by Lisa Medley
How many souls were there? Two—three—dozen?
Maeve’s hand made contact with something warm and familiar. Nate’s hand closed around hers, gripping it tightly. She tried to jerk away, but as he pushed his turquoise energy into her, filling her with his light, the souls began to settle down inside her.
The pain in her head subsided to a dull thud along her right temple, uncomfortable but tolerable. Nate whispered words of encouragement, but they were drowned out by the thunderous drubbing of her heart, which echoed in her ears.
She needed relief.
She needed the souls gone.
***
“What’s happening to her, Rashnu?” Nate held onto her hand, encouraging her to stay conscious and fight whatever was threatening her.
“She needs to ferry the souls to Purgatory.”
“I’ll take her,” Nate offered.
Deacon finally reached them. “What the hell are the three of you doing here? And who’s with Ruth?”
“Deacon, Ruth is missing.”
Deacon grabbed Nate’s collar and pushed him against the side of parked van. “What do you mean? She’s not in the compound anymore?” he growled.
“No. Camael took her. Rashnu was there, but he couldn’t stop him.”
“Because of your magical shield, I might interject,” Rashnu said.
“He’s been hiding inside of Bo. When Bo was injured trying to protect Ruth, Rashnu was flushed out. He’s been spying on us. We’ve got to find her. I can feel her. She’s in trouble…like before.”
“The baby? Is she having problems with the baby, too?” Deacon’s hands tightened and a mustard yellow aura leaked out around him.
“I’m don’t know, but I’m fearful for her.”
Deacon released Nate and fell on Rashnu with the sort of rage Nate felt percolating in his own heart and soul for the asshole. Deacon’s aura surrounded him in a cloud of fury. “Find her, Rashnu. Help us.”
“I can’t track her from here. If we retire to the reaper lounge, then perhaps I can make some inquiries.”
Deacon jabbed a finger into Rashnu’s chest punctuating each word. “You. Will. Find. Her. Alive.”
“We can hope.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Nate scooped Maeve into his arms and stood, her face pressed into his chest as her body continued to tremble with the weight of too many souls. Everything was spinning out of control: Camael, the demons, Ruth, Elaina, Rashnu, Maeve, not to mention the mass of humanity lost.… It seemed as if the world had already gone to Hell.
He dared to imagine what else could go wrong.
Then it did.
His phone buzzed before they flashed and he managed to fish it out of his pocket. Rosemary’s name appeared on his screen in a green bubble with a message that sunk his heart: The coven is under attack.
What exactly was he supposed to do? Who could he save? Maeve? His mother? His adoptive parents? His sister?
He wasn’t even confident he could save himself at this point.
Rashnu’s two paths played out in his mind again, the drawings from his room, Maeve’s memories. Which was the right choice? Would the wrong one damn them all?
Nate was being torn apart at the seams.
Bo nudged at his elbow, urging him to flash.
The life in his hands…well, perhaps he could do something about.
He prayed everyone else could hold on a little longer.
They flashed to Purgatory.
***
Camael summoned his imps and demons to the bizarre compound he’d discovered beneath the ethereal glow of a powerful circle of protection. He commanded them to return Little Stevie and his bus-load of prisoners as well. The humans might come in handy yet again.
He’d scoured the countryside for miles after Elaina and the children vanished. How had he missed this place?
From his earlier vantage point on the mountain, he could see that the compound consisted of a small city, hidden by thousands of acres of national forest as well as the magical shield that covered it. Humans would be repelled by the magic if they somehow managed to wander this far into the woods.
The fact that the witches had taken such pains to conceal the place piqued his interest enough to temporarily sidetrack him. Something more than magic radiated from within its walls.
Something…familiar.
Anxiety bubbled up from deep inside him. Here he was…waiting for humans to do his bidding. It was getting ridiculous, this dependence on lesser beings. He hoped Rashnu was enjoying equal amounts of frustration on this plane. Even before Camael fell, his powers had been greatly diminished while on Earth.
He’d let his guard down to the point of stupidity back then. By the time he met Elaina, he was especially vulnerable. He had been searching for a guardian angel, who—it turned out—wasn’t lost at all. Earth had become the Florida retirement option of angels who wanted out of the rat race Heaven had become.
After two or three millennium, the repetitive nature of daily life wore on an angel. Camael could understand that well enough—once he realized there could be a different life for him, it became all he could think about.
Elaina had been searching for a similar change.
Humans liked to think such a meeting was fate, a predetermined future planned out by a great and powerful overseer with one’s best interests at heart. Complete bullshit, of course. Humans had free will. Sure there may have been an original master plan, but one diversion from the path, one different choice set the whole thing reeling into chaos.
Now he was the chaos.
And he had no more idealistic notions about fate, only action and its direct results. He was a creature who made things happen.
The first step was to send in his humans to break down the magical shield. Then he’d work on breaking the consecration of the grounds. An area this large wouldn’t take much—he’d simply let his human minions carve a path of destruction leading to the city center. Then he’d be free to investigate as the masses fled.
