Nephilim War: Book 2

by Adrienne Kama

  “Gerald comes.”

  Al-Kenna stumbled backward, brought to the present by the voice in her head. She steadied herself on a chair, but only just managed it. She made to step forward but faltered, nearly tumbling over one of the books she and Jesse had been reading.

  “Jesse?”

  Jesse took a tentative step forward. “Al, is it over? Did the vision end?”

  “He searches for you,” the voice said.

  “That was the most vivid vision I’ve ever had. Ever.”

  “I know. I could tell.”

  “I saw him take her. I saw everything.”

  “I know, Al.”

  Al-Kenna!

  Al-Kenna gazed up at the ceiling. She shook her head to clear it and took a steadying breath. “Yes, Seer?” she said to the voice in her head.

  Gerald is coming. You have to get out of there. He enters the library as we speak. Exit with great caution and shield your thoughts.

  “I know to shield my thoughts.”

  True, you’ve managed to block me until now. But the Warlord has sent Gerald in search of you. There’s an emergency meeting in the Great Hall tonight. I don’t want Gerald to find you and Jesse in the archives. Get out of there now, before he finds out what you’ve been doing.

  Al-Kenna moved forward, muttering under her breath. Scurrying to replace the documents, she wondered, not for the first time, what she had done to be cursed with a Seer for a stand-in mother. Not only could the Seer intrude on her thoughts whenever the desire took her, but she felt no compunction against doing so. What did Al-Kenna need with privacy? the Seer had often questioned.

  Though Al-Kenna wasn’t nearly as skilled as the Seer at reading people’s thoughts, she would have read Gerald’s before he’d entered. The Seer’s warning had been unnecessary

  “Al-Kenna?” Jesse asked. “What the hell is going on?”

  Al-Kenna paused to look at him. Jesse’s face was creased with worry. His eyes were wide and, if Al-Kenna didn’t know better, she would have said fearful. “The Seer says Gerald is on his way down, looking for us. There’s an emergency meeting in the Great Hall. One I won’t be invited to, no doubt.”

  “I don’t care about Gerald. What happened before? What happened to you? I’ve never seen you like that during a vision before.”

  Al-Kenna turned to the bookcase and set the last book in place. She didn’t want Jesse to see her face. Even if he didn’t know what had happened, she did. Her telepathic powers were increasing, just as the Seer said they would. That had to be the explanation for her dreams, too. She was being prepared for her meeting with Alaric. Somehow, knowing his past, knowing about Smenkhare, would help her in winning him to the Ikari cause. “I’m becoming more skilled,” she said over her shoulder. “Until today, I always needed to establish a physical connection with whomever my visions were about. Not today, though. Today I saw as clearly as the Seer.” As an afterthought, she grabbed the book she’d been reading, the book about Alaric, from the shelf, then stepped away from the bookcase. She scanned the room to make sure it looked as it had when she and Jesse had entered.

  “Let’s go,” she told Jesse.

  Al-Kenna tiptoed down the short corridor of bookcases and to the door, where she pressed her face against the cool steel and listened. All was silent. She hadn’t really expected she’d hear anything, but figured trying wouldn’t hurt.

  He’s on the stairway. Leave now.

  “I know he’s on the stairway,” Al-Kenna lied.

  Then, why were you listening at the door? A soundproof door, no less.

  Al-Kenna hid the book she was holding under her tunic, gave the archives one last glance, then gently pulled open the door. Jesse eased through the narrow opening of the door before Al-Kenna. Al-Kenna was a step behind him. She reached back with one hand and flicked off the lights, jammed her free hand into her tunic pocket, and closed it around the cool metal of the keys. It took her a second to find the right one, but when she finally did, she fitted it into the lock and twisted.

  He’s on the third subterranean level already. He’s mere seconds from you.

  She tried the door. It was locked.

  She slipped the keys into her pocket, anchoring them deep so they wouldn’t jangle and give her away.

  As she turned from the door, she heard the clip-clop of boots coming down the hallway toward her. With the barely existent light glimmering at her from bulbs set into the wall at varying intervals, she had to squint to see Gerald’s large frame. As he closed the distance between them, the gleam of red hair made his identity unmistakable.

