The whole room erupted into action. Peter jumped forward and head-butted the archangel, hitting his diaphragm full force and impeding his Wrath. Ophelia called forth her wolf and the two of them unbalanced the angel who had them by her shoulders and dragged him down. To her right, a web of magik filled the air and Caelum too freed himself.
Ophelia forced the angel to the floor, where the span of his wings would hamper him and pressed one foot over the silver-brown feathers, pushing over the concave bones and frail sinews until she heard a satisfactory crunch. Meanwhile, she had kept the other foot over his mouth. Her weight added to the wolf’s was enough to keep the angel silent and at her mercy.
Although she couldn’t leave her spot—she didn’t have the power necessary to completely incapacitate the angel—one brief glance around told her they were having a small victory. Peter and Barnes were both dealing with the archangel and his Wrath by immobilizing his wings behind him and preventing his mouth from opening by punching it repeatedly. Caelum’s magik had his assailant writhing on the ground, a thick web covering the angel’s mouth, securing him and his wings. Then he made quick work of his angel’s arms, walked over to Ophelia, and immobilized her assailant’s mouth and arms as well.
Caelum was about to do something to the angel’s wings, but Ophelia, who had been looking at Peter and Barnes fighting the archangel stopped him. “Go help them.” She twisted the foot she hadn’t removed from over her angel and pinned his wing down again.
Caelum look behind him, nodded, and ran away. “Keep an eye on them,” he shouted back to her, indicating the two angels on the ground.
She nodded, and to her relief, the warlock was already spinning his hands. A web materialized before him, he pushed it toward the archangel’s face and covered it like a mask.
Peter thanked Caelum as he turned on his heels, his eyes scanning the room until he met Ophelia’s and visibly relaxed when she mouthed she was fine.
Meanwhile, Caelum walked around the archangel, who was angrily clawing at the web, and called forth another web with which he secured Arariel’s wings together, freeing Barnes from the task, then he immobilized the archangel’s hands uniting them at the wrists behind him.
“What now?” Peter turned toward Barnes and pointed over his shoulder at the archangel. “He’ll walk away from this like nothing happened.”
Barnes took a deep breath. “He won’t be held accountable for the crimes he committed against you because you were an angel at the time, but he’ll have to explain his dealings with Claudius, a known fugitive from another race. According to Peace Pact Alliance law, since he has contacted and used the vampire, he can be persecuted as any other paranormal. The Holy Council, actually Arariel himself, signed the contract on behalf of the Holy Nation. He had to, otherwise angels would’ve been excluded from the paranormal world and would’ve been treated as if they were renegades.”
The archangel had paused during Barnes’s speech, but now he was twisting and turning. Hatred showing in his cold blue eyes, he ran toward Barnes and threw the immortal against the wall to their right, barely missing the fountain. Peter tackled him by the side, but the archangel was fast in moving out of the way and made a sharp turn, surprising all of them when he yanked his hands free and attacked Peter instead.
When Ophelia saw Peter struggling, she forgot all about her task, but as she started raising her foot, the angel sat up. He flipped both his wings forward, almost overturning her, and she was forced to press down again to immobilize him. Scared by what had almost happened because of her impulsiveness, she bent over him and started punching him as hard as she could, breaking her knuckles, her blood flowing freely.
“I’m on it.” Caelum went to Peter’s rescue, but as he moved close, the archangel stretched his wings free as well and used them like blades to slash at them. With his wings keeping Peter, Barnes, and Caelum away, and his hands free, Arariel was soon working on liberating his mouth from the magik web.
Ophelia watched with growing terror as the archangel peeled the mask away and the corner of his mouth appeared. She looked at Peter fighting against the wings, blood spurting from several cuts on his arms, and face. A moment later, the archangel’s face appeared in all its cruelty, an icy smile tugging at his lips. He opened his mouth.
Ophelia looked at Peter. I love you, demon of mine, she thought and wished their fate had been different.