And they always fled.
This diversion would take time, but he was still near enough to his final staging ground that he could justify it. A chunk of flesh fell from his forearm. His host body was already deteriorating. He’d have to upgrade before tonight’s activities.
He had already chosen his next host, and as luck would have it, the bus pulled down the narrow lane just as the thought crossed Camael’s mind. Maybe there was such a thing as fate after all.
Camael smirked at his own foolishness.
Little Stevie would make a fine replacement.
The bus lurched toward him down the gravel road, which led to an open field at the edge of the powerful circle of protection. The bus came to a halt in front of him and the doors folded open. His demons began to arrive as the men made their way down the rubberized steps and gathered in the yard.
“Change in plans. Your services are in need once again.”
Little Stevie spoke for the group. “What now? What do you want us to do?”
“You, dear Stevie, I want to stay right here. The rest of you will walk straight into the small town before you and do what you do best. Destroy and wreak havoc. Have your way with whom and what you find, but make it quick and make it thorough. My associates and I will follow behind you as soon as you’ve cleared a path for us.”
When there was no movement from within the group, Camael bellowed, “Do you need an incentive? Which among you would like to volunteer to be said incentive? Have you already forgotten our last interaction?”
Reluctantly, they moved forward, unsure of what to do without Little Stevie to lead them.
“Go. Do what he says,” Little Stevie said. “We’ll be along.”
The group passed through the magical barrier and disappeared into the city.
“Now what?” Little Stevie turned to Camael and then took a step back, having finally gotten a good look at him in the moonlight.
“Yes, as you can see, my form is fa
iling. That’s why I’ll be taking yours.”
Camael abandoned his host body, letting it crumple to the ground before he slammed his essence into a very surprised Little Stevie. He filled the man’s slightly smaller frame to the max, then stretched inside him, testing his boundaries and liking his new accommodations just fine.
There was nothing better than a fresh host.
The knowledge that this host would be his last made the feeling all the sweeter.
Demons paced the edges of the circle in their host bodies, anxious to please their master, and then his imps arrived, too, bounding out from the inky blackness of the forest and across the grassy field. The entire family was here to play. His remaining minions filled the woods behind him. What a perfect pre-party destroying this compound this would be. A succulent taste of destruction to come.
The screams began to sound like Sunday church bells from within the now breeched circle of protection. But it wasn’t the sound that pulled him forward, it was that something else that he’d sensed earlier. He watched as the aura of magic faltered then sputtered out.
So easy.
Maybe too easy?
Camael sent the imps through first to test the barrier. When they met with no resistance, he commanded the demons through next. They fanned across the city as Camael made his way into its heart, pulled by a force much stronger than magic. Stopping in front of a small house, he walked around the stone fence lining its front yard and onto the porch.
Not bothering to knock, he pushed open the door then closed it behind him against the beautiful sounds of terror and mayhem.
“I knew you’d come for her one day.”
His head snapped to his left. An elderly woman sat in a rocking chair by the window. She held his gaze, her expression defiant, though he could tell that she trembled inside.
“For whom, old woman? Whom do you keep here?”
“I think you know.”
Trepidation curled along his spine. “And do you mean to stop me in my pursuit?”
“What will be, will be.”
Camael scoffed. He hated that sort of godly reasoning. Wanted to smite her for mumbling such nonsense, but there wasn’t time. Something lay at the end of the hallway, something that was waiting for him…and him alone. This close to the source of the beacon that had drawn him here, he was surprised to find doubt creep into the mix.
The hallway seemed to stretch forever in front of him until at last he stood inside the doorway. One more step and he’d have what he’d been looking for. One more step and…
A gasp escaped him before he could fully process what he saw before him. His heart recognized her before his brain caught up. Even deteriorated and wasted away, he knew her instantly.
Or what was left of her.
Elaina.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Nate set Maeve down on the couch in the opulent reaper lounge in Purgatory. Bo rested his head on her boots. No matter how many times he was here, Nate would never get used to it to this place. He didn’t want to be a reaper. Didn’t want to be a nephilim.
He wanted the people he loved to be safe, secure and happy. A category which none of them currently fell into. Samkiel and Deacon stalked out of the room through the heavy wooden doors—Samkiel to discharge his cargo of wanderers, which trailed behind him in a long line, to the holding cell and Deacon to dispose of his demons in privacy.
Holding cell.
More like a tomb.
Now that Nate knew the truth about where the wanderers were headed, he was less and less impressed with Rashnu and his kin.
Maeve moaned softly beside him. “How do we purge the souls from her when she’s in this condition? How long must she suffer?”
“I can do it.” Rashnu reached forward to place his hand on her forehead, a glow of energy preceding his touch. A bright light like a static charge sparked and bit him before he could make contact. He jerked away from her in surprise.
