by Lisa Medley
Nate removed his short sword and slid the new scabbard into the straps. He pushed his arms through the loops and tightened the weapon across his back. Reaper.
It was a title he’d never expected to own.
“We’re going to have to split up. I have to find Ruth and you need to get to your coven. We’re running out of time,” Deacon said. “Samkiel, go with them. I’ll call Kylen once I’m topside and ask him to check our compound. I’ll go to the cemetery. If Ruth is there, I’ll get her to safety. Nate, keep your phone on. I’ll track you to the coven and be there as soon as I can. This ends tonight.”
Maeve reached for Nate’s hand.
“I think we can do this the easy way.” Rashnu spread his wings and the room filled with light until they each began to dissipate through the consecrated subway to their destinations.
***
They landed just outside the perimeter of the coven to the most unlikely welcoming committee Nate could have imagined. On one side of the boundary, Garrett, Rosemary, the coven board and a man Nate didn’t recognize stood in a line, on the other stood Camael, who held Ruth clutched in his arms.
Nate blinked hard, trying to make the image register. Maeve was in motion before he could stop her and yelling rose up all around him as the members of the coven crossed out of the circle of protection, magic blazing.
“Do not come any closer. I’ll flash her from here, and we all know how much danger your dear Ruth will be in if I do that.” Camael turned to face Maeve, whose scythe was drawn.
“Let Ruth go, Camael. She needs our help or she’s going to die,” Nate said, inching forward.
Samkiel edged to their right, ready to act when needed.
“Not just yet.” Camael surveyed Maeve. “You are alive and reinsouled. How is this possible?”
“Ruth needs help now. We don’t have time for this nonsense,” Nate insisted. “Rashnu, do something.”
Rashnu walked around Nate and came into the full view of Camael. “Tell him what he wants to know, Nate.”
“You call that help?” Maeve growled.
“What’s in the case, Camael?” Rashnu asked.
“Nothing of your concern,” Camael snarled.
“I think it concerns all of us. Is it Ruth you want most…or is it whatever is in that case? Tell Nate what you hold and then let him decide if he will help you.”
Camael’s expression faltered and Nate suddenly knew what was in the case.
“Nate, tell him how you reinsouled Maeve,” Rashnu pushed.
“I don’t know how I reinsouled her. I just did it.”
“And she has not been impaired by the experience?” Camael shifted Ruth in his arms and she moaned softly. “Could you do it again?”
“I don’t know.”
“Would you…try?” Camael locked eyes with Nate and dared him to answer.
“What are you asking? Why the hell would I do anything at your request? Ever? You are insane beyond comprehension.”
“Tell him what’s in the case, Camael. I can feel it from here,” Rashnu said.
“A soul,” Camael offered softly.
“Whose?” Nate asked, pressure building inside his head as his heart pounded in his ears.
“Elaina’s.”
In the ensuing silence, Deacon and Kylen suddenly appeared in the clearing behind the group. Deacon froze, his eyes glued on Ruth. “Holy hell,” he said, shifting his gaze to Rashnu. “What the fuck is going on here?”
Nate looked at Rosemary, who began to cry gently, all of the fight drained out of her. He was standing in the middle of a meadow, surrounded by witches, angels and reapers, and his mortal enemy wanted his help. The only thing that could make this all any weirder was…yeah, nothing. He couldn’t even make this shit up.
“Camael has our mother’s soul,” Nate said.
Silence filled the meadow and the world stood still for a few long moments as Nate decided how to proceed. They couldn’t trust Camael, but right now they wanted the same thing—to save Elaina or set her free. At this point, the latter seemed more probable. And Ruth? God only knew what Camael had planned for Ruth. The only way to help ensure her safety was to cooperate.
“I’ll do it.”
“Very well,” Camael said.
“I have conditions,” Nate said.
“Of course.”