  “I can handle this. Get out of my head.”

  You may need me, Al-Kenna.

  “No, I won’t.”

  Al-Kenna stood for a moment, waiting until she felt the Seer exit. Stubbornly, the Seer hung on, forcing Al-Kenna to put up a block in her mind. It was always difficult for Al-Kenna to shield her thoughts from someone as powerful as the Seer—it took all her concentration, in fact—but once she had the block in place, it was relatively easy to keep it intact.

  Free of the older woman’s nagging, she and Jesse started down the hall toward Gerald. His red hair, an inheritance from the Warlord, shone as bright as any flashlight would have. His broad shoulders and massive chest dwarfed the hall.

  Already, she heard him snickering.

  “I knew I’d find you down here,” he said when he’d come to stand under a flickering fluorescent light.

  “Congratulations.” She reached for Jesse’s hand and made to brush past her half-brother.

  “Hey. I’m talking to you.” He grabbed her by the forearm to stall her. When she tried to pull free, he tightened his grip, squeezing so hard she yelped in surprise at the pain. The smell of ale was heavy on his breath, and she made a mental note to proceed with caution. Gerald was dangerous enough when he was sober; drunk, he was an absolute menace. Not for the first time, she wondered how a person could imbibe so much ale, yet maintain his ability to wield a weapon.

  “Let her go, Gerald,” Jesse said.

  “I’m busy, Gerald.”

  “Oh, I see that. Father won’t be pleased when I tell him you were down here screwing around with Jesse.”

  “Screwing around?”

  “Just because you’re not doing it now doesn’t mean you weren’t doing it a minute ago.”

  “You’re paranoid, Gerald. And surprise of surprises, you’re drunk. Get your hands off me.”

  He gave her arm a jerk and she clumsily stumbled toward him. For a moment, she considered giving him an uppercut to the gut, but decided against it. For one thing, that was exactly what he’d expect her to do. For another, the last thing she wanted to do was show the Warlord and The Council she was too emotional to control herself. She’d have to get around Gerald using her head.

  “Paranoid, eh?” he went on. “Then what are you doing down here?”

  Jesse stepped forward and placed his hand over Gerald’s. “Back off, Gerald.”

  “Or what? Are you gonna tell my daddy on me? Go ahead. I dare you. Then I’ll tell him how you and Al-Kenna go down to the lake so she can suck your dick. I think Daddy Dearest would really love knowing that.”

  “Let go of my arm, Gerald.”

  He jerked her again.

  “Let her go.” Jesse gave Al-Kenna’s arm a tug in his direction, but nothing happened. Gerald’s hold was too strong.

  “Fucking, that’s what you’re doing, Al-Kenna. And I caught you,” Gerald went on as if Jesse hadn’t said a word.

  Al-Kenna glared up at him, forcing her voice to remain steady. “Did you now, Gerald? What proof do you have?”

  “I don’t need proof. The Warlord sent me to find you and I found you, all right.” He curled his lip and snarled, looking more beastly than any imp or vampire or beastman she’d ever seen in the SIM room. “Wonder what he’ll say when I tell him where I found you?” The sour smell of ale and half-digested meat permeated the air around her as he breathed, open-mouthed, into
her face. “Daddy Dearest keeps you so protected, doesn’t he? Never even been out into the real world before, have you? Daddy’s little princess can’t be five hundred feet away from her daddy. Immortality is a waste on you. I should have been born immortal, not you.”

  “You’re making a fool of yourself, Gerald.”

  He ticked off her flaws on a finger. “You’re too uptight, you have the worst case of penis envy I’ve ever seen, you’re just plain weird, and you—”

  “That’s enough!”

  For a moment, he froze; then, his blue eyes widened as he registered who the voice belonged to.

  “I said, that’s enough. Get away from her.”

  Chapter Seven

  Alaric fitted the key into his penthouse, pushed the door open, then stepped inside. It was barely one in the morning, but fatigue was already pulling at him.

