As if he needed to remind her. He always was an arrogant bastard. “And I’m sure you’ll try to collect.” Agitation at his holier than thou attitude rolled through her. “However, I don’t recall asking for help the first time.”
He smirked. “As if I could watch you die like that, Armaros.”
Didn’t they want her dead? She turned her head to face him. “What are you doing here?” She hadn’t seen any smoke rising from his feet when she glanced at the floor.
He chuckled. “The ground here does not offend me, Armaros,” he said in a delightful tone unbefitting the Master of the Darkness. Which he definitely was. Lucifer was the Prince of Hell. Really, he was King, but no one ever called him that. She wondered if it had anything to do with her Father. Maybe even Lucifer wouldn’t disrespect her Father’s Throne on that level. Which sounded absurd, considering.
To say he was complicated didn’t begin to scratch his surface.
Armen bit the side of her lower lip as she stared into Samyaza’s eyes, something a human should never do. “You didn’t answer the question.” His powers apparently didn’t affect her, as she was able to maintain her mind.
“You are destroying my Highest.” His grin smoothed into a fine line.
“They’re killing people.” She pointed to the crucified Bishop, never removing her eyes from the Fallen holding her hostage.
“It is their duty,” Samyaza replied. “Those souls already belonged to Lucifer.”
“I doubt the Bishop belonged to him.”
He frowned as he stared at the man hanging on the large wooden cross. “Correct. He did not belong to him. But since you killed Ash, we do not have to punish her for it.”
“They keep coming after me, too.”
“You keep interfering,” he replied, the grin reappearing, a slight twitch at the corner of his eye.
“Not on purpose.”
He raised a brow as he peered down into her eyes. “Is that so?”
“Look, when they invade my dreams, it’s an entirely different ballgame.”
“I did not tell Banshi to do so. I will not hold that one against you. Sariel on the other hand—”
“Sariel killed his innocent mother”—she pointed to Terry—“and tortured his father.”
Samyaza raised his head. “Ah, the demon wrangler. There was a purpose to that one. But as I said, I shall not hold Banshi against you.”
Armen gave a short nod. She knew better than to say ‘thank you’ to him, or to question the killings further. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t change the subject a little because the son of a bitch was lying. “Tell me the truth; what’s really happening?”
A chuckle rose from his chest and shook her in his arm. He moved his lips next to her ear. “Why don’t you ask Him?”
“You know I can’t talk to Him, not since the Fall,” she whispered.
“And this, dear Armaros, is what makes you so entertaining,” he replied, his lips gently brushing against her flesh.
She pulled back and met his eyes. “Is that what I am to you, mere entertainment?”
Samyaza smiled widely. “Not entirely. Sariel had other plans.”
She grinned smugly. “Not anymore.”
“True.” He dipped his head down again, closer to her face. “Do you intend to destroy me as well?”
Armen shook her head. “I honestly don’t think I have that kind of power.”
He chuckled again. “You are a terrible liar, Armaros.”
“Do you want to be destroyed?” She turned the scepter in her hand.
“Where’s the fun in that?”
She shifted her gaze to Terry, who was now kneeling and staring at them.
Samyaza took notice. “Tell me something, do you love him?”
Armen nodded.
“Then say it.”
“I love him.” Her eyes met Terry’s.
“Why do you love him?” He focused on Terry, his eyes studying him intently.
“He’s intelligent, strong, and he makes me laugh,” Armen replied. “And he cares about me.”
Samyaza’s smile broadened. “Do you know why Lucifer had Eve eat from the Tree of Knowledge?”
“To piss off our Father.”
A short burst of laughter came from him and he shook his head. “Not exactly.”
“Then why?”
“To give humans a chance to grow, evolve, to become enlightened. Father would have been content with their ignorance. Our Prince thought it not fair to them, never to know of their potential. Would you not agree?”
“I am not stepping into that argument,” she quickly replied.