Chapter Twelve
Peter watched as his world collapsed in the blink of an eye. He only hoped the archangel’s fury was such he would lose control of his Wrath and kill them right away. “I love you.” He locked eyes with Ophelia and waited for the pain to start.
A heartbeat passed. Then a second. And a third. His ears ringing with the flow of his own blood, chest heaving, and limbs shaking, he followed Ophelia’s shocked eyes and saw the unthinkable.
Arariel’s mouth was wide open and utterly silent. His eyes looking around in disbelief, he brought both hands to his throat. He staggered, as if he couldn’t breathe, his face fast becoming red as veins bulged.
“What—?” Peter looked first at Caelum, but the warlock shook his head. Then his eyes lingered on Barnes, who stood still before the archangel. Peter walked to the immortal. “How did you stop him?”
The immortal turned to look at Peter, his mouth a grim line. “The only way possible. I revoked his powers and demoted him. Despite his wings, he’s now mortal.”
Ophelia ran to Peter and he pressed her close to him. She shook all over. Peter couldn’t stop his own trembling, but caressed her back, trying to calm her. His mind was a blank slate; he felt dizzy and could barely think, yet he shook his head and said, “What do you mean? Only an angel superior to the archangel could do it.”
Ludwig Barnes opened his arms to the side. “You’re right.” Without warning, two wings—the largest and whitest wings Peter had ever seen—sprouted from his back. Their span was so wide, they almost encompassed the length of the room. Only angels in the highest hierarchies had wings of that range.
“I don’t understand.” Ophelia squeezed Peter’s hand.
Peter pressed her even closer. Dozens of questions crowding his mind now. “Me either.”
Caelum was the only one seemingly unruffled by what was happening, and when the archangel staggered toward Barnes, he spun a web to keep him anchored in place.
“You’re not an immortal,” Ophelia whispered.
Barnes gave her a small smile and shook his head. “I’ve been working incognito for the best part of the last two millennia. Not every angel is aligned to the subversive archangel’s cause. Inside the Holy Nation there is a faction that has been trying for years to undermine Arariel’s position in the Holy Council. I’ve been serving in the Immortal Council because we needed hard proof of his wrongdoings in the paranormal world so we could incarcerate him.” Barnes walked toward Peter. “When the couple’s remains were uncovered, I knew Arariel would be scared enough that the truth would come out and he would contact you—”
Peter raised one hand. “You knew everything. All along?”
Barnes passed one hand over his jaw. “I’ve known about you and what you did since the beginning and I tried to shield you from the downfall of this mission, but I’ve been working on it for so long I couldn’t blow my cover. I’m sorry.”
“So you and your faction are okay if the rest of the paranormals will know about the angels’ hidden powers—the fact they can transmigrate souls from the living and leave a vampire body intact?”
“We aren’t exactly happy about it, but Arariel, thanks to his alliance with the Vampire Nation, has never been so close to achieving his goal of overturning the Elysium, and we had to act fast and stop him. Uncovering those truths is a small price to pay.” Barnes looked at the archangel who had gone still. “I’m sure you have tons of questions, and I promise I’ll answer them to the best of my abilities, but I need to take him before the Elders and the Holy Council before his army arrives to free him.”
Peter felt tired and wanted to get out of there, but there was something eating at him. “I have only one question actually.”
Barnes gave Arariel another glance, then faced Peter. “Okay.”
It took him a moment to reorganize his thoughts. “For three years, I was tortured because he wanted to know where I buried the remains of those kids I killed, but I don’t think I’ve ever known that.” He paused. The memories assailed him and he swayed. “I would’ve told him, of that I’m sure.”
Ophelia circled her arm around Peter’s waist and leaned her head against his shoulder.
