by Renee Pace
“You can’t say that to her. Remember what I told you, earlier?
Nathanael arched a brow at her questioning. Immediately, he felt guilty for his actions, but Meredith stood her ground.
“Oh yes, I can. And I will. It’s the one thing that will make her see the wrong of her actions.”
“But to punish her when—”
Nat broke proper protocol. Gently, he touched Meredith’s shoulder. “I would never lay a hand on her, Meredith, have no fear.”
Meredith gave him a tentative smile. “I’m glad you came for her. I believe in the ways of the Mistress and she still does too, in her heart. You are two souls meant to be together. I beg thee, be gentle.”
Oh I’ll be gentle all right, after I shake some sense into her. Nat didn’t say a word of what he thought, but by the growing smile on Meredith’s face she might have an inkling of where his mind headed.
He nodded, letting Meredith slip away. Nothing with Isabella was easy and tonight no exception. Knowing she purposely sought the demons, causing her fellow Cherubs to fear for her, was not her right. Making my heart race with anger is not acceptable either.
What is my heavenly wife thinking? She could be killed. His palms started to sweat when he realized exactly the danger she was facing, alone and on purpose. Nat raced out of the prayer room, and down the stairs, dread knotted like a twisting vine through him. That’s exactly what she is trying to do. If she couldn’t serve her penance to the satisfaction of the Mistress, her heavenly soul could be freed the minute she sacrificed herself attempting to kill a demon. If she died before he found her, Nat knew he would be alone for eternity, bound to the heavenly realm with no wife, doomed with the knowledge he shouldn’t have walked away two nights ago.
He hadn’t been Seraphim enough to understand he had hurt her when he’d left, refusing to talk about her hatred for the Mistress. Not Sera enough to realize he’d been blasted to his own version of Hell when she had told him who had cut off her wings. Nat raced against the darkness, fearing his time dwelling in self-pity would become his ultimate penance.
Chapter Eight
The fight, exactly what she needed tonight, pleased her aching heart. Nathanael had fled and she didn’t blame him. What Seraphim wanted a mutilated, imperfect Cherub? Obviously not him. She didn’t like how his leaving evoked emotions she didn’t want to examine too closely.
For the first time in a long time he caused her to question her original notions of taking up arms. Izzy shook her head. She took up arms to defend herself, a right all females should enjoy. She’d gone against tradition once because she believed she mattered. She might have been born a Cherub but that didn’t mean she couldn’t be something more. The heavenly realm might not accept her actions to take up arms in the war, but after all she’d suffered she wouldn’t cave to the expectations of others.
Still, after fighting Earth demons for years, she felt she was no closer to understanding their purpose. For every demon she slayed, a dozen more would show up in Boston.
Standing in the middle of the alley, she pulled up her sleeves to expose her bare arms. Withdrawing the small knife she kept in her boot she winced as she made a long cut in each arm. It might hurt her to cut her own flesh but the allure of her golden-hued blood, which smelled like incense drew demons like bees to flowers.
At one time, Izzy had tried interrogating the human-turned demons but she’d quickly discovered that was a waste of time. The humans who had been demon-turned had no inkling of why; they only sought one thing—to turn more humans into demons. It was a vicious cycle. Before Nathanael had arrived, she’d been getting quite weary of her lonely, one-sided battle, but she’d fought for them to take up arms and slay demons, so Izzy wasn’t about to quit anytime soon.
“Why I do believe it’s dinnertime,” said an ugly demon who materialized from behind two large Dumpsters.
The fetid smell of the demon’s breath forced her attention to the task at hand. “Don’t you demons bathe? Or better yet, brush your teeth? I’m sure I’ve got a mint somewhere in one of my pockets, and I’m begging you to chew it before I have to kill you.”
From the corner of Izzy’s eye she noted two more demons trying to sneak up on her to the right. The ugly demon jumped right in front of her face and smacked Isabella’s face hard. Her neck jarred so much, Izzy heard something crack. She spat. “That had better not scar.”
