasn’t alone.

  “But it’s different in every case. There are many, many abilities. But not every demon can do all things. For instance…shimmering. For the most part, all demons can shimmer. However, not every demon can travel between Earth and Hell. And certain species, like Ralsha for example, can’t conjure. But some, like the Ralsha, can spit an acidic venom. Others, like some Animagi can emit poison from their horns. And Carpathï can secrete poison from their fangs during battle.”

  He paused, suddenly overwhelmed by the sheer amount of information she should probably know. “It’d be a damned sight easier if there was some book I could give you to read. Too bad Encyclopedia Britannica didn’t come up with that version…everything you need to know about demons, A to Z.”

  That earned him a puff of breath. Great, now she was laughing at him. Sort of. Well, it was something at least.

  At the end of his rope, he gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Sweetheart, if there’s anything you’d like to know, all you have to do is ask.”

  She remained quiet for so long, he feared he’d pushed her too hard too fast. But then her soft voice broke the stillness, and he could have shouted for joy. “Are there any others…like me?”

  Phoebe waited with baited breath, her hear
t in her throat. She couldn’t believe she was even doing this, asking questions, talking about any of this. Her father must be rolling over in his grave right now. But she couldn’t seem to help herself.

  She fingered the scar on her throat with her free hand. He’d been correct when he’d said she’d have a target on her back. She already did. And people were lining up to take aim, it seemed. So he was right. She wasn’t stupid. And she wanted to survive. She wanted to live.

  So she needed to know.

  And to know, she would have to talk. She would have to acknowledge. She bit her lip and prayed her father, wherever he was, would forgive her for breaking her word.

  “There are other demonesses,” Sebastian began. Phoebe tensed, waiting for him to go on. Why did he sound so reluctant all of a sudden? “But there aren’t many. Female demons are very rare.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, no one really knows for sure. Due to the lack of female demons, male demons mate humans, though not usually with the sole purpose of begetting demon spawn, you understand. But sometimes—on rare occasions—it happens anyway.”

  “Why only on rare occasions?”

  “Human anatomy usually isn’t strong enough to withstand carrying demon spawn to term. And, for whatever genetic reason that spawn is, nine hundred ninety-nine times out of a thousand, male.” He shrugged, but then his expression turned pained. “Because of their rarity…” He trailed off, his tone troubled.

  She squinted at him in the darkness. “Sebastian?”

  “Because there are so few female demons, they’re often captured and…and held against their will. Most are kept secreted away. Bloody battles have been fought over those that have been found, entire legions wiped out either trying to keep a demoness, or trying to steal one away.”

  Phoebe sat up and stared down at him, incredulous. “Are you kidding me?”

  He sat up too, though he didn’t scoot any closer, which was probably a good thing right now. She wasn’t sure how she might react. On top of the wardrobe, the candles flared to life, illuminating the broad expanse of his naked chest. The sheet pooled low in his lap.

  “In my entire life, I’ve only ever seen one demoness…besides you. I only caught a brief glimpse of her, just for a few moments. But I knew if I even acknowledged her I’d be dead before I drew my next breath. She was a prisoner.” He drew a deep, bracing breath. As if he feared her reaction. “Lucifer’s prisoner. She was chained by the neck, wrists, and ankles to a wall in his personal chambers. She was very beautiful, noble and unbroken despite her circumstances.”

  Outrage boiled through her system. “Why didn’t you free her?”

  Now Sebastian seemed to weigh his words carefully. “Because those cuffs weren’t coming off without a key. Lucifer kept that key on his person at all times. And—” Sebastian broke off, rubbed a hand over his eyes.

  “And what?”

  He searched her face, seemed to silently beseech her to hear him out. “I was a different demon then, Phoebe, a hardened soldier who knew that to try to free the female would have resulted in certain, and very painful, death for me…probably before I’d have had the first cuff free. To my way of thinking at the time, no female was worth dying over.”

  The way he watched her gave her goose bumps. She found herself asking, “And now?”

  “Now I know better. Now…now I have a female of my own.”

  Phoebe wrapped her arms around her waist, and chewed on her lower lip. She couldn’t deal with his claim right now. There was just too much to wrap her mind around. What he said about Lucifer killing him before he could free the female was probably true. But still, it bothered her that another of her kind would be treated like that. That she too could potentially be treated that way if she were discovered.

  “How long ago?”

  “Close to five hundred years, I guess.”

  She drew a steadying breath and tried to take all the passing years into account.

  “I heard rumors that the female eventually escaped and slipped away to Earth,” Sebastian said.

  “What happened to her?” Was she still alive? Was there a possibility Phoebe might find her? Talk to her? Learn from her?