Barnes’s mouth tightened in a straight line before he passed his hand once again on his face and answered. “No, you didn’t know and you didn’t kill them. After you helped their souls transmigrate, their bodies became empty shells. You left Lucilla and Valerius where they passed away, but I was already following you and found them. I moved them to a different location before taking them to Aurelius’s villa when its ruins were dug out. I needed them to be found—”
“Why were you following me?”
“Because as Arariel said, you were an independent-thinker, but what he forgot to mention was that you were also his right hand. I was following you because I wanted to enroll you in our cause. When I saw what you had done, I realized what kind of ramifications your actions had and decided to act on it.”
Peter felt as if there was no breathable air in the room anymore. “You let him torture me for three years.”
“It was in his right to punish you for having acted against your primary directive and against the Holy Nation.” Barnes lowered his eyes for a moment. “I’m sorry. There wasn’t anything I could do then, but as soon as you came to Rome asking for a job, I made sure you worked under my tutelage.”
“Thank you.” Peter had enough. “Since I don’t think you need me here anymore, I’ll leave you to your politics.” He turned and pulled Ophelia along with him, his steps brisk as he moved through the room and reached the freshly created exit at the other end.
Ophelia hurried to match his pace and was at his side and one foot out of the breached wall already, when he heard her scream and felt her hand pulling away suddenly. As he looked over his shoulder, he saw her terrified face, and the archangel behind her. Arariel’s eyes were full of hatred, his mouth frozen in a silent snarl, his free hands grabbing at her, his equally free wings sucking air as he drew Ophelia away. Barnes and Caelum were behind them, but the archangel’s wings slashed at them.
“No!” Peter ran after Ophelia, trying to reach for her stretched fingers, but missed her by a hair’s breadth.
Meanwhile, the two incapacitated angels had freed themselves and were attacking Barnes and Caelum. Barnes’s large wings impeded his movements and he soon had to summon them away to deal with his attacker. Peter redoubled his efforts in pursuing the archangel, who now had one arm around Ophelia’s throat. When he saw Ophelia slightly nod at him, he charged toward them as she dropped down and moved aside, and left Arariel’s torso open for a hit. Peter rammed into the archangel at full speed and sent him careening toward the fountain, where he smashed his head against the marble edge. One of Arariel’s wings fell into the water and dragged him down into the fountain. Still, the archangel fought Peter with his hands and feet, throwing punches and kicks and even using his head to hit him.
Peter slipped on the water that had slushed out of the fountain and fell on the archangel. For a moment, he was at a disadvantage and Arariel threw his hands around Peter’s neck and starting pulling him down.
“I can kill you now,” the archangel said, a manic tinge in his voice.
Water covered Peter’s face as he hit the internal rim of the fountain. The hands around his neck slid to the front, encircling his throat and tightening their hold. Peter gasped for air and water filled his mouth.
All of a sudden, Arariel released his hold and Peter emerged from the water. The archangel slapped Ophelia, who was hitting him with a brick. Ophelia landed several meters away from the fountain, blood gushing from her mouth. Peter attacked Arariel with renewed anger and kicked him in the groin, then hit him repeatedly with a series of upper and lower jabs. The archangel went to the ground and Peter sat on him and kept him down. He punched him until Arariel didn’t move anymore, his head lying to the side.
His main concern checking that Ophelia was fine, Peter made to stand when the archangel raised his arm from the ground and swung it at him. Taken by surprise by the sudden attack, Peter almost didn’t see the wing coming at him and aimed at his throat. He was able to deflect the blow at the last moment and break the wing with a chop, then jammed the broken end into Arariel’s chest. The archangel raised his eyes to him in shocked stupor. With a scream, Peter forced the wing farther in and only relented when his opponent’s eyes dulled. They fell to their knees together, their foreheads united.
“It’s done.” Ophelia’s voice resonated closer. “Peter, you can let go.” Her soft hands pried his from the archangel’s wing.
Peter looked up and saw Ophelia crying, blood all over her face, on her hands, on her bare feet.