  He’d only had time to pull shut the curtains of his bedroom, turn on the tap in his shower and remove his shirt when Damon barged into the bathroom. Damon’s expression was grim, and immediately Alaric knew he’d have to put getting a hot shower further down on his list of things to do.

  Alaric kicked the toilet seat cover down and settled himself atop it. “What is it now?”

  “Your cell phone was off,” Damon said as he walked further into the room. A low fog from the hot water filled the air, and Damon waved it away as he moved forward.

  “And?”

  “Raven called.”

  Alaric got to his feet. “Does he have Charity?”

  “No. He said Azriel didn’t go to the Sudan after leaving your house, but to the seventh portal in the Pyrenees.”

  Alaric frowned. “Why would Azriel do that? He has Charity. He can release the Nephilim now.”

  “The Ikari guarding that portal are dead. Every one of them. Raven said Azriel isn’t searching for the portal to Hir na Gog. Azriel wants to release the imps. He’s gone to The Void.”

  Alaric was silent. In a million years, he’d never have thought The Void would play a part in this. After being exiled for so many centuries, they’d become a non-issue. Why would Azriel waste his time with The Void when the Nephilim were within his reach?

  Damon must have seen the question in Alaric’s face. “He’s going after Ikarius,” Damon said. “He’s going to use the imps to destroy them.”

  “Azriel is mad.”

  “Raven went to the compound in Virginia to see the Ikari Warlord. He wants us to meet him there,” Damon said, ignoring Alaric’s statement.

  “Raven wants us to meet him at the Ikarius compound? Azriel isn’t mad, Raven is. I’m not going to the Ikarius compound.”

  “Raven has arranged for our presence and assured our safety. He’s given his word no harm will come to us there. There’s a small airport three miles south of the compound. We’re to call this number when we arrive,” he said, giving Alaric a slip of paper with a telephone number scrawled in Damon’s fastidious script, “and speak with Quinn. Raven says to give this Quinn our flight arrangements. They’ll send someone to meet us at the airport.”

  Alaric huffed. “The Ikari have been killing our kind for centuries. And Raven wants the two of us to saunter into an Ikari compound?”

  “They’re not stupid, Alaric. You’re the leader of the Alliance. If they attack you, that’s as good as declaring war on all immortals. Even beastmen would take your murder as a personal affront. Anyway, the Ikari only go after rogue immortals who kill humans.”

  “Still, I don’t like it.” Alaric stared down at his boots, unable to decide what to do.

  “Time is wasting, Alaric. We have six hours until the sun rises. If we’re going, we should go now.”

  “When did Raven call?”

  “Just after ten our time.”

  “I wonder how he got there. Did he fly, or did he fly?”

  “The latter. Flying via commercial airline would take too long.”

  “Myrddin and Aliceanna?”

  “Will arrive in Virginia in the morning. Obviously, they have to come by jet.”

  “Shit.” Alaric removed his discarded shirt from the hanger and slipped into it. He started out of the bathroom, yelling orders over his shoulder. “Wake up my pilot. See that he makes flight arrangements to this little airport south of the compound Raven spoke of. While you’re doing that, I’m calling down to the Ikari compound. Fuck Quinn, whoever he is, I’m getting Raven on the phone.”

  Chapter Eight

  Charity crouched against a wall, shivering in the cold, dank air.

  Her environment wasn’t the cause of the chills, though. The massive, armor-laden ghoul who’d come around the corner a few minutes earlier was. He’d appeared in the corridor before them, blazing torch held aloft, and bowed low before Azriel. Nearly Azriel’s size in height and much thicker around the middle, the creature looked like something straight out of her worst nightmare.

  She guessed from the conversation that followed that he’d been awaiting Azriel and would lead him to some hidden chamber within the tunnels. They must be nearing Hir na Gog. If she was going to escape, she had to do it soon.

  “Takes time,” the ghoul was saying. “Must be patient.”

  “How much time?”

  “They must be summoned. Awakened. Strengthened.”

  “How long?”

  The ghoul made a rough movement Charity guessed was supposed to indicate a shrug. “A day. Two days.”

  Azriel cursed.

