by ML Guida
Michael cocked his eyebrow. “What do you think you’re doing?”
The Archangel’s power electrified Scythe’s skin. He cringed, but forced himself to stand straight. This wasn’t good. Any minute, Michael could snap his fingers and he’d be dead. “Leave him alone.”
“Why is this so important to you?”
Scythe blinked. “You’re kidding, right?”
“No, I’m not. You’re one of the Dark Angels.” He pointed his sword. “He’s a demon. Now answer the question.”
“He hasn’t completely turned.”
Michael flashed his gaze over Blade. He stepped around him. “This is no time for a bleeding heart.”
Scythe grabbed his arm. Radiant heat scalded his palm, and he fell screaming to his knees. He knew he’d regret this, but he shouted. “Don’t be a righteous ass.”
Michael grabbed Scythe’s hair. “Never call me that.”
“I’m sorry.” Time for another tact. “Michael, please, I’m begging you.”
“No.” The Archangel threw him onto the ground.
Scythe fell flat on his stomach and gasped for breath and sucked in pine needles and dirt.
“Don’t interfere, Scythe,” Michael ordered.
Yeah, like he’d play dead and watch Michael cut his brother into sushi. Not happening. He crawled back onto his knees. He spat out dirt and snapped his fingers. A log appeared in his hand.
Blade darted into the woods, but Michael sliced his hand through the air.
His eyes wide, Blade reappeared on his hands and knees.
“Going somewhere?”
“Let me go,” he said. “Shit. I-I-I can’t move.”
“I don’t think so.” Michael walked over to him. “Now, Demon, you will pay for your sins.”
With angelic speed, Scythe stood in front of Blade. “No.”
“You’ve got a death wish, Angel?” Michael growled.
Scythe dropped his arms to his side. His innards turned to mush. He met Michael’s terrifying gaze. “Take me instead. I’ll pay for his sins.”
Michael flung his head back and laughed. The wind whistled and lightning flashed in the skies. “Fool. Do you think I would hesitate killing both of you? You’ve always walked too close to the edge for my taste anyway.”
Tiny electrodes pulsated over his skin. Scythe trembled. Heather lay motionless on the ground. Scratches and blood marred her delicate hands. A blanket covered her face. Only strands of her beautiful hair escaped from the blanket. He wished he could kiss her one more time before he met his fate.
“Scythe, you fool,” Blade said.
Michael stopped laughing. The lightning and wind ceased. “We’ll see who you care for more.” He gazed at Scythe. “But your name is written in the book, Blade. Your brother’s isn’t.” He waved his hand.
Michael shoved Scythe to the side. Scythe tried to move, but his feet failed to respond.
Michael strolled around, Blade who had the good instinct to cringe. Scythe sucked in his breath. Now what was he doing?
Scythe’s heart stopped. “No, Michael, please don’t hurt her.” He was powerless. “I beg you. Kill me instead.”
“Kill her, Michael. Kill her,” Blade said. “It’s her fault this happened. She deserves to die.”
Scythe clenched his fists. “Blade, shut up. It wasn’t her fault and you know it.”
Michael glanced over his shoulder at Scythe, then Blade. “Scythe, still think your brother’s worth saving?”
“Please, no,” Scythe whispered.
Michael bent over and grabbed Heather’s arm, lifting her into his arms. She moaned and Scythe seethed. If he made one false move or did anything rash, she was dead.
“Now, you will see how it feels, brother.” Blade laughed—a crazy laugh that chilled Scythe to the core.
Michael walked over to Blade. “Shut up, tainted one.” He kicked him in the chest. Blade yelped like a wounded coyote. His laughter ceased and only short gasps escaped his mouth. No doubt he had broken ribs or worse.
Scythe stood still as the Archangel approached him holding Heather in his arms as if she were a deflated Barbie doll. He laid her at Scythe’s feet and moved his hand over her face. Her hair parted. Scythe gasped. Both of her eyes were swollen, turning purple and black. Blood dripped from her mouth. She had long scratches down her right cheek and her left side had bulged into the size of a grapefruit. Her ripped shirt revealed deep ugly scratches and cuts. Crimson trickled from a slash on her side.
