Black Ops Fae

by C. N. Crawford

  It was quickly becoming clear that despite his angelic demigod status, despite ruling over a medieval palace with chained humans at his beck and call, despite all of his powers—this man’s ego was in need of some serious stroking.

  All alike. You men are all alike.

  Another white-hot burst of rage tore through me, and for just a moment I envisioned myself with immeasurable strength, ripping the arrogant angel from his throne, hurling him to the ground, and crushing my boot into his neck. My mouth watered.

  Aereus begs for his life as I thrust a blade between his ribs...

  “You look as though you’ve become lost in a fantasy.” Aereus’s voice boomed over the hall.

  “It’s hard not to fantasize in the presence of greatness.” I shrugged, looking down at the marble floor—a succubus who could be overwhelmed by the right godlike presence. “I can feed from humans, but they don’t excite me the way real power does.” I lifted my eyes to his in an invitation.

  A satisfied smile spread across Aereus’s chiseled features. “So it’s not Adonis who excites you in particular.”

  Slowly, I ran my fingertip over the front of my chest, tracing the curve of my breast. “It seems to me like your palace is bigger than his.” While volcanic rage surged inside me, I schooled my features—coy, compliant on the outside. I needed him to bring me into his inner sanctum, to find out where he kept his most important objects.

  I bit my lip, swaying my hips slightly from side to side. “Where do you rule from, Aereus? When you want to summon a war between the humans, when you want to drive them to destroy each other—do you make your decisions from here? From that throne?”

  He shook his head, and a phantom wind skimmed over my skin, dry and hot as the desert air.

  “Not from here, no.”

  Tuning in to my glamour, I focused on the tendrils of dark magic emanating from my body. I sent them spiraling through the air toward Aereus. “Can you show me your war room?”

  He studied me for an uncomfortably long time before nodding curtly at a guard behind me.

  When he rose from his throne, his body cast a long shadow over the floor.

  Wordlessly, he descended from the dais. With each footstep, the floor trembled as if he were an actual giant. Just after he passed me, he cast an impatient look over his shoulder. “I’ll take you to my war room. But first, a detour through my garden.”

  “A garden?” Given the whole war god thing, I’d been expecting something a little more brutal from him than gardening.

  As if reading my thoughts, Aereus replied, “It’s not as tame as it seems at first. In fact, it’s how I control my servants.”

  My throat went dry. I really didn’t want to be anywhere near this angel or his garden.

  Chapter 25

  I followed Aereus through a heavy door, and I squinted in the bright light outside. It took my eyes a few moments to adjust.

  At first, the garden’s wild beauty struck me. It wasn’t the stark, elegant beauty of Adonis’s garden, but a vibrant riot of color—roses in shades of violet and pumpkin, cherry-red, deep amber, mulberry, and indigo. I breathed in the heavy floral scent.

  Sunlight gleamed off the golden sheen of Aereus’s wings, sparking over the reddened tips of his feathers like fire. His brutal magic sizzled up my spine, bringing with it images of death—a bleak forest of soldiers impaled on spikes, their bodies casting long shadows over desert sands. The vision dissipated from my mind as quickly as it had arrived.

  His footsteps crunched over a winding path, and he led me deeper into the garden. Patterns in the mosaic path stretched out far ahead of us—images of swords and crowns, Greek letters and wild animals.

  I’d suggested I wanted to see his place of power. So why had he taken me to a rose garden—and what did he mean that he used it to control his servants?

  Only after a few minutes did I notice the dark gleam of barbed iron in the garden. I swallowed hard. Only one reason for barbed iron, as far as I knew.

  In the depths of the garden, Aereus led me to a spiked, iron wheel, its surface stained rust-red. Not rust. My stomach dropped.

  Aereus stood before it, a merciless smile on his face. “I was born in the Roman Empire. I once watched a man broken on the wheel. A vision I never forgot. The power a man can exert over another is thrilling.”

  The blood draining from my head almost left me dizzy. “You must have been a soldier.”