“I guess it will need to come from her. I can’t seem to facilitate the change. Which means it will take as long as it takes.” Rashnu retreated to the bar. “Unless…”
“Unless what?” Nate shifted and pulled Maeve up and into his lap, cradling her body against his. She drew energy from him even in her compromised state.
“You seem to have no problem sharing energy with her. It would speed things up if you were to push the souls from her.”
“How the hell would I do that?”
“The same way you share energy with her now, only with more intent. Fill her with your light until there is no room inside her for any soul but her own. The rest will flee when pressed. Then she will be free to finish her transformation.”
“Will it hurt her?”
“It will be uncomfortable this first time, but after her transformation is complete, each reaping will make her stronger. She must continue to stretch her capacity to reach her full potential. The first time is always the most painful.”
Maeve moaned and pulled her knees into her stomach. Nate couldn’t stand to see her suffer in any way. If he could help, he would. And the sooner, the better. He needed to get to the coven, but he couldn’t leave Maeve to suffer if he could ease her pain. He pulled her closer, making as much body contact with her as he could, then bent to kiss her. The light built inside of him until his body trembled with the accumulating power and it could no longer be contained.
His energy poured into Maeve, filling her from stem to stern, lighting her chakras up like a string of Christmas lights. When he pulled away from her, his energy continued to flow from every point of bodily contact, absorbing into her like rain into peaty soil. Maeve’s mouth sprang open and her head hinged backward as souls began to stream out of her overtaxed body. White light beamed from her eyes as one soul after another flowed out. Nate watched in amazement and awe.
Soon thirty-six souls were swirling around the exit chimney in the center of Rashnu’s chamber and Maeve collapsed into a faint against him.
Nate’s light diminished and exhaustion overtook him. He fought for consciousness as he watched Rashnu dismiss the souls with a wave of his hand. They streamed up and vanished through the chimney.
“Where will they go?”
“They will be sorted along with the others.”
“Is your alter ego still out there? Sorting?”
“Of course. Death never stops.”
Maeve appeared to be unconscious and oblivious to their conversation.
“Well done, reaper.”
Barely able to speak, Nate couldn’t let the address go unchallenged. “I’m not a reaper.”
“We’ll have to remedy that soon.” Rashnu placed his hand on Nate’s shoulder and pushed a warm glow of energy into him. “Now, recharge Maeve and let’s get back to the battle. Shall we?”
“You’re coming back topside?”
“I wouldn’t miss it.”
Nate started to pulse energy back into Maeve. “Have I chosen the right path? How are we going to defeat him, Rashnu? Is it even possible?”
“All things are possible.”
“Rashnu, if Ruth and I are nephilim and you once sent hunters to kill us…why are we still alive? What changed?”
“Even Heavenly hearts can change. Something that was once misunderstood does not need to be forever feared. Diversity, it turns out, can be a good thing. If you had been captured by our hunters instead of hidden by the coven all these years, the outcome would have been different. You three would have been destroyed as was ordained. But time has a way of either softening or strengthening grudges and fears. When God realized your very existence might be the one thing that could change Camael’s course of action, he called off the pursuit.”
“So he wanted to use us as bait to draw out Camael?”
“More a secret weapon. The ties of family are what drove Camael to the brink. Perhaps they could also bring him back.”
“You think he can be redeemed? After all the lives he’s taken?”
“Redeemed? Per
haps. But not in the way you are thinking. He will not go unjudged regardless of what happens above. He will pay for his crimes against humanity.”
“What am I supposed to do?”
“Whatever your heart tells you.”
Maeve stirred in his arms and when her green eyes opened, relief flooded through Nate’s body. She stretched out long and languid like a cat, then smiled up at him.
“What did I miss?”
“The beginning of the end.”
Nate stroked her face before turning back to Rashnu. “Deacon is going to be back soon. Please find Ruth.”
“Believe it or not, I want to find her just as much as you do.” Rashnu walked behind the bar and poured a drink for himself.
“Is that your answer for everything? A drink?”
“Hardly, but it does open oneself up to possibilities.” He drank the liquid, then set the glass onto the bar, closing his eyes in concentration.
“And what do you call that particular concoction?”
“Bourbon.”
After several minutes passed, Deacon returned before Rashnu delivered any proclamations. Both of them agreed that they’d go after Ruth first. Whatever was happening at the coven would have to wait a little longer. Nate’s parents and the coven board had kept their location hidden for years. Surely with more than four hundred active witches in residence, they could hold their ground for a little longer.
They would need to.
Rashnu, who had been drinking throughout their conversation, lost his balance and slapped his palms on the bar for support. His face twisted into a grimace of pain and his eyes squeezed shut as he began to chant. Nate stroked Maeve’s hair for comfort. His as much as hers.
His nerves, raw and sensitive, snapped at every stroke through her hair, his palm tingling with the exchange of energy between them, crackling like static.
Rashnu fell into a fit of coughing, which drew him back to attention. “I can’t find her.”
“Is she…dead?” Deacon asked, his voice barely a whisper.