“Me master said you’d be the cocky one.”
“Really? Izzy had never heard a demon mentioning its master before and this development gave her pause. The demon, still wearing his blue pin-striped business suit, which now had vomit on the front, glared at her. He had recently been taken, and the black stain of his soul still crept up around his neck. In another day his entire flesh would be grayish black. Then again, he’s not going to live to see another day. She waited until the two to her right grew surer of their so-called skills.
Bracing for a punch to her gut, she eyed the other demons, both were older by a dozen years. It still amazed Izzy that no Earth-born angels seemed to be aware of the demons’ existence. She’d made the mistake once of telling the madam who ran the Earth-bound Cherub safe house about them and didn’t need to be told twice to keep her mouth shut. If only they’d run them over, preferably in one of their Porsches. A vision of doing that made her crack a smile. The punch to her gut stole her breath away. She crumpled to her knees, barely avoiding falling flat on her face. Her jeans ripped, making her see red.
“Okay, now I’m pissed. Those jeans were expensive and I seriously hate shopping. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get jeans when you’re almost six feet and not a size zero in this town? You are so dead.”
Izzy jumped up, startling them, and kicked out with her leg to let her arms go wide, her aim dead on as she let glide her morning stars dipped in holy water. The newly turned demon in front of her gasped and fell to his knees. Izzy quite enjoyed the still-shocked look on his face, a look she instantly classified in the ‘what-a-girl-killed-me?’ category a second before he vaporized.
Smiling sweetly, she turned toward the older demons. “Now it’s your turn.”
They both grinned, but the shorter one drooled like a dog. Fear spiked inside her for the first time in thirty-six hours as Izzy watched the dark shadows of the alley morph into ghostlike figures. Izzy did a slow clap. “Wow, something new for a change.” Moving into the middle of the grimy alley, she braced her legs for impact. She counted fifteen figures, each with red-glowing demon eyes. They might move like zombies but she knew firsthand they weren’t a myth.
The demons who had morphed from the shadows weren’t human-turned demons coming at her, rather Hell’s minions, and her heart started to race. The last time she’d fought them had been in the heavens and it certainly hadn’t been easy. Without a doubt, Izzy knew she was now in for the fight of her life. For a minute true regret for her irrational actions washed over her. She couldn’t die. Her sisters needed her.
One large, shadowy figure edged toward her. “This is the one.”
“The one. Why thank you.” If she could play them along for a bit longer, she might be able to reach the two knives tucked into the holster underneath her shirt. Confidently, she placed her arms on her hips, ensuring her fingers were a little higher up than normal, getting ready for a quick grab.
With four minions surrounding her, Izzy prayed for a quick death. “Now would be a good time to have wings,” she said. A manic chuckle flew from her lips.
When they lunged, she grabbed her knives, squatted, and let them fly. No evaporation. Her knives simply flew through the demons like they weren’t there. The one with the death grip on her outstretched leg certainly felt solid enough to her. Punching him in the face felt real too. Why did her knives not work?
The human-demon grasped Izzy by the hair, hauling her up until her legs were suspended at least a foot off the ground. Kicking him in the nuts, she wondered for a second if he still had any. When he dropped her instantly to the
ground, she grinned. Guess you’ve still got your jewels. Not for long though. Yanking her last knife out from her boot, she turned around and knifed him in the belly. He roared and then thankfully evaporated. “At least one of you is acting demon-like tonight.”
The rush of minions coming at Izzy made her want to flee. Heart galloping like a Pegasus, she stupidly stood her ground, wounded and bloodied, but she’d fight them all. Probably not a long fight, but she wasn’t one to run, ever. Taking on demons was real work. Better than sitting at the apartment, thinking. Izzy wanted to avoid examining the emotions Nathanael evoked in her for the place that had been at one time her loving home. The had been part knifed her still.
* * *
Nat heard Isabella scream. His heart stopped beating but thankfully his legs picked up speed. Rounding the corner of a large office building, he stormed into the darkened alley. He balked at the scene.