“Do you think your Terry would be the person he is today had Lucifer not enlightened humans?” His vibrant eyes met hers again. “Or would he just be another mindless drone?”
“Don’t try to justify what he did,” she said. “Father was pissed when he wouldn’t bow before Adam.”
“Then he should not have made us what we are,” he replied. “Lucifer is the Angel of Light, of music and beauty. You are the Angel of Enchantments, of magic and sorcery. I am the Angel of Knowledge, of learning and creativity; all of us with free will.”
“We were that,” she reminded him. “Now we’re all just Angels of the Darkness. Even angels fade over time, Sam. We are no exception.”
“You know I hate that name.” He tightened his grip on her shoulder and leaned closer. “I could kill them all right now,” he whispered, eyeing Terry, Sean, and Dante.
“And you will surely face a war if you do,” Armen firmly replied.
“As if one millennia-long war is not enough? It is already falling to the human realm.”
“So I’ve noticed.”
He grinned. “You cannot lead a war against me if you are flesh.”
“That could easily change.”
“You would be a worthy opponent, Armaros,” he said with admiration. “I would welcome it, but for now, we shall let it be.”
She gave a nod. “Of course.”
He removed his arm from her shoulders and let it drop to his side. She took a step forward, heading toward Terry. Six steps into her walk, Sean launched his shillelagh at Samyaza. Armen caught it with the yell of a warrior, leaping to the side to snatch it mid-air.
The shillelagh’s tip hovered at the edge of Samyaza’s chest, barely brushing the fine silk shirt he wore. His fiery blue eyes shot up to meet Armen’s, and she grinned.
“That equals twice, I think,” she said with a smirk.
“The debt has been repaid.” He winked at her and vanished in a cloud of black smoke.
Armen quickly turned to Sean. “Bad move, Sean, but thank you.”
His bewildered eyes stared at her. “Och! That was Satan. Why’d ye save him?”
“That was Samyaza. He and the one you call Satan are two separate beings. I would think you’d know that.” She handed him the shillelagh and knelt down to Terry. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I think so,” he replied, rubbing his chest. “That hurt like a bitch, though.”
“I’m sure it did,” she said, helping him to his feet. “It’s not every day you get tortured by that one and live. He’s not kind.”
“Sounds like you speak from prior experience,” Terry grunted.
“Nah, he’s got a soft spot for me.”
“How so?”
“I’m like his little sister.”
“Aren’t you all brothers and sisters?”
“I’m his Grigori sister, the only female Watcher. Remember? Each group is bonded and bound to one another, like siblings, or lovers.”
He shook his head. “I don’t think I’m ready to hear more on that just yet.”
“Probably not.”
Dante made a call to get a clean-up crew down to the church. Sean inspected the dead priest to be certain he was dead and not likely to jump up at any time. After giving last rites, Terry stood in front of the Bishop for some time before turning away. Armen knew there was no way for her and th
e others to get him down from the cross.
She and Terry stepped outside as dawn approached. It was early Saturday morning, which meant they still had another nineteen hours before Constantine’s venerable day of the sun, or the Sabbath. Armen looked Terry over for open wounds as policemen and crew walked briskly past them, heading into the church. Not long after, one or two ran back outside, retching the remnants of their latest meal. She sat Terry in the garden near a small fountain and ripped off the lower half of her t-shirt not covered in blood from underneath her hoodie and dipped it in the water.
“You really do love me.” His words were heavy with the understanding of what it meant to voice her feelings to her brother.
Her eyes met his and she nodded, running the cloth over his right arm, eyes scanning for scratches and cuts. “I do.”
He stopped her hand from cleaning and touched her cheek with his other hand. “I love you.” He slipped his hand around to the back of her neck and pulled her forward. Their foreheads touched. “And I’d die if I lost you.”
She moved her head up and kissed his forehead. “I know how you feel.”
Dante cleared his throat. “Sorry to interrupt, but Captain’s heading this way. Thought you might want to disappear before he gets here.” He winked and smiled, then turned around to head back inside.
