She pushed off his chest and gasped. Gideon jumped to his feet. He shoved her behind and faced a Demoni Lord, one he hadn’t previously seen.
He studied the creature with its shifting features on its lanky frame. It stood on top of a weathered statue in the middle of the dry fountain. What the statue once was, Gideon couldn’t guess.
“It’s a Spaun.” Dina had shifted next to him.
Of course. The shifting features were a giveaway. Spaun were doppelgangers of the Demoni Lords. Just as nasty, but with less powers. Though they did have a direct link to their overlord, they couldn’t speak.
Good chance the Spaun was calling his overlord right now.
Gideon freed his blades from the sleeves along his pant legs.
The Spaun jumped down and landed on a decapitated beast from Limbo. It had to be the one Dina killed. A quick glance confirmed the demon was alone—a lie. Those bastards never traveled without an entourage. He couldn’t risk Dina being hurt.
“Stay,” he whispered to her and tensed to attack the Spaun.
With a flick of its wrist, the vial appeared in its hand, and Gideon halted. He glanced at Dina. She kept moving.
What the fuck! Where is she going? Darklings crept at the fringes of the square aimed at Dina. He pivoted to protect her.
The Spaun uncorked the vial and the unmistakable scent of an Archangel’s grace-filled the air. It smelled of sunshine and life and Heaven. Everything that was an anathema to Hell.
A bone-rattling shriek erupted from the Darklings, a cry sure to bring every inhabitant running. Dina slapped her hands to her ears, but she didn’t go down. She pushed forward, to what?
Gideon didn’t have the time to discover. Whatever course Dina had set for herself, she wouldn’t fail and he refused to fail her again. Indeed, death awaited them. Glory wasn’t guaranteed while pain was a certainty.
Dina disappeared just as the screeching ended. A clicking, scurrying sound resonated along with a scraping noise which reminded him of metal striking stone. Dina came back into view, dragging something he couldn’t yet see.
The Spaun jerked around to face her, the vial tilting in his hand.
Gideon raced across the distance as the Spaun and Darklings swarmed, headed to Dina.
He had one chance.
One. Single. Chance.
He stabbed the Spaun, twisted the blade to anchor it and then snatched the vial out of the Spaun’s hand. With his free hand, he sliced across the Spaun’s throat. It wouldn’t end the demon. Only an Empyreal weapon could do—
Holy! Fuck! Clutched in her hand, dragging behind her, an Empyreal sword. By the detail in the pommel—
His Empyreal sword. Executioner, he lovingly named it at the blade’s inception.
Humanity had stolen her angelic strength. She couldn’t wield the blade. But she could tilt it so that the edge pointed upward and glinted in the hazy light.
Gideon hooked the Spaun around the neck. Inky, tar-like substance spurted from the gash on its throat. That didn’t stop its teeth from snapping at Gideon’s throat. He fisted its hair and yanked the head back as they fell from the fountain.
Gaze focused on the Executioner, Gideon brought an arm around the Spaun, and angled them both toward the blade. The Spaun thrashed to be free, but Gideon held tight.
“Now, Gideon,” Dina shouted, her arms trembling to hold the blade steady even as Darklings rushed her at her back. Seconds before impact, he forced the Spaun ahead and heard the crunch. He landed and rolled to his feet in front of Dina, ready to defend her.
The head rolled until it stopped next to Gideon’s boot. He kicked it and the rest of the body into the writhing mass of Darklings.
In a feeding frenzy, the Darklings swarmed the corpse. It wasn’t enough. He flung Dina to the ground and shielded her with his body. Teeth sunk into his shoulder and ripped away a chunk. Normally, Darklings couldn’t ingest grace infused flesh. Laced with his disgrace, his flesh must’ve been a gourmet delicacy because every Darkling wanted a nibble.
A pulse went through the Cruor and its circumference diminished. It was about to close.
Dina screamed and kicked.