Michael examined her. “She has some broken ribs and deep cuts. Unfortunately, from a hellish blade.”
Scythe shook his head. “But they didn’t have weapons. I saw them fighting fist-to-fist.”
“You really think a demon fights fair? Even a demon brother?”
Scythe refused to agree and stayed quiet.
“The bastard gave Susan a knife and made sure your angel-mate had none. You were so busy fighting to save him…”
Blade still fought to breathe. He clawed the dirt with his fingers. The pain must be incredible.
Running his hand through his hair, Scythe’s thoughts bombarded him. Hurt Blade. Kill Blade. “No, don’t hurt him.”
“Why? She’s dying,” Michael inquired.
“What?” his voice croaked. “No, she’s not. I gave her Christ’s Most Precious Blood Cross and I’ve mated with her.”
“The Xanadu.”
“You can heal…”
“Raphael went over this with you, correct?”
“Yeah, but…”
“No buts.”
Michael pointed his finger down and Scythe sank to the ground. He didn’t care about Michael. All he cared about was Heather. He put his palm over Heather’s mouth and nearly wept when her hot breath exhaled onto his skin. She was weak, but alive.
“Xanadu attacks any mortal wounds and kills the victim. It’s from hell. What did you expect? She’s not immortal until she accepts being your angel-mate.”
“Bless you.” Scythe cradled Heather against his chest and buried his face into her hair. He buried his tears into her soft strands. “Heather,” he whispered in her ear. “Wake up.”
She groaned. Hope soared through Scythe. Her eyes fluttered, but remained closed. His hope withered.
“He killed your angel-mate,” Michael said.
Scythe lifted his head. Michael turned and walked over to Blade. He hung his head. It would be easy for Michael to cut off his head.
He kissed Heather on her sleek forehead. Salt coated his lips. He lowered her onto the grass. “I love you.” She moaned and her eyebrows furrowed, but she didn’t wake. He followed Michael’s steps. “No, don’t.”
Michael lifted the sword.
Scythe lunged and landed on top of his brother.
“Get off me,” Blade mumbled.
“Shut up.” Scythe could feel his brother’s thumping heart and despite his brave front, Blade trembled and beads of sweat glistened off his forehead. He was like a little boy about ready to be jumped by the playground bully.
“Get. Off. Him. Now.” Michael’s cruel voice struck fear in Scythe’s heart.
Power emitted from those few words. Scythe hated disappointing him, but he couldn’t let his brother die. “No.”
Blade bucked him, but Scythe wrapped his arms around his waist.
“I don’t need your help,” Blade panted. “I don’t need anyone’s help.”
“Stuff it.” Scythe wanted to shake him, but despite his snarling voice, Blade was about as fierce as a newborn calf against a pissed off mountain lion.
Michael scratched Scythe’s hand with his fingernails and then wrenched his neck back. No mercy reflected in his silver eyes. “I won’t ask you again.”
Beneath him, Blade struggled. The fool. Didn’t he realize any minute he’d be a dead demon?
Scythe met Michael’s lethal gaze. “I won’t leaving him.”
“He needs to pay for his sins.”
“Take me instead,” Scythe blurted ag
ain. A hollow pit filled him at not seeing Heather, but he knew Michael. Michael wouldn’t let her die. Scythe had to believe. He had to trust him. Her life depended on it.
Michael shook his head. “So, we are back to this again?”
“I’ll die for his sins.”
“Have it your way.” He pressed Excalibur to Scythe’s neck, the sharp blade cut into his skin. Wetness trickled down his throat and onto his chest. He couldn’t even swallow. Any minute, he’d be a headless dark angel.
Chapter 20
Lightning hit the ground. Everything lit up as if a giant light bulb flicked on. Michael lowered his sword. “Shit.”
Swallowing, Scythe put his hand to his throat. Electricity hung in the hair.
“Not cool, Michael.”
Scythe raised his head. “Raphael.”
Raphael had his arms folded across his chest. His hair fell across his shoulders and he had on a denim jacket and jeans. Scythe cocked his eyebrow. “Where are your shoes?”