Armen turned back to Terry. “Should we?”
“What do you think?”
She shrugged. “How long do you think it’ll take?”
“Depends on his mood,” he replied. “Maybe an hour, maybe three.”
“It’s not Sunday yet, you know.”
“So?” He met her eyes and worry spread across his face. “Do you think it’s over?”
Armen shook her head. “It can’t be.”
“Samyaza shows up after you kill Ash, has a chat with you after saving your life, and then disappears after telling you the debt has been repaid, and you don’t think it’s over?”
“It’s too easy, too simple, too quick. Something isn’t adding up.”
“Who else could be coming?” He quickly turned his head. “Dad!”
Sean peered through the doors and found Terry. “What is it, my boy?”
“Could you please ask Him if anyone else is coming, to put Armen’s mind at ease?”
“Aye, o’ course,” Sean replied and closed his eyes. A split second later, they opened. “He wishes fer Armen to ask Him.”
“I can’t!”
“Ye mean you will nae do it,” Sean suggested with a cocked brow.
“No, I mean I can’t,” she replied.
“He says then ye dinnae need to know.”
Armen growled and crossed her arms over her chest. “Smartass.”
“Dinnae call yer Father names,” Sean reprimanded.
“Dad, seriously, it’d be good to know.”
Sean looked at him and nodded. “He sees not a ting.”
“That doesn’t mean anything,” Armen mumbled. She looked at Terry, who was eyeing her with that look of his, the scrutinizing one. “What? I’m sorry, but I don’t trust Sam. He let that go way too easily. And just because dear old Dad doesn’t see it, it doesn’t mean nothing will happen. The Grigori were down here for years before He finally noticed what we were doing.”
“She has a valid point,” Dante suggested when he walked through the open doors past Sean. “I mean, you can’t trust a demon, right?”
Terry looked from Dante to Armen. “What are your thoughts?”
Armen sighed heavily. “Don’t you feel it in the pit of your stomach? I know you trust your instincts. What are they telling you?”
Terry stared into her eyes long and hard before answering. “It’s not over.”
“Thank you,” she said.
“Can we talk about the fact that Ash flat out stated that Armen has to be killed with that blade?” Dante interrupted, pointing at the scepter.
“Right,” Terry replied, turning to Armen. “What the hell is that about?”
“Like I know,” she answered, raising her hands up. “It’s news to me, too.”
Terry gave a short nod, indicating they’d figure it out later, which she had no doubt would be right before the blade plunged through her chest. “So who’s left then?”
“Take your pick.”
“You know them. Narrow it down.”
“You have no idea the chore I’m undertaking with that.” She thought about it, nibbling on her fingernail, considering those that had already come forth and her past with them. Only one came to mind through all of the others; one who held a grudge against her; one who, above all else, had been partly responsible for her becoming flesh. Her eyes met Sean’s, and she knew from looking into those green eyes of his, that he knew exactly who was on her mind—the one who had hunted him.
After exchanging glances with both of them, Terry shook his head. “You can’t be serious.”
Armen nodded. “I’m afraid so.”
“Why’s he comin’ back?” Sean asked.
“To finish what he started, I suppose,” Armen replied, more than a little nervous about facing this one. “I’m afraid you’re in serious danger, Sean.”
“That so? He seemed so calm.”
Armen wasn’t certain if that was sarcasm or not, as she hadn’t quite learned Sean’s inflections yet.
Terry touched her arm to get her attention. “You’re talking about the one who hunted my dad and killed you, aren’t you?”
“Yes. Deception is his specialty, along with great storms and the ability to make you stand still when you want to run.”
“Thas why I summoned you. I could nae move.”
The corner of Armen’s mouth hitched upward. “Good thing his gift isn’t silence.”
Dante waved his hands back and forth. “All right, you guys want to let me in on the secret now? What’s he talking about, Leza?”
