by SM Reine
“I’m trying to stop that,” Elise said.
Dana had a good grasp of what Elise, Anthony, and McIntyre had always done together. She’d also spent her entire life getting the “what happens once your dad dies” talk—same talk that Elise’s kopis father had given her in lieu of bedtime stories.
It was sad to see a mind drenched in such grief without a single tear on her cheek. The kid had already moved past crying.
“Mom,” Dana said. And then, “Deb.”
Elise swallowed hard. “Yeah.”
She didn’t know what else to say to help Dana. Elise hadn’t gotten a sibling until she was an adult, and she wasn’t sure that she would have ever been heartbroken over Ariane’s death. She was incapable of sympathizing.
But she thought of holding James back in that room. The way that her touch had slowed the racing of his heart, soothed the stress in his mind.
There were some things gestures could communicate that words never could.
She wrapped her arm around Dana’s shoulders. Elise had never tolerated the girls’ attempts to cuddle with her, but even though they had never really hugged before, Dana wasn’t all that much bigger than Marion. It didn’t feel all that strange to embrace her.
The strangest part was that holding her made Elise feel fractionally better, too.
Dana didn’t move until Nash approached them.
“I’m told the ritual is ready,” he said.
Elise released Dana. “Go inside,” she told the girl. “It’s warmer.” Not safer, but warmer. Nowhere was safe anymore.
Dana got to her feet, gathering the furs around her, and marched obediently through the snow.
Elise waited to speak again until she was gone. “You know what we need to do next.”
“Is Ariane ready?” Nash asked.
“Probably. She’s had enough time to do the two in Hell, and she should be about done with the third.”
Abram stepped up beside Nash and Elise, swathed in so many scarves that only his silver eyes were visible. “I’m ready,” he said, voice muffled.
“Good,” Elise said. “You know how to get there?”
“Get where?” That came from Abel. He stood just outside the resort, panting and steaming. The spirit wolves were just barely visible around him as shadows. They must have been running for a long time for Abel to seem so exhausted.
Elise didn’t respond. Nobody did.
“You’re getting ready to bleed him, aren’t you?” Abel asked. “So Belphegor’s going to try to kill him again.”
He knew.
Elise had expected a much more dramatic reaction when he learned that Seth was Abram’s father, but Abel only looked tired and frustrated.
“Levi will protect me,” Abram said. That was the plan, anyway: Levi and Nash would escort Abram to the circle and remain with him until the gates to Eden were opened. They didn’t have any better ideas.
Abel bristled. “Like hell he is. I’ll protect you.”
“I don’t care who does it, so long as it’s done,” Elise said, glancing up at the torn sky. She could smell brimstone again. “We have to do it now.”
Fifteen
Brianna began the ritual. Elise felt the Fate approach immediately.
Right on time.
Elise stood outside the circle with her twin falchions drawn. Even though she couldn’t see the demon coming through the overwhelming darkness of the cloudy sky, she felt it deep within using her kopis senses.
The Fate, infected with her blood, felt very much like a piece of herself. And a piece of Belphegor.
Which Fate would it be? Clotho was dead. McIntyre had made sure of that in the most devastating way possible. Atropos had barely survived their fight in the Palace, but she had survived, and there was no telling how quickly she would heal.
She would wager that this one would be Lachesis. The one that had escaped after slaughtering Neuma and Gerard.
Elise twirled the falchions in both hands to give her body something to do. Belphegor knew that Elise had creatures that could kill his Fates. He wasn’t going to risk losing his forces in a fight against her. That meant that Belphegor would send more than a Fate to deliver his final blow.
Whatever was coming, it would be bad.
“Come on, you fucker,” she muttered. “I’m ready for you.”
“What’s that?” Anthony called from behind her. He was safe within the boundaries of the circle—“safe” being a relative term.
“We’re about to have company,” Elise said.
Her words were punctuated by the sound of flapping wings and heavy bodies thudding into the mountain around her.
She looked up to see hybrids landing on the lip of the crevasse. Five of them.
“I thought you swallowed all of those,” Anthony said. “Swallowing” was the unflattering term that Anthony and McIntyre had given Elise’s ability to consume her enemies in shadow.
“I thought so, too,” Elise muttered.
Even if she’d missed a few, it would take no time to swallow these, too. Belphegor had to know that.
Which was why he’d sent in someone special to occupy Elise’s time.
Lachesis descended at the mouth of the crevasse as Brianna’s magic surged, billowing like smoke without a fire. There was only a hint of female body within her shadowy form: a flash of bare breasts, slender limbs, an attractive oval face that was smooth below her eyes. She didn’t have a nose or mouth.