In their excitement, the Darklings swarmed over the Executioner, sending it skidding his way. Gideon reached for it, but it was still too far. If he moved, Dina would be exposed.
A weight landed on his back, pinning him and Dina to the spot while the Darklings continued to feed and the Cruor continued to shrink.
Clutching the vial in one hand, and Dina huddling underneath him, they were out of options. Here they would stay. He glanced at Dina’s bloody face.
“Do it. C-close the C-Cruor.” She batted away a Darkling.
Gideon nodded, agreeing with everything she said…and couldn’t do it. He couldn’t trap her here with him.
The injustice of it all: His UnHallowed state, her fallen status and sudden humanity, their impending doom. The anger, hate, and anguish exploded inside him.
Along with a well of power he hadn’t experienced since he was an angel. From the inside out he ignited. A low glow emanated from his skin, not as bright as Dina’s when she had her grace. It was there. The Darklings recoiled and regrouped a few feet away. He was too tasty a treat to abandon without a fight.
Out of arm’s reach, his sword rattled. The connection he never thought he’d feel again, reawakened. His finger tingled for the cool metal, an indescribable itch only his blade could quench. “To my hand!” He called to the Empyreal blade and his sword answered.
The hilt was warm, his palm heated from the contact, yet he did not burn. He climbed to his feet. A wall of Darklings faced him with more pouring out of the alleys and joined in. They swarmed, fighting each other for the next bite.
He gripped the sword and forced his will into the blade. Purifying flames marched down the length of the steel. Gideon raised his weapon and let out a war cry. Darklings came, hundreds, thousands, in numbers too many to count.
Dina climbed to her feet and pressed her back against his. She moved with him, guarding his back as he permanently ended the demons surrounding them.
The Cruor flickered and shrank again. Now, it was no bigger than a baseball diamond.
“Give me the vial!” Dina shouted.
He handed it over and killed another dozen Darklings with a sweep of his blade. “Go for it. I got your back.”
He didn’t need to see her climb up the statue and reach for the Cruor. He knew that’s what she would do because it was what he would do. He backed up and covered her retreat.
“What now?” she screamed.
Gideon risked a glance over his shoulder. How she managed to balance precariously at the highest point of the indiscriminate mound of marble, stretched on her tip-toes, he’d never know.
“Coat the rim of the portal with Braile’s grace,” he shouted. A Darkling reached for her, his claws extended to dig into her thigh. Gideon skewered the demon and flung it away. “Hurry!”
She paused with the vial in her hand and looked over her shoulder. Her anxious gaze snared him. “And then what?”
“You go through. And live.”
Her eyes blazed with determination. “I’m not leaving you, Gideon.”
The Cruor shrank to the size of a postcard. “Do it now, Dina! Now!”
She poured the essence into her palm and smeared the light-infused grace around the rim. The earth heaved and pitched Gideon into the air. He rose high enough to see the Cruor suck Dina inside.
But the stubborn human gripped the rim and wouldn’t go. “Gideon! Give me your hand!”
A dozen or more Darklings were between them. They streamed toward the portal. Now that the feast was over, they sought an escape. No better buffet than the mortal realm and the weak-willed humans.
He’d never make it. However, he could prevent them from escaping. His blade aflame, he swept through the throng of Darklings, his blade dangerously close to the portal when she leaned further out.
Too far into the moti
on, he couldn’t stop the arc of the sword. Not only would it severe her hand, but the purifying flames would burn her alive. So close to having a chance at redemption, she would die, caught between Heaven and Hell.
The end of the blade slapped into her palm.
The flames vanished the instant it touched her skin. She gripped the blade. Blood dripped between her clenched fingers. Below, the Darklings went into a frenzy at the taste of human blood.
“Hold on, Gideon!” She pulled just as he was about to order her to let go. Gideon clutched the hilt of the Executioner, watching the Cruor shrink around the blade.