“His goons took them.”
“Bite me,” Michael said.
Raphael waved his hand, and the moon glowed brighter. “Now, what do we have here?” He tapped his lips. “Ah, right. You’re wanted back home.”
Michael put Excalibur back in its sheath. “Ran and told?”
“Like you wouldn’t.”
“I’m not a pansy ass tattletale.”
“Ah, locking me up so you can renege on your deal isn’t a minor offense, bro.”
“Yeah, whatever.”
“The Boss wants to see you. Now.”
Michael raised his eyebrow. “You’re loving this, aren’t you?”
Scythe trembled. The one entity no one crossed in Heaven was Saint Peter. He oversaw all the Angels, including the Archangels. He was the mouthpiece for all the Heavy Weights. It always rubbed Michael the wrong way that a human was his boss rather than God, especially since he had the job first.
Michael didn’t question orders, but it didn’t mean he liked it. Saint Peter could throw an angel into Purgatory for disobedience, which wasn’t a fun place to be, not with all the human souls begging to be taken to Heaven. Michael absolutely hated whining. But the worst part was being separated from the Heavenly Host and feeling alone and vulnerable and forsaken. Not that Michael was in danger, but he had some definite fast talking to do. Scythe wouldn’t want to be wearing his wings.
Raphael waved. “Bye, bro.”
“I’ll remember this.” Michael vanished.
Scythe frowned. “So, how did you get out?”
“You.”
“What? How?”
“You offered to switch places with your brother. If you can believe it, it was the key to releasing me from my cell. Michael never bet you would do it.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It’s what I said. Michael didn’t make a physical key. It was the words or more the sincere intention of you willing to lay down your life for your brother.”
“That’s fucking bullshit,” Blade said. “Get off me!”
Raphael chuckled. “Ah, coming from someone who Michael almost had his balls on a platter.”
Scythe slid to the side. “So, you’re going to heal him now.”
“I will.”
Scythe breathed a sigh of relief. He’d done it. He’d saved his brother’s soul. They could be brothers again. “Then do it.”
Raphael held up his palm. “In good time, my boy.”
Scythe frowned. “What? But you said…”
Blade wiggled on the ground like a worm. “Let me up.”
“Not just yet.” Raphael strolled around Blade as if he was an interesting beast at the zoo..
“What do you mean?” Blade growled.
Raphael stood in front of Blade. “You and I have unfinished business.”
His hair dangling in his face, Blade peered through his strands of hair. “Stay away from me.”
“Oh, I won’t do anything to you.”
Scythe couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “So you’re not…”
Raphael glared. “Assume anything.”
Above a star twinkled brighter than any of the others. Its tail sparkled, growing longer. A piece broke and floated down through the dark sky like a blazing comet.
Raphael pushed Scythe off his brother, then dragged Blade to his feet. “Someone wants to talk to you, boy.”
“Who?”
“You’ll see,” Raphael said.
Dread sank into Scythe’s gut. He glanced at his brother. Blade’s face paled, and he gritted his teeth. A smell of sweet red roses filled the air.
Scythe looked at Raphael. “Who is it?”
Raphael shrugged.
Scythe looked at Blade and at Raphael. “Don’t do this.”
“You didn’t think he’d be unscathed, did you?”
Scythe wanted to smack Raphael’s curious face, but he couldn’t move his arms. Damn, him!
The sparkling star transformed into a bubble twirling and swirling in the air. It gently descended, passing the silhouette of the mountains and pine and aspen trees. When the bottom of the bubble touched down, it burst. A woman stood there. The moon glistened on her long red hair. Her white gown twinkled in the light.
Blade fell onto his knees. “It can’t be.”
She walked across the ground barefoot or more like floated. When she came to Blade, she stopped. She looked down at Blade, her illuminating eyes filled with sorrow.
“Samantha,” Blade whispered.
Samantha caressed his cheek. Blade closed his eyes, leaning his face against her palm.
“You’ve made quite a mess of things,” she said.