Her arm was no longer bloody from ripping Neuma’s heart out. She had found time to clean herself off.
Elise hated her for that.
She phased.
The hybrids dropped into the crevasse, just outside the boundaries of Brianna’s circle. Elise didn’t have time to mess around with them. She expanded her form to its maximum, wrapping around them in moments.
Lachesis was ready for it. She phased too, crowding Elise out before she could swallow the hybrids.
What’s your hurry? Lachesis asked in a voice that was not a voice, speaking without a mouth.
Elise shoved back, but the Fate was strong. Lachesis pushed her away.
When Elise swallowed, she only managed to get one furred leg from a hybrid, cloven hoof and all, before Lachesis managed to force her to the mouth of the crevasse. The appendage settled within her incorporeal body with a sour twist. The hybrids had never tasted very good.
Lachesis shoved harder, and Elise was shocked to feel herself getting propelled away from the circle.
Through the darkness, she could see Brianna and Anthony wrapped within the warm light of the circle. The hybrids—including the new amputee—crowded against that light, crackling with power that was both infernal and ethereal, yet somehow neither. They pressed against Brianna’s wards, trying to break in.
Given enough time, they would probably succeed.
“We could use a little help!” Anthony shouted, holding his gun like he didn’t know whom he should aim it at. He stood above Brianna as she continued to cast, chanting under her breath.
His cry hadn’t been directed toward Elise.
Werewolf howls broke through the eternal night. An instant later, they were followed by the beating of wings.
Nash landed just outside the crevasse, jacket billowing around his knees.
“Sorry for the delay,” he said to nobody in particular, as though he knew Elise was watching.
He snapped his wings wide and they lit with angelfire.
It blasted into Elise just as much as Lachesis, driving all of the shadows away, leaving nothing but light in all the cracks of the mountain. His glow sparkled off of the ice.
Elise snapped back into her physical body, slamming into the ground a few feet down the mountain.
Lachesis landed beside her. The Fate didn’t have any real physical body to return to, so she formed a writhing puddle, thrashing within the glow of Nash’s glory. Her silent scream made Elise’s skull ache.
Two of the hybrids broke away from attacking the circle an
d rushed at Nash.
He leaped back before they could reach him, beating his wings hard to lift himself into the air. The flickering glow made more shadows. Enough that Elise could pull herself together and stand.
It hurt to be subjected to Nash’s glow, but not as much as it had before James had healed her. Elise didn’t have to fight to keep her skin on. She’d remained clothed. The swords were in her fists. It was a major improvement.
She swung at Lachesis before the Fate could fully reform. Her steel blade did nothing, but the obsidian sword connected with the body that wasn’t really there.
That can’t kill me, Lachesis said.
“I know,” Elise said, bringing the sword back around and lunging.
She lunged right through the barely-corporeal demon—and plunged her blade into the back of the nearest hybrid.
Elise felt his heart beating on the point of her sword. He arched away from the circle, ripping himself free as he turned. Piercing his heart wouldn’t be enough. It healed too quickly as long as his wings were still attached, in much the same way that angels healed.
But he turned away from the circle to give Elise his attention, and that was one less hybrid beating against Brianna’s wards.
The howling of werewolves came closer. Furred bodies began leaping into the crevasse—not the spirit beasts, but the real thing, each of them the size of small horses with fangs that glistened in the light from Brianna’s spell.
They leaped on the hybrids.
Elise would have loved to watch the fight. She’d always admired Rylie’s ability to chew through those bastards—the gore was a beautiful sight. But Lachesis had phased to shadow and wrapped around her, blinding Elise to her surroundings, contracting on her body like a dark fist.
Lachesis was pushing her again, dragging her away from the circle.
“No,” Elise said.
She flashed out of the Fate’s grip, landing on the upper lip of the crevasse. Away from the battle. She looked down on the circle of magic encompassing Lilith’s statue and her heart sank when she saw how much the hybrids had weakened the wards by beating against them. Brianna’s magic was dimming.
But the witch gave a shout of triumph.
“Yeah, suck on that, you ugly dicks!” she cried, pumping her fists in the air.
Brianna had finished the ritual.
Lilith was shifting where she stood, as though the statue had come alive. She lifted her hands above her head, tipping her face back, tail uncoiling from around her body.
The gateway to Eden appeared like a spear of light touching the tip of Lilith’s serpentine tail. Lightning arced through space and spread wide.
Wait, Lachesis said.
She had just noticed what was missing.
Abram wasn’t present to spill his blood on the altar, yet Lilith’s lock was opening.