“Peter, I’m fine. We’re fine. We are alive.” She helped him up, then hugged him, and sobbed against him, her arms around his back. “It’s done. He’s dead.”
Barnes and Caelum came closer. They too were bloodied, their faces haggard. Behind them, the two remaining angels were tied to each other and looked barely alive.
“Go home,” Barnes said to Ophelia. “Take him away from here.”
Peter was dazed, time sped up, everyone around him moved too fast. He heard Barnes make a phone call. Then Ophelia had him out of the chamber and into the Promenade; from there they walked to the garage where a car was waiting for them. Samuel exited the car and helped him inside.
“I killed the archangel,” he finally said when they emerged from the paranormal garage and drove to the Lungotevere.
****
Peter redid the knot of his tie for the third time.
“Stop fidgeting. It’s perfect.” Standing behind him, Ophelia looked at him from his reflection in the mirror. She patted his shoulders, made an appreciative sound, then dropped a kiss on his neck. “Ready?”
“Of course I am,” Peter lied. They had been living together for a few months and he had run out of excuses to avoid meeting her clan. The Summer Harvest Party held at the Reserve had seemed the perfect occasion to introduce him to her extended family. Peter wasn’t so sure anymore.
“Remember I love you.” She brushed his ear and made him shiver.
“Isn’t it a tad too late to ask Quintilius for your hand?” He pointed at the bed and at yet another set of lacy underwear he had ripped to pieces.
She followed his gaze and her eyes lit with that light of hers that drove him crazy. “The sooner we arrive, the sooner we leave.” She slapped his butt.
“Hey!” He grabbed her as she giggled and tried to run away and pressed her to the wall by the dresser.
“It means a lot to me that you ask him,” she whispered softly and he was lost.
“Werewolf mine, you managed to make an honest man out of me.” He kissed her nose and gently pulled her toward him. “I love you senseless.”
“I love you more.” Ophelia tilted her throat for him and he nuzzled the spot where he had marked her.
Peter thought of the midnight runs with the wolf and at an eternity spent in Ophelia’s arms, and all of a sudden, nothing seemed too much to confront if it meant making her happy. “Let’s go meet the parents,” he said between kisses.
Dear Reader, if you liked this book, please consider writing a review. As an indie author, I rely solely on word of mouth to promote my stories. Just a few words from you will ensure my work is discovered by other readers.
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Monica
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Acknowledgments
As u
sual, I must thank my kids and my dad for just being the wonderful people they are.
Claudia, because she is the beta reader any author dreams of.
Amy, because she is one fantastic editor.
Katie, Kory, and Angela from my critique group, for their keen eyes in catching typos and their insightful comments.
All my friends, who are always very supportive and don't complain when I disappear for days.
Roberto, because he is the true inspiration behind my heroes.
Persons of Interest
I wrote the book and created the cover with the help of Roberto Ruggeri
Amy Eye edited it
Roberto Ruggeri formatted it
You, the reader, hopefully had a good time reading it
Bio
Monica La Porta is an Italian who landed in Seattle several years ago. Despite popular feelings about the Northwest weather, she finds the mist and the rain the perfect conditions to write. Being a strong advocate of universal acceptance and against violence in any form and shape, she is also glad to have landed precisely in Washington State. She is the author of The Ginecean Chronicles, a dystopian/science fiction series set on the planet Ginecea where women rule over a race of enslaved men and heterosexual love is considered a sin. She also published two other series: the futuristic love story across the universe, Elios & Gaia, narrated in two books; and the paranormal romance/urban fantasy series The Immortals set in Rome. Stop by her blog to read about her miniatures, sculptures, paintings, and her beloved beagle, Nero. Sometimes, she also posts about her writing.
Monica La Porta’s blog: www.monicalaporta.com
Monica La Porta’s author page of Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/monicalaportaauthor
Goodreads Author page: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5757332.Monica_La_Porta
Twitter: https://twitter.com/momilp
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