  “I helped to defeat Hannibal. I razed Carthage.”

  Desert air skimmed through my hair, and I twirled a lock of it around my fingertips. “I can only imagine how the armies of Carthage would have trembled before you.” I blocked out the fury roiling in my chest. “And do you use this wheel for anything now?”

  “It’s how I keep my human servants in line. They don’t wear chains, but they know not to rise up against me. They wouldn’t dare. Sometimes, I kill their loved ones instead of them.”

  I plastered a serene smile onto my face. “How thrilling. You must be like a god to them.”

  His eyes flashed with a fiery light. “I am a god to them. I’m a god to your kind, too.”

  Bile rose in my throat. Never before had I felt it so strongly, the sense that these angels had to get away from us. I’d do anything to rip them from the surface of the earth.

  As my thoughts raged, a silky-smooth presence caressed the depths of my mind. Was it Adonis?

  I’m fine, I mentally telegraphed to him. Just disturbed. Deeply fucking disturbed.

  As we walked the garden’s winding path, we turned a corner, and my stomach dropped. Across from a row of wild roses, a line of guards stood. Their spears glinted in the sunlight. Instead of human forms, they had the bodies of enormous scorpions, with sharply pointed tails that curved over their heads. They stared at me through inky pools.

  Masking my fear, I pointed to them. “What are they for?”

  “Ah. They guard the poison garden. I grow a collection of dangerous plants here—extremely toxic. The guards simply ensure that no one dies accidentally.”

  “I see. How kind of you to look after your servants.”

  As if he gave a flying fuck. If I had to guess, Aereus couldn’t stop the Old Gods from growing Devil’s Bane in his garden. He didn’t want any humans getting their hands on it, trying to destroy him. In fact, I could just about feel the warm glow of the Old Gods around me.

  We moved farther along the path, and I ran my fingertips over the rose petals. The closer I looked, the more I found signs of death within this garden—iron devices with jagged rows of teeth jutting from the earth, designed to tear at flesh, to crush bodies. Among the flowers, bones—human, demon maybe—protruded from the soil.

  Now, when I studied the mosaic on the ground, I realized the patterns were formed from teeth—human and animal, some painted black to create the designs.

  I tried to choke down my disgust, but a wave of rage unfurled in me. I closed my eyes, pretending to breathe in the scent of his garden. Inwardly, I was envisioning myself strapping Aereus to the iron wheel and smashing his limbs with one of those spiked iron mallets. I’d crush his bones. I’d thrill at his screams. I’d rid the earth of this angelic scourge…

  Easy, Ruby.

  Once again, Adonis’s presence stroked the depths of my mind like a lover’s caress.

  I’m fine, I screamed at him, unable to keep the wrath from my mental communications. You angelic fuck.

  Taking a deep breath, I refocused on the garden around me. I was supposed to be charming the angel, not envisioning his gruesome demise.

  I just…honestly had no idea how to relate to a two-thousand-year-old, omnipotent sadist.

  “Those were the good days, weren’t they?” I ventured. “The Roman Empire’s glorious expanse over Europe, Asia, Africa…”

  “My legions brought the Roman eagles over the farthest corners of the earth.”

  Aereus pivoted over the bony mosaic path, leading me farther into the garden, where someone had created s
culptures from human bones, each one pierced with iron spikes. Roses climbed some of the sculptures. A strange, perverse sort of beauty in this garden of death.

  Who had these bones belonged to? Servants who’d displeased Aereus? I could pull the knife from my boot now, ram it into his neck…

  Charm him, Ruby.

  What was it Adonis had said? His depressing angelic aphorism? Something about seeds…

  I moved closer to Aereus, then flashed him my most charming smile. “This reminds me of a saying. The seeds of destruction grow within the gardens of paradise.”

  Aereus stopped walking, then turned to look at me. The wind toyed with his red cape, his hair. “So you know that expression? It’s an angelic concept that I take very seriously.” He gestured around him, pride beaming from his features. “That saying inspired all this. Glorious, isn’t it?”