He wouldn’t make it, it wasn’t possible, but he held on. At the last second, before he touched the sliver of Cruor left, he closed his eyes.
Gravity dumped him onto the sidewalk next to an abandoned factory. He didn’t have a chance to ask where, what, why, or how, because his attention was riveted on Dina.
She still had her bloody hand wrapped around the tip of his sword. But cupped in her other hand was Braile’s shimmery essence. That hand she pressed against the remains of the Cruor.
The last energy of the portal to Hell vanished with a spark and the muffled screech of Darklings’ cries.
On wobbly legs, she limped over and collapsed next to him. She pulled him into her arms and grinned at him. “It’s done. The portal is closed.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
“What do you mean you’re leaving? Where are you going?” Chay blocked the doorway to the training center.
Gideon didn’t want to run him over, but Dina waited next to his brand new Ducati Monster. Painted on low-rise jeans hugged a pair of long legs and a heart-shaped ass. A cropped leather jacket covered her top and shades covered her eyes, but she watched him. The weight of her gaze burned slowly, sweetly, he’d never tire from it.
A long breath cleared the lust from his brain. Time to go. He wanted to show her another way to fly that didn’t require wings. They were out of here for parts unknown. Maybe they’d stop when they reached the Pacific Ocean, or maybe not. “We’ll be back, Chay. I don’t know when, but we will be back.”
“You can’t just ride off into the sunset. This isn’t a fucking western and you’re not Eastwood.”
Gideon clapped Chay on the shoulder. He leaned close to his ear and whispered, “Do me a favor. Promise you’ll ask Sophie out before we return.”
Chay scowled. “That isn’t an answer. Michael told you to stay put. He wants to know why the Demoni Lords didn’t find you in Hell.”
“The Cruor is closed, sealed with the sacrifice of an Archangel. Dina and I did what we were created to do.” He loved using her words because they were so right. The price they paid was high, yet worth it when he could still hold her, kiss her, and love her for as long as she lived. He’d be damned again if he wasted another second in Michigan.
“Michael’s not gonna find that answer by us staying here. We’ll send him a postcard.” He picked Chay up and physically moved him out of the way. “Now, I’m gonna call Scarla to make sure you ask Sophie out.”
He hopped on the bike and Dina got on behind him. She scooted close and held on tight. The feel of her body snug against his back, her arms holding him tight, hands on his belt buckle for easy access, damn he was going to enjoy this ride. “And I’m cuter than Eastwood ever was.” He gunned the cycle, let the back tire smoke the asphalt, and tore out of the parking lot.
Everything he cared about was on the bike with him. And their future began right now.
Epilogue
Sword raised in a defensive posture, Gemma waited for the first attack to come. Her gaze darted between the four Demoni Lords cornering her inside of a vast cavern. North, East, South, and West, all her exits were blocked. Expecting horns, fangs, malformed bodies, expressing the depravity of the many sins, nothing prepared her for the stunning beauty of their male forms and majestic wings.
The one to her North had hair, darker than a raven with wings and eyes whiter than snow. The one to her East had hair the color of sunset with flame colored wings to match. All of him seemed aflame. The Demoni Lord to her West was bald with leathery skin, abraded patches over chest and abs. He had no wings, yet electricity crackled around him, and burnt ozone scented the air. And last, the one to her south had marbled skin with fiery copper and gossamer spider web wings. A veneer of malevolence shrouded each.
Regardless of their beauty, evil wore many faces, and they would meet their final death beneath the edge of her Empyreal blade.
She hadn’t meant to enter the Cruor, but her lunge to snatch Dina away resulted in epic failure. The Cruor seemed to reach out and suck her inside before she could react. Her rescue mission had left her stranded in Hell. She doubted Dina even knew she was here.
The Lords twitched, their attention alternating between themselves and her. Were they planning something? She couldn’t give them the chance to plan an offensive.