Chapter Forty-One
It was nearly dusk when the unlikely alliance filed into the coven librarian’s house. Deacon and Samkiel tended to Ruth in the living room, giving her light doses of Reiki and slowly warming her by the fire. The stranger, who had introduced himself as Carl, waited with them like a loyal watchdog. Meanwhile Rosemary and Garrett were huddled with the coven board around the kitchen table, holding hands and uttering protection incantations to bind Camael to the house. They weren’t taking any chances that he would escape and proceed with his plan of disaster.
Nate, Maeve, Rashnu and Camael filed into the sunroom where Elaina lay.
“You can’t leave this house, Camael. The coven has bound you,” Nate said, setting his shiny new scythe on the dresser within arm’s reach of the bed. “And if a portal so much as pops a nail in this floor, Deacon and Rashnu will smite you. No jury. No trial. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“And when this fails, and it will, you will go with Rashnu to face the judgment you deserve. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Why don’t I believe it’s going to be that easy?” Nate asked.
“Open the case, Camael,” Rashnu commanded.
Camael hesitated, taking a moment to search Elaina’s face, then set the case down on the edge of the bed and unclasped the latches. His host was even more grotesque here in the bright light of the sunroom. Open sores laced across the backs of his hands and disappeared down the neck of his shirt and beneath the long fur coat he wore. He laid open the two sides of the case to reveal an hourglass urn, illuminated from inside with a soft blue-gray glow. As he laid hands on the glass, the stream inside came alive, moving frantically within its glass cage.
“How do you release it?” Nate asked, his hands opening and closing with nervous energy by his sides.
“It must be shattered. I sealed it with my last remaining angel light, so Rashnu will have to break it open.” He cradled the urn between his palms and held it up to the angel, who placed his own hand across the glassy curve. He pushed a bolt of light energy across the glass and the urn shattered to dust across Camael’s boots. The soul burst into the room and scattered into a thin veil, stretching against its new boundaries before reassembling into a ghost form above Elaina’s body and hovering there.
“Now, Nate. Do it now,” Rashnu commanded.
Nate drew in a deep breath and reached forward, pushing his hands through the soul, making contact. His aura built and a bright orange glow encompassed him as he willed the soul toward him just as he’d seen Deacon do hundreds of times. Collecting Maeve’s soul had taken no effort compared to the intense struggle that raged within him now. His insides seared as the soul slowly slid down his throat and settled inside him.
His mother’s soul.
“Don’t let any part of it attach to you, Nate. She’ll need her soul complete if this is to work.” Rashnu summoned Deacon and Samkiel. “Reapers, her body is frail and most likely beyond resurrection, but you should try to fill her with your light as Nate pushes her soul into her—otherwise I fear it will leak right back out. You need to force it to take hold. Then it’s up to Elaina.”
Camael stood by in silent anticipation, his hands trembling at his sides.
Maeve and the other reapers circled the bed, pushing Camael back and against the wall so that they could lay hands upon Elaina’s ruined body. Nate bent to her face, tilted her head back and pressed his mouth to hers. The room exploded in a kaleidoscope of colored light as he pushed her soul into her. Reaper light leaked from her, just as Rashnu had feared, but they continued to fill her with their glow until her body bega
n to absorb it.
He withdrew from her and the reapers did the same. Elaina’s body convulsed on the bed, her back arching upward, and then she stilled. No other visible signs of change could be detected. For all intents and purposes, nothing had changed, but the soul remained inside her. One small blessing.
“It’s done,” Nate said, dropping to his knees beside the bed.
Deacon and Samkiel moved to the doorway.
“Did it work?” Camael asked, taking a step forward before he was stopped by Nate’s glare, which pinned him in place.
“Her soul is in there. Unless she wakes, we’ll never know,” Nate said. “It took Maeve several days.”
Maeve stroked Nate’s back and Camael turned away, staring out of the wall of windows into the darkness.
“We don’t have several days,” he said.
“No,” Nate agreed.
***
Lucifer paced along the viewing deck in Hell as the sky above him roiled with a tumult of black demons that were waiting for the portal to open. What was taking so long? This was what happened when you were forced to rely upon others. He’d sensed Camael’s resolve weakening…but why now? He’d thought about killing him in his chamber, but the small satisfaction that the act would have brought him wasn’t worth the chance that he was wrong. He needed a strong representative topside to make his mission a success. He could open portals, but he couldn’t hold them open. Not without the key. The key Camael possessed.
And without an agent topside to direct the battle, the demons were useless. Their driving motivation was to inhabit hosts and return their bounty to him, which was all well and good, but he had bigger ambitions. Much bigger ambitions. Lucifer wanted to walk in the light again, to be a free angel, and he couldn’t do that until the very last soul had been freed from Hell.
As time ticked by, Lucifer became more and more certain that Camael had deceived him.
The demons continued to press against the metaphysical ceiling, straining for freedom. All he needed was a crack and they could push through. The portal wouldn’t hold without Camael’s assistance, but at least he’d be able to summon Camael to his side. Then he would make his duke wish he hadn’t failed. He wanted the demons released tonight. He’d waited long enough. Five millennia. He was done with waiting. It would happen tonight or Camael would pay the price.
***
Hours passed and to say the conversation was strained would be an understatement. They had bound Camael, physically and metaphysically, to a chair in the corner of the room. It was satisfying to see him beaten, but Nate was still far from having any closure. He had questions. And so far, the angel hadn’t been ponying up any answers.
“Any change?” Ruth asked from the doorway. Deacon stood next to her, a firm, steadying hand on her elbow.
“Not yet.” Nate offered a smile he didn’t feel.
Ruth cast a weary look at the corner of the room. “And him?”
“Not. Helpful.”
Camael raised his eyes to them both. “And what would you have me say?”
“You could start by explaining what you planned to do with Ruth. Your freaking daughter, by the way, who’s carrying your grandchild. It’s fairly clear you weren’t planning on bringing her on a father/daughter date,” Nate said.
“I only recently realized you were my…children. That you were alive. That you were all alive.” Camael looked at Elaina.
“Uh huh, why do I find that difficult to believe?” Nate asked.
“What were you going to do with Ruth, Camael?” Maeve asked.
“The final portal cannot be held open without the sacrifice of a pure soul. I was going to throw her into the portal after I split it open so all of Hell could be released.”
“And Lucifer could be unbound,” Rashnu added.
“Yes.”
“How was Ruth’s soul more pure than any other supernaturals’?” Maeve asked. “No offense, Ruth.”
“None taken.”
“It wasn’t Ruth’s soul they wanted. It was her child’s,” Rashnu offered. “That’s why we sent Temperance to protect her.”
“Temperance. Another Heavenly bounty hunter. Some protection,” Camael scoffed.
“Things have changed since your fall, Camael. We don’t hunt the nephilim any longer. We seek to protect them,” Rashnu said.
“And why now? Why send hunters to exterminate my family but protect others?” Camael spat.
“Your defection and your family’s subsequent disappearance caused us to reevaluate our policies. By the time we realized your offspring had not only survived but were…valuable, you were too far off the reservation to be redeemed, Camael. If only you had held on.”
“And how—or why—would I do that when all I loved had been taken from me? How could you even expect me to continue to serve the one who had destroyed everything?”
“You’re right, redemption is not an option for you any longer. But forgiveness? That could still be yours.”
“I doubt that.”
“And that is why you fell in the first place. Doubt.”
Elaina stirred beneath her coverings and Ruth gasped when her mother’s eyes flickered open then shut. Nate and Ruth fell to her side. Camael struggled to rise to his feet for a better look, but was still secured to the chair.
“Mother?” Ruth stroked her hand across Elaina’s sunken cheek and light leaked from her palm, drawn in by Elaina’s body.
Nate took his mother’s skeletal hand into his own and light poured from his body, drawn by the same vacuum. This time, her cheeks pinked with the infusion of their light.
“Nate.” Ruth looked up at him.
“I see can it,” Nate said.
“What’s happening to her?” Camael asked from the corner, straining against his bonds.
Every word spoken to his father was an effort Nate was nearly incapable of making. “Our light is taking root in her now.”
Nate’s hatred for the fallen angel was only tempered by the fact the asshole had somehow managed to retain Elaina’s soul and return it to them. It didn’t atone—and never would—for all of the lives he’d taken, the hundreds of souls stolen from Meridian, the wanderers who had been destroyed. Didn’t make up for the two dead reapers in Maple Park Cemetery. Didn’t make up for his possession of Maeve or his willingness to destroy Ruth and her child.
How could a man’s—an angel’s—love for another have gone so terribly wrong?
“Please, can I see her?”
The look on Ruth’s face broke Nate’s heart in two. She had sympathy for the monster. Even after all Camael had done to her—had intended to do to her.
“Bring him, Rashnu,” Nate said. “Then take him away.”
Rashnu loosened Camael’s bindings and led him to Elaina’s bedside. Bits of Camael’s host stayed behind on the chair and left a trail of putrescence as he crossed to the bed.
“Not like this, Rashnu. Please, let me appear to her for one last time in my angel form before you bring me to meet my doom. She’ll never recognize me this way, and in my angel form, I could be of some assistance to her. I do not deserve it, but I beg you all the same.” Camael bowed his host’s head in deference.
“You have got to be kidding me. Why would we allow you to take your form? Even if it were possible?” Nate asked.
“He’s right, Nate. In his angel form, he might be able to help revive her. If there is anything left inside of her to save, her soul might recognize his. But like this?” Rashnu said.
“And you can grant this favor to him?” Ruth asked.
“I can.”
Chapter Forty-Two
It was ten minutes to midnight when Rashnu laid his hands upon Camael and restored his angel form to him. The light of his transformation engulfed the room. Fuzzy black spots filled Nate’s vision until he blinked them away and stared into the face—the true face—of his father.
The resemblance to Ruth and himself was undeniable. The angel’s black hair draped across his should
ers and his green eyes shone bright with renewed energy. His previous clothing stretched even tighter across his new form and began to tear and shred as his true body filled out.
Nate’s heart leaped when wings unexpectedly tore through the back of Camael’s coat and rose above his shoulder blades. The coat fell to the floor in tatters, while the rest of his attire hung around him in shreds. As much as he hated to admit it, the angel was magnificent, barring the whole nearly naked thing.
Camael stretched his wings, struggling to unfold them in the close confines of the room and tilted his head to the ceiling, eyes closed. “Thank you.”
“It’s temporary. Don’t make me regret it,” Rashnu replied.
A rumble shook the ground beneath them. “What are you doing, Camael?”
“It’s not me. Lucifer grows impatient.”
“Can he open the portal without you?” Deacon asked.
“Yes. But without the sacrifice, it won’t hold,” Camael said, cutting an apologetic glance toward Ruth.
“Why would he open it here?” Nate asked.
“He’s tracked me to this place. I had planned to open it in Bolton Cemetery. I don’t think he will wait for that any longer.”
“Say your goodbyes, Camael. The sooner you’re gone, the better off we’ll be,” Nate said.
***
Camael nodded and leaned over the bed, nearly overcome by a flood of emotion. It was all too much to believe. His Elaina lay before him. His now grown children stood beside him.
His children.
Those babes he’d held for a few fleeting moments many years ago would now be his final undoing…and perhaps, Elaina’s salvation.
Never, in all these long years, had he once believed that his children might have survived. He’d been so confident that the reaper bounty hunter had returned to claim his prize that he had helped launch an apocalypse.
His one consolation was that his children were clearly better than he had ever been. Strong. Powerful. Fiercely loyal. He didn’t expect or deserve forgiveness in any form. But now that his angel body had been restored, albeit temporarily, he gloried in these first and last moments with his family, however warped the reunion was.