  “It’s good that you angels have come to earth to teach us. When you’re done purifying the earth, we can begin again, creating a true paradise from the glorious destruction you’ve wrought.”

  “I was born for this. Born for war. Born to rule as an archangel on earth, just as the Heavenly Host rule as archangels in the celestial realm.”

  At the mention of them, a shudder danced up my spine, and I glanced at the cloudless skies. Had that injured angel made it back to them, or had he bled out before he had the chance?

  Would the terrifying archangels be coming for me soon?

  Whatever the case, I didn’t have much time to screw around admiring Aereus’s plants. I needed those stones as soon as I could get my hands on them—even if I didn’t quite know what they did, or how to use them, or any of those somewhat important details.

  I plucked a red rose, then began pulling the petals off one by one, hoping to enchant him. “So this is your beautiful paradise. Will you show me from where else you rule your kingdom? The real destruction? I want to know where you keep your most powerful, dangerous treasures. I want to touch them.”

  Chapter 26

  I followed after him, heels clacking on the marble floor. In the large hall, sunlight streamed through the windows onto walls painted the color of dried blood.

  As we reached the imposing oak doors, they creaked open of their own accord. I walked behind Aereus in the hallway, and his essence crackled over my skin. A hot current of rage roiled under the surface of my mind. How could the humans let themselves cower in here as slaves? Why didn’t they work together, rise up against their oppressors? If they worked together, they could find the Devil’s Bane, poison him again and again.

  They scurried and shuffled in the shadows, hoping to remain unnoticed. A woman, her filthy hair hanging in tangles over her shoulders, hurried past us, her eyes downcast. She carried a bundle of rags in a basket.

  Simpletons. Every human we passed was potential prey. How easy it would be to sink my feral teeth into their necks. How easy to punch my fists through their chests, snapping their ribs, to rub their blood over my bare skin...

  A gentle, soothing presence licked at the hollows of my mind—Adonis? Apparently he could feel my rage.

  I mentally cursed myself. It had been Aereus’s magic clouding my mind. I didn’t hate these humans. I hated him. But the horseman of war provoked a will to dominate the weak.

  The iron collars around their necks probably served to dampen some of their rage. But as humans, they wouldn’t be as vulnerable to fury as a feral fae.

  Aereus shot me a sharp look as we walked. “Ruby. Is that a violent side I can sense?”

  Put on a good show, Ruby. Always put on a good show.

  I flashed him a sweet smile. “I think your powerful presence might affect me a little.”

  He smirked. “Does the Dark Lord affect you?”

  “Not the same way you do. You’re a god of war, the beginning and the end. War has shaped all of history, hasn’t it? The reason why angels fell to earth in the first place, the explanation for nearly every advancement in human history. War. Nothing is more powerful.”

  Aereus’s approval was a low rumble that trembled through my gut. When he spoke again, his voice echoed off the high ceiling, off the marble columns surrounding us. “Tell me why you think Kratos might fall.” In the bright light of the hall, blood-red streaks shone in Aereus’s eyes. “He’s lived for nine hundred years without falling. Why now?”

  I shrugged. “I think he’s developed a taste for succubi.”

  “I can understand his temptation. And Johnny—he really attacked the Dark Lord?”

  “I saw it happen. He looked crazed, like he’d lost the ability to speak. He’d been on a drunken bender, maybe poisoned himself with something. Mud and grass covered his body. There was something distinctly wrong with him.”

  “It’s good that you came here to tell me. Only I can help you.”

  Flatter his ego. “I don’t think Adonis wanted to admit it, but he was worried he couldn’t handle them on his own.”

  “Fool.” Aereus snorted. “He’d never admit something like that.”

  At the end of a glass-ceilinged hall, Aereus led me to an iron door. I balked at the sight of it. Touching the iron would drain my energy completely.

  Aereus stroked his enormous fingertips over the iron surface, and his body glowed with a golden light. He whispered in the Angelic language.

  Angelic was the language of magic—passed down from one generation to the next. In fact, it was the ancient language of fae and demons alike. I’d studied it, like I was supposed to, but I wasn’t fluent.