  Apparently sensing danger, the ghoul backed off. “Maybe less.”

  Azriel gave the ghoul a quick nod. “We’ll see.” He turned to face Charity and fixed a smile to his face. “Up.”

  She didn’t move.

  She wondered how her life had come to this. How had she been a data entry clerk one day and only half human the next? How had she come to be led through caverns by a fallen angel who seemed to be lord over every horrid creature imaginable? What was clear was, she had to find a way to escape Azriel before he brought her to Hir na Gog. Problem was she didn’t know how. Azriel was simply too powerful.

  “Charity,” Azriel pressed. “Come on.”

  “I need to rest,” Charity finally said.

  “Later.”

  “I’m exhausted. You haven’t let me sleep once since Prague. And I’m hungry. I’m not an angel, I’m human.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. You’re Nephilim. That makes all the difference in the world.”

  “My legs ache, I’m tired of thinking, and I’m so sleepy it hurts. I need a break.”

  Azriel came toward her. “We’re almost there. You can rest then.”

  “You can’t make me cross into Hir na Gog.”

  He stopped before her and crouched. She thought he was moving to bend low so they could speak in quiet voices, but that wasn’t what he did at all. One moment she was crouching on the floor, the next she was lifted as easily as though her weight were an inconsequential thing. His biceps flexed as he held her in his arms. The heat of his body warmed her and his sweet, musky scent enveloped her.

  “I can make you do anything I want you to do.”

  Before she could answer, he started forward.

  “Put me down,” she demanded. “I’m not a child. I can walk, even if I am tired.”

  Azriel ignored her. “Show me the way,” he said to the ghoul who immediately turned and led them deeper into the cavern.

  With the ghoul holding his torch aloft, she could see. And she realized, she didn’t much want to see. In the dimness of the corridor ahead, she made out three sets of glowing eyes staring back at them. She didn’t doubt they too were ghouls. Gooseflesh rose on her skin.

  “Afraid?” he whispered against her ear.

  She wasn’t warmed by the question for a second. The mirth in his voice was enough to tell her he was more amused by her reaction than concerned.

  “I don’t like ghouls.”

  “You have nothing to fear from them. They won’t hurt you. At least, not while you’re with me. If yo
u try to escape…”

  Her mind raced. She had to escape despite the danger. “They smell bad.”

  “Hygiene isn’t one of their pursuits,” he said quickly. “I know what you’re thinking, Charity. Get escape out of your mind. You can’t escape me.”

  She hated feeling helpless, and fought against the wave of hopelessness that threatened to descend on her. She wasn’t helpless. She might not have Raven physically with her, but she had his essence.

  She wasn’t helpless.

  Again, the thought of acquiring Azriel’s power flittered through her brain. Again, though, she pushed the thought aside. Having Azriel’s strength would mean allowing Azriel to take her to bed. She’d never be able to face Raven.

  A small voice in her head questioned, Do you think Raven would fault you? He’s not here to rescue you. You have to take care of yourself. By any means necessary.

  Even if it meant sleeping with Azriel?

  “You said you were tired,” Azriel was saying, “and I can see in your eyes that you are. Rest.”

  “With ghouls everywhere?” Hell no, she wasn’t going to rest. If she slept she had no doubt she’d wake in Hir na Gog.

  He cupped her head with his hand and forced it against his shoulder.

  Over the next few minutes her anger and confusion wore off as the fatigue of the last few days caught up with her. Even as she struggled to remain conscious, her eyes began to droop. She wasn’t sure if it was Azriel’s body heat, the safety of being in his arms, or a mix of both, but sleep was slowly descending on her. Even following the oversized ghoul wasn’t enough to keep her awake. As much as she hated admitting it, she was safe with Azriel. No ghoul would harm her while she was with him. And if she were going to escape, she had to have at least a little rest.

  The scent of apple-cinnamon rose from his hair and his skin smelled sweetly of honeysuckle. She felt his muscles flex around her as he tightened his hold, and the warmth of his body made her feel she was melting into him.

  She didn’t know when she dozed off or for how long, but she came awake when she felt something soft beneath her.