“Ah hell,” she muttered. “Terry, explain it to him.” She stood at the edge of the garden and stared out into the breaking day as the other two told Dante everything they knew about her, which in the grand scheme of things really wasn’t a whole lot, and she was just fine with that.
“Well, that explains a lot,” he finally said.
“Thanks,” Armen replied.
“I didn’t mean it that way.”
She waved a hand, acknowledging his comment.
“Don’t go blabbing it to everyone you know,” Terry firmly told him.
Dante cocked an eyebrow. “Like anyone would believe there’s an ex-angel, ex-demon working at the police station.” He paused briefly before the corner of his mouth lifted. “Well, except for the captain. He’d probably believe it. Man, he does not like you.”
“Yeah, I know,” Armen said, brushing the comment off.
“Well, I’m sure it wouldn’t be all that difficult for people to believe considering the news van we saw when Cerberus was chasing us,” Terry replied.
Dante’s thick eyebrows popped up. “Oh shit, really?”
Terry nodded.
“I’ll keep my mouth shut.”
“Good.” Terry walked over to Armen and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Any ideas as to where this one will show up?”
Armen slowly moved her head back and forth. “I think he’ll find us.”
“Great. Let’s hope it’s an unpopulated area.”
“I still need to get to my lab.”
“We’ll go as soon as the captain gets here and finishes with me.”
Armen turned her head. “Well, I suppose that’ll be soon.” She nodded to the front gate.
Terry touched her arm before turning and walking over to Brian. Their conversation was short, and soon he was back standing next to Armen. “Ready to go?”
“That was quick.” She raised a brow.
“I gave him the short version.”
“I’m certain he’s not happy with the ‘short version’.”
“Probably not, but he’ll have to deal with it until I get a chance to wri
te it out.”
“That’s a lot of writing you’ve got ahead of you.”
“It’ll be a damn book by the time I’m finished. Let’s get you to your lab, doc.” He gave her a once-over. “You’re covered in blood, by the way.”
Mostly dried by that point, the blood ran down her entire left side from her landing after kicking the priest and the front of her after crawling after the scepter. “I’ve got scrubs at the office.”
Armen walked into her office, duffle bag in hand, and Terry, Sean, and Dante following close behind. She set the bag on her desk and stepped over to the lab doors to peer through the small window. Art was wrist-deep in someone’s abdomen, beginning his shift with pleasantries as he whistled along to a 50s song playing on the radio.
“If you have a weak stomach, you might want to stay out here,” she said and pushed the doors open. Considering what they’d just seen and their chosen professions, she doubted any of them had a weak stomach, but it was something she often said to people entering her office. “Hey, Art.”
He looked up, surprise capturing his more than middle-aged face. “What the hell are you doing here?” His eyes took in her appearance. “And why are you covered in blood?”
“I haven’t finished my shift yet,” she replied and stepped up to the table.
“More demon chasing?” he queried, a hint of a smile reaching his lips. “Is that demon blood?”
“Funny. And no, demon blood is black, sometimes blue, depending on the breed.”
He chuckled. “I heard about some big damn dog or the like chasing a squad car through downtown.”
“Was it on the news?”
He shrugged. “Haven’t had a chance to watch, but it’s all over the radio.” He viewed the clock above the doors. “Might be on right now, though.”
Armen turned toward the doors, cupped her hands around her mouth, and yelled, “Terry, turn on the television.”
“Must you yell? You’ll wake the dead.” Art waited for a response, but received none. “You’ve lost your sense of humor, Armen. Must be serious.”
“Since when have you known me to have a sense of humor?” She folded her arms over her chest.
He nodded with a chuckle and withdrew his hand from the corpse. “That’s right, you call it sarcasm.” His eyes met with hers briefly before returning to the body. “Wanna know how this one popped up?”
Dusk of Death: an Armen Leza, Demon Hunter novel (Armageddon Trilogy Book 1) Page 23