Isabella struggled in the middle of at least a dozen minions. Nat did the only thing he could think of to get them off her. He swung his heavenly Kita hard, slicing through the minions with ease. They might appear shadowlike, but the minute his heavenly blessed sword came into contact with them they were sent back to their Hell realm. Every time a minion punched him, searing pain burned his flesh.
Isabella was too wounded to do anything but lay on the filthy ground, and it took willpower for Nat to ignore her when all he wanted to do was grab her and flee. Seraphim do not run from battle. While his skin burned from the direct contact from the minions he kept swinging his Kita. His shoulder muscles ached but he’d be damned if he’d let on. Mowing down minions wasn’t easy and with only two left to confront, he prayed no more materialized. Sweat dotted his forehead and he longed to swipe it but he couldn’t afford to be distracted.
He lunged the sword straight into the heart of one of the last minion that came at him. In quick succession he took care of the last one. For a second, Nat could have sworn he saw another minion in the darkest part of the alley, but when he looked again, nothing was there. Isabella moaned. The sound, a desperate plea, brought her fully to his attention. Her golden life essence flowed freely around her, so much yellow it could have lit up the alley. Nat scooped up Isabella, running with her in his arms back to her sisters. He prayed he wasn’t too late. He prayed he’d be granted time to make amends.
“Did we defeat them?” Her voice was weak, so unlike the commanding Isabella persona he’d grown accustomed to, and it almost made Nat stumble.
“We certainly did,” he said. “Isabella, keep your eyes open. Stay awake.”
“Why? It’s so nice when I close my eyes. You know what I see?”
He knew what she saw. “What?” Nat would talk about anything to keep her awake. Terror, if she truly closed her eyes for good she’d slip from him, made him quicken his pace. Two more of these cursed blocks. He noticed for the first time how the humans didn’t offer assistance, not that he’d take it, but their total lack of humanity and morality struck him like a blow.
“What do you see?” repeated Nat, his voice choked with emotion.
“I see the lovely orange-red sands of my homeland, Mount Ch’rb. My heaven. Let me go, Nathanael.”
“You will live.” He would resort to commanding her to do such, if forced.
Her eyes fluttered open once more. “But I want to go home, Nathanael. Please…please let me go.”
Nathanael’s heart and soul broke. He was a selfish bastard, having learned that human expression the other night, he now fully understood the phrase. “You would leave your sisters to mankind without you?”
She cursed him in ancient Hebrew and hissed in pain. Her breathing shallowed, her form went limp, and she struggled to keep her eyelids open. A second later she was unconscious.
“I will take all your damning, but you must first live. I beg thee Mistress, with my soul…please let her live.”
Chapter Nine
“What do you mean, you can’t do anything else for her?” asked Nat to one trembling, tear-stained Meredith.
“I’ve done all I can. I made a promise to Izzy never to call a human doctor for her again. I can’t go back on that promise.”
A gasp from Isabella’s sisters made him realize he was acting irrationally. He was Seraphim, and they looked to him now for guidance. “But what if that doctor can help?”
“She would rather die.”
Nathanael knew Meredith spoke the truth but he didn’t know what else to do. “I know you are trying everything. What about if you all sing to her?”
Shea moved forward. Pleased he was learning some of their names—more importantly, their trust—he beckoned her closer. “You have something to say, Shea?”
“Nathanael, we have sung to her most of the night. There is no change. What I am suggesting is not the normal way of things, but maybe you should try singing to her.”
Nat fought not to laugh. Me, sing? Obviously she hasn’t heard me attempt to sing, and that’s a blessing. “Seraphim do not sing.”
“Actually, some do,” countered Shea, bowing her head, her hands nervously folded together.
“What?”
Keeping her head lowered, Shea rushed on with her words. “Isabella said her father sang to her mother whenever she felt sick. She said it had made her mother feel better.”
Nat noticed the tense of her sentence. He’d had no idea Isabella’s mother was no longer with them and again Nat questioned why he didn’t search out more information about his intended. It was also becoming clear to him that none of the Cherubs felt like they’d ever get the chance to go home again. And without Isabella, they truly would be lost.