Unable to settle on one, her gaze danced between the Lords. Each were impossibly strong. She’d only have one chance to succeed. This had to work or she would die. Chances were she would die.
I will take some of you with me.
Pondering which one to attack first, she simply asked, “All right. Which one of you will die first?”
The most macabre grin spread across each of their faces. They were eager… and more than ready. Fear snaked up her spine and spread in every direction. She refused to tremble.
Gemma settled into her attack stance and locked her emotions down. This was what she had trained for. One by one, or all together, they would die.
Or she would. She forced her will into her sword, igniting every inch of the blade in flames.
At once, they all charged.
Her battle cry was the last thing she heard.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Thank you for reading Only the Fallen. I hope you enjoyed the novel.
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Ready for the next novel in the UnHallowed series? The struggle to protect the Cruor continues in Only One I Want. Keep reading for a sneak peek of the first two chapters!
Touched by the divine, Amaya Prince is a weapon, existing for one purpose—kill all creatures of Hell, including UnHallowed. But when the Archangel Michael approaches her with words she’s longed to hear since childhood, she can’t refuse his plea for help.
For UnHallowed Bane, nothing is more important than returning to Heaven and rejoining the Celestial Order. The former warrior angel has spent millennia on Earth atoning for his betrayal. When Michael offers him a shot at redemption, he accepts…even if it means deceiving his fellow UnHallowed.
Each with their own agenda, Bane and Amaya must put their differences aside and rely on one another in order to protect mankind from demons determined on opening the portal to Hell. But with secrets unfolding and passions flaring, humanity won’t be the only thing at stake.
Prologue
Twenty-two years ago.
Braile, Chancellor of the Celestial Army, tucked his wings close to his body and plummeted from the night sky. Wind streamed over his feathers and empyreal armor in a cold caress he would’ve enjoyed if the screams of the dying didn’t spur him on. He banked right, away from the skyscrapers and the city lights, toward the sprawling suburbs, and further still to the tiny farm towns dotting Middle A
merica. Another cry, another fervent prayer tore through his mind.
He usually ignored the screams of the dying. The fragile humans died every second of every day, by the thousands. In their sleep, murdered, diseased, aged, in a myriad of ways, death claimed each one. They were born to die, their time on earth fleeting. Their time in the hereafter either everlasting peace or eternal damnation.
And never had he heard a single prayer.
That wasn’t his job. He wasn’t a comfort angel who saw to the disposition of souls or a reaper who harvested souls. At the pinnacle of the warrior class, Braile was charged with leading those who defended the realm against Demoni Lords and their Darkling minions. Legions of angels obeyed his command; nevertheless, he homed in on his target, summoned because he could not ignore the prayers. Those demanded his answer. Because she said his name, and no other. A human female cried out to him.
Why?
Why now after eons of silence had he received prayers?
Seconds from crashing, his wings snapped open and he touched down on a desolate state road stretched between two rural towns.
To his right, an African American male lay at the base of a tree, head partially detached from his body. Ten feet behind the deceased was a mangled car, metal pieces scattered everywhere. Braile went to neither. He stood in the middle of the road, unswayed. The dead wasn’t the one who called to him.
Sulfur polluted the air. A Darkling trap. Cautious, he studied the woods on either side of the road, his hand rested on the hilt of his empyreal sword. He’d existed too long to be anything but cautious.
Nothing came from the trees, except the chirping of birds and the rustle of leaves.
The vehicle lay on its side. Smoke curled from the engine and fuel dripped from the ruptured fuel tank. Glass crunched beneath his boot and he stopped. He walked around the wish-boned front bumper to see a shattered windshield. More glass on the inside than the outside, he noted. No blood on the glass or the hood of the car. He moved to the male. The slice to the neck was clean, precise, not the act of traveling through a windshield and smashing into a tree. Something else had caused his death.
Only the Fallen (UnHallowed Series Book 1) Page 13