  “I’m sorry.” Sebastian shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  Her hope deflated, Phoebe sank back on the bed. She didn’t resist when Sebastian settled beside her and drew her close. She even rested her head on his shoulder, settled her hand over his heart. The circle of his strong arms shielded her, and she felt…comforted. Safe.

  The candles snuffed out, and darkness plunged them into that strange intimacy again. She found herself drawing slow designs on Sebastian’s chest with light fingertips. But he didn’t complain, so she didn’t stop. She lay there for a long time, lost in thought. He must have understood she needed time to process all that he’d told her, because he remained silent.

  “What if I don’t have any special gifts?” She’d voiced the fear aloud before she’d thought to filter. Fear that she did have special abilities, or fear that she didn’t? She wasn’t sure yet.

  Warm lips pressed to her forehead, and his arms tightened around her.

  “Then you’ll still be you,” he whispered against her skin. He was silent for a moment, and then he added, his voice only slightly teasing, “Honestly, I don’t think I’d mind at all.”

  “Why?”

  “Because…if I’m being totally honest…if you don’t have any gifts, then I can keep you out of the fighting, away from danger and safe. And I can continue to provide for you. Maybe someday you’ll start to depend on me. Maybe you’ll even begin to think of me as something you can’t live without.”

  Phoebe caught her lip between her teeth and frowned.

  I think that’s what I’m afraid of the most.

  Chapter Fifteen

  When Phoebe woke the next morning, Sebastian was curled around her once more. He’d tossed his leg over her thighs sometime in the night, caged her in his arms. She didn’t have to tug any sheets this morning to steal a peek; he’d kicked them off in his sleep. And his entire, very naked, very masculine body was on display for her viewing appreciation.

  Still, she kept her focus above his neck. She remembered all too well the consequences of peeking. Look what had happened yesterday. No, no matter how much her body might be aching to melt in to him, to wake him with kisses and see where things went, she couldn’t give in to those urges. She had too much to get done today.

  And until she got her seesawing emotions back under control, having sex with him was just a bad idea, plain and simple.

  Carefully, she shifted and scooted until she’d managed to gain a little room. Then, before he could draw her back like he had the last time, she bolted from the bed and scurried for the stack of clothing she’d set out last night.

  “Whaa? Hm?” His voice was groggy. He blinked at her, squinty-eyed, as he ran a splayed hand up the side of his face and into his wildly mussed hair. “Phoebe?”

  She resisted the urge to shiver as the sound of his voice stroked through her.

  “Time to get up and get moving,” she chirped with false cheer. Never mind the fact that it was still pitch dark outside and the jungle all around them was still asleep. She made short work of dressing, wound her hair up into a bun and shoved her glasses into place.

  “I didn’t hear Ricardo,” he mumbled.

  Throwing his arms wide, fisting his hands, Sebastian stretched, tempting her to look—to ogle—despite her resolve. She caught herself wavering, her focus slipping and sliding down that perfect chest, over those luscious abs, straight to his long, hard—

  Her eyes snapped back to his face.

  “Well, we’re up early.” Perky, perky, perky. Wait, no that didn’t come out right. Or did it? Ugh! “I’ll just go help Marco with breakfast.”

  “Damn it, just give me a second to wake up,
” he growled, grinding his palms against his eyes.

  “No time to wait.” She jerked the tent flap open. “Lots to do.” And then she fled.

  She couldn’t face him this morning. It was even worse than yesterday, and that was right after they’d had sex, for goodness sake. Hot, impulsive, soul-searing sex. But somehow, the connection they’d forged last night was far more…personal. She’d finally acknowledge that she wasn’t human. Not completely. Well, sort of acknowledged. She still couldn’t come right out and say it. Not yet.

  Besides, she had yet to uncover any of these magical gifts, so she wasn’t sure how not human she was. And as far as the way her eyes went black, well, that was just…an anomaly. She wouldn’t even think about the fangs yet. Because if she thought about the fangs, then she’d be forced to think about the biting. And then—

  Nope. Not going there.

  Phoebe bustled around the campsite, pleased to note Marco was already up and about. He’d already rekindled the campfire, and had a pot of coffee simmering, bless his heart.

  “Good morning,” she greeted him, doing her best to ignore the muffled cursing coming from her tent.

  “Good morning,” Marco replied with a bright smile.

  “Is Ricardo up yet?”

  “I hear him stirring. I think he went into the trees a little while ago.” Marco pointed toward a tramped down path the men used when they slipped off to relieve themselves.

  The sound of canvas slapping canvas drew her attention. She turned in time to see Sebastian step out. He paused there in the opening for a moment, and took in the campsite in one sweeping glance. And then he pinned her with a look. One so intense, one so loaded, she forgot to breathe.

  He crossed the clearing in long, purposeful strides that had her heart tripping double time.

  “Marco already has coffee ready if you’d like some,” she said, nerves making her palms begin to sweat.