“And did it?” asked Meredith, clearly as astonished at Nat.
Shea nodded. “What can it hurt?”
The sum of it had been said. Isabella had lost so much blood, Nathanael knew only a miracle would keep her tethered to them. If that miracle could by chance be his off-key voice, he’d swallow what pride he had, and sing his heart to the rafters.
“I will do it. I ask you all to pray for us,” he said. Muttering under his breath he added, “Cover your blessed ears.”
Meredith smiled sadly and Shea nodded, leading the other sisters to the prayer room. Nathanael removed his dirty shoes and socks, before walking barefoot into Isabella’s bedroom, her sanctuary. A blessed red candle sat in each corner of the bedroom to honor the Heavenly Mistress and to act as a beacon to guide her help. Incense burned in a small gold holder, the smell light and flowery.
Isabella shivered violently in the bed. Nat reached out and touched her sweaty forehead, expecting it to be burning hot. It was the opposite—ice cold—she shivered in the throes of a raging fever. It seemed she fought her inner demons, the ones that dared to take her away from him. Not knowing fully what to do, Nat quickly made a heart-wrenching decision. He crawled under the covers, drew her shivering form, clad in a simple shift, to his and started to sing, hoping his prayer-song worked a miracle. To hold his ordained heavenly wife in his arms was a true blessing, but knowing this could be the one and only time…not so much.
* * *
Meredith felt worn out. The last few days had been dizzy with the rediscovery of her faith and the belief the Mistress would change her mind. Meredith held fast to that, but the worry she’d felt for Isabella, knowing she fought the demons on her own made her mad. Meredith, like Izzy, could easily wield a weapon to slay a demon. They’d both taken up arms after watching demons slay their mothers. Together, they had sneaked from their rooms at night to meet up with the one Seraphim who had said he’d help. A Seraphim Meredith never wanted to see again. He’d treated them like an equal and it had been the first inkling for Meredith that there was more to her preordained Cherub life. And when the battle raged again in the heavens, Meredith hadn’t hesitated to slay demons. The fact she’d enjoyed killing them had made her seek more prayer time, but it hadn’t deterred her.
A soft rasp on her door startled Meredith. She knew instinctively it was Gareth. A nervou
s flutter started in her stomach and she tried hard to ignore it. Meredith opened the door wide, allowing him to enter her sanctuary. She didn’t want Gareth to see her worry or tear-stained face, so she turned her back to him and moved to sit on the edge of her bed.
Gareth slowly moved closer to the bed. “Meredith, what happened?”
Meredith composed herself and then turned her face so she could look up at him. He was so handsome, so inviting, so needing someone to love, and a part she tried hard to ignore yearned for him. The realization she had a crush on him caused her to falter. She had no right to be involved with him, or any human. She was damaged goods, exiled, and it was best for all for her to remember that. “I know I said I could help you, Gareth, but tonight…”
“Shh, it’s okay. I don’t need your help.”
Meredith knew Gareth lied, and even though her room was dark, she could make out his fidgeting hands.
“What happened?” he asked again, gently.
Meredith noticed how he kept standing, his feet braced apart like a warrior, ready to do battle when the war he waged was one deep within him. Meredith patted the spot on her bed, urging Gareth from his warrior-stance to sit beside her. She didn’t like looking up at him. He reminded her too much of the Seraphim who had taught her how to use morning stars and a sword. Worse, she knew if she asked Gareth to show her how to use his modern-day weapons, he wouldn’t hesitate. For a second, Meredith wondered why Izzy never went that route to fight the demons. Gareth would be delighted to teach her how to use weapons, but not once had Izzy asked. Mentally, Meredith made a note to investigate that.
“Izzy…”
“What about Izzy?” asked Gareth, carefully taking the spot next to her on the bed. Never in her wildest dreams had Meredith ever thought she’d have a human male sitting next to her in such an intimate setting.