Scythe glanced at Raphael, who had a smug look on his face. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“My punishment is a little different from Michael’s,” he said. Like that was supposed to make this all right, torturing his brother with his angel-mate.
“You’re an ass,” Scythe mumbled.
Blade opened his eyes. He clasped her hand. “I did this all for you.”
Samantha pushed his hair out of his face. “For me?”
“Yes, I love you.”
She gave him a sad smile. “If you truly loved me, you wouldn’t have done this.”
He clasped both his hands around hers. “How can you say that? You were my angel-mate.”
Desperation rang in his voice.
“Was I?” She pulled her hand from his.
Blade hung his head and slumped his shoulders. A lump formed in Scythe’s throat. If Heather had spoken those words, she’d rip Scythe’s heart out.
Heather was still alive, sleeping peacefully, but Blade’s mate was dead, a soul, no longer living flesh. Samantha’s presence was an illusion. Scythe wanted to run over to Heather and gather her in his arms to make sure she was real, but he remained in place.
Blade lifted his head. “Why don’t you believe me?”
“Because I was never your angel-mate.”
Anger flashed in his eyes. “What the hell are you talking about? Did Michael talk to you? Brainwash you?”
“Blade, I loved you, but I wasn’t chosen for you.” She ran her hand down his arm. “Someone else was.”
“Bullshit,” Blade spat. “The Archangels are fucking with your mind.”
“I’m dead, Blade. I don’t have a mind.”
Scythe winced. Brutal, but true.
Blade ran his hands through his hair. “Yes, you do. Your essence is still the same.” He glared at Raphael. “You did this to her, you bastard. I swear to God I’m going…”
“To kill me?” Raphael finished the sentenced. “That would be a neat trick. Keep your pants on and listen to her.”
“She doesn’t know what the hell she’s talking about. She’s mine. My angel-mate.”
He roared the last two words. His pain twisted Scythe’s stomach into a tangled bow. He wanted to say something, anything, but no words came to mine. What was Raphael’s game? At least, Michael had been str
aight with his intention. “Blade…”
“Shut up, shut up.” Blade threw his hands up in the air. “You’re part of this.”
Blade stormed over to him and punched Scythe in the jaw. Scythe staggered. Pain exploded on his chin, and metallic ran in his mouth. Scythe clenched his fist and swung. He smacked Blade in the stomach and he doubled over.
“No!” Samantha cried. “Stop. Both of you.”
Raphael grabbed Scythe’s arm. “She’s right.” The same healing power surged through Scythe. His broken shoulder bone mended and his torn muscle wove back together. He moved his fingers. “I’m not gonna…”
“Yeah, you are.” The finality in Raphael’s voice squashed Scythe’s urge to beat the crap out of his brother.
Blade stood, holding his gut and giving Scythe a death glare. Blade clenched his fist and Scythe stiffened, ready for another punch.
Samantha touched Blade’s shoulder. “You need to stop. Look at me.”
Blade was breathing fast, but he looked at Samantha.
Samantha gestured with her hand toward Scythe. “You know he didn’t kill me.”
“But he could have saved you. He knew…”
“That I was your angel-mate? You’re still not listening. I’m not your angel-mate. I’ve moved on.”
“Excuse me?” Blade said. “You don’t want me anymore.”
His hurt voice reminded Scythe of a teenage boy rejected by his first crush.
She threw her head back and laughed. “I want you, but I’m a spirit. We can’t be together. It wasn’t destiny.”
“Quit saying that.”
“Why? Because it’s true.” She walked away from him. “I’ve seen your angel-mate.”
Scythe turned to Raphael and cocked his eyebrow. “You will actually let her see the woman who will replace her?”
Raphael shrugged. “She asked.”
Blade pointed at Samantha. “She didn’t deserve that, you bastard.”
Samantha shook her finger. “Blade will you stop shouting and raving like an animal?”
“He shouldn’t have done that to you,” Blade insisted. His little boy voice attempted to justify his actions.
“If you would stop acting like a crazed demon, you’d be able to see I’m happy and at peace. I don’t want to be an angel-mate. I’m happy where I am.”