  Adonis would be, though.

  Mentally, I repeated each syllable as loudly as I could so Adonis would hear it.

  When Aereus finished the spell, the iron door groaned open, revealing a dim, windowless room. Torches burned in some of the alcoves, and a long table stretched across the center of the stone floor. Weapons hung from brackets in the walls.

  Across the table, stacks of papers lay scattered, and my gaze wandered over them. The writing looked like Angelic, which meant I had no idea what it said.

  The moment I stepped inside, the door slid shut behind us, scraping over the floor. At this point, I was pretty relieved about the mark Adonis had left on my shoulder, because I’d never be able to get out of here on my own if I needed to. Even if I went feral and pulled the knife from under my dress, the iron door would stop me.

  The single mercy of the closed iron door was that the murderous rage clouding my mind seemed to have dissipated a little. Apparently, Aereus’s magic mostly affected how I felt about weaker creatures, people I could dominate.

  Aereus stood at the head of the table, staring at me. The torchlight wavered over his breastplate and his red-tipped wings.

  I traced my fingertips over the wooden table in the center of the room. “This is thrilling.”

  Violent energy pulsed from his body, and he took a step closer to me, his armor gleaming in the warm light. “Your little succubus body reacts to me, doesn’t it? You feel my power.”

  I feel like I want to tear your eyes out, if that’s what you mean. “Yes, I can feel it.”

  “That’s because you’re at war within yourself.”

  He lumbered closer, then ran a meaty finger down the front of my chest. Inwardly, I shuddered, but I tried to hide my disgust.

  “I sense your turmoil, Ruby. Deep in your chest.”

  I stared at him, trying to control my own aggression. What the fuck was he talking about?

  Aereus closed his eyes, breathing in the air. Then, he gripped my shoulders. “You want something, but you deny yourself. Guilt eats at you, doesn’t it? You left someone behind. What was his name?”

  Stop intruding in my mind. I didn’t want this monster talking about Marcus, or thinking about Marcus. He had no right to invade my memories.

  He gripped my shoulders tighter. “You’re scared of someone. Scared of a monster that you can’t get rid of.”

  Now I had no idea what he was talking about, and I slipped away from his grasp. I schooled my features i
nto a perfect mask of calm. “We’re not here to talk about me,” I said serenely. “I’m not interesting, Aereus. I want to know about you.”

  That seemed to do the trick, and he arched a golden eyebrow at me. “Of course you do.”

  I sat coyly on the edge of the table. “What happens in here?”

  “Since the Great Nightmare has begun, I’ve started wars on three continents. I’ve inspired bloodlust across the globe. I’ve recreated the conquests of Alexander the Great, riding into Persia and India. For the past year, I’ve planned my bloodshed from here.”

  He crossed to an alcove, where a chalice glowed with golden light, and he plucked it from its resting spot. “Do you know what this is?”

  “Some sort of magical chalice?”

  “Azazeyl, the fallen angel, drank from this the night before the angels expelled him from the heavens. The night before he fractured into seven gods. No angel was ever more powerful, more beautiful—no one ever more tormented.” A dark satisfaction dripped off his words.

  “Amazing,” I breathed, eyes wide. “What other ancient treasures do you keep in this room?”

  Aereus crossed to the wall of weapons, lovingly stroking a long spear. I tried not to think of the phallic implications as he caressed it.

  “The sarisa belonging to Alexander the Great, the weapon of his Diadochi army. Conquest has imbued this weapon with power.”

  This was all fascinating, and at one point I’d have been thrilled to find myself standing before Alexander the Great’s spear. Now, I could think about only one thing—how to rid the earth of the angelic scourge.

  Ignoring the fury that surged in my blood, I sauntered over to him. “Alexander the Great was amazing, I’m sure. But no one could rival an angel for skill in war.”

  His body glowed with fiery light, and I fought the urge to turn and run from him, or to grab Alexander’s spear right off the wall and ram it through his body. “I was born to create war.”