The Fate slammed into the wards at the edge of the circle. Now that the ritual was complete, the magic was fraying faster, and it shuddered under assault.
Elise leaped off of the ridge with both swords lifted. She landed on Lachesis feet-first and jammed both blades into her shadowy body, driving her down to the ground.
They landed together—inside the circle.
The wards were broken.
“Run,” Elise snapped at Anthony.
“You don’t have to tell me.” He yanked Brianna off of her feet as easily as though she were a child and hauled her toward the mouth of the crevasse.
The hybrids were too busy fighting the pack to try to stop Anthony. Already three of Belphegor’s unholy creations were dead, leaving just two more surviving. They gushed blood under the teeth and claws of the werewolves.
Not bad for a tiny army without an Alpha to guide them.
The gateway to Eden was still spreading open, crackling wildly. Its light burned as bright as Nash’s wings, but the texture of it was different, less ethereal. It felt like actual sunlight.
Where is he? Lachesis raged. Where is the descendant of Adam?
The gate blew wide open below Elise without a drop of blood spilled on the altar. She felt the wind whipping around her, smelled the sweet apples of the forest, sensed the pull of Nathaniel on the other side. It was a bright, clear day in Eden, and it made Elise’s skin itch.
Elise arched her eyebrows in feigned surprise. “What, did Belphegor expect to find him here?”
Where? Lachesis hissed.
“Somewhere you’ll never find him,” Elise said.
“There,” Ariane said. “It’s done.”
Abram stepped back from the altar in Zebul, the Heavenly dimension of temples, and shook out his wounded hand. “Great. Just great.”
The gateway to Eden rumbled as the statue changed, and Abel knew that all the other gates would be opening with it. Ariane was good at what she did. Eden was about to open wide.
This particular statue looked like Adam, the first man from whom Seth and Abram were descended. Abel had spent about an hour staring at it, bored out of his mind, as Ariane finished the ritual. He didn’t see a resemblance between that thing and anyone in Abel’s family.
Of course, Abram’s blood had done the job. So apparently the resemblance ran a lot deeper than the skin.
Adam’s hands were outspread, his chin lifted as though looking over a world that he had conquered. The stone groaned softly as his hands turned to face the ground.
Abel didn’t watch as the light of the portal flared under his palms. He kept watching Zebul. It probably had been pretty once, with the temples on top of spindly mountains and all the forests and shit. Now the waterfalls were all magma. Everything smelled like ass—well, brimstone—and the air was clogged with smoke.
He sniffed the smoky air. No demons yet—but it wouldn’t be long before Belphegor figured out he’d been fooled and came looking for them.
“What do we do now that it’s open?” Abram asked.
“Elise suggested we stay here,” Ariane said, shuffling around behind Abel, presumably to clean up her ritual. “I know a route through the sinkholes back to the mountaintop, but she didn’t believe it would be safe.”
That was where all of Belphegor’s anger would be smashing down. Right where they had left Summer behind with only Nash to keep an eye on her.
Abram seemed to be thinking the same thing. “We should go help them.”
“Like hell we should,” Levi said. “We don’t owe anyone anything. Let’s get out of here. Let’s run. Let’s find some corner of the universe that isn’t on fire yet and let everyone else worry about the end.”
“You think that’s any solution? Hiding?” Abram growled.
“I’m not suicidal.”
Abel snorted. “Asshole,” he muttered.
“What was that?” Levi said. “You got a problem with me?”
He finally turned to look at the circle and the statue of Adam again. The door to Eden was still open, revealing a much quieter world on the other side—one filled with swaying trees, sparkling leaves, and blue skies. There wasn’t a hint of smoke.
Levi stood in front of it, glaring at Abel.
He wanted a fight? Abel could give him a fight.
“Yeah, I’ve got a problem,” Abel said. “Why don’t you run off with your tail between your legs so I don’t have to keep looking at my problem?”
Levi’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not going anywhere without Abram.”
“Why’s that?”
“Are you stupid?” Levi asked. “Have you still not figured out that I’m fucking Rylie’s kid?”
Abel crossed the circle in two strides and punched Levi in the face.
It wasn’t the first time he’d done it, and he sure as hell hoped it wouldn’t be the last time. The day he stopped punching that asshole in the face was the day that one or both of them were dead, and probably the world gone with them.
He struck hard enough to send him sprawling over the floor of the temple, sliding until he bumped into the wall.
“Hey!” Abram said sharply.
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“What?” Abel asked.
The younger man punched him in the face. Abel was sure that it was a pretty powerful punch, as far as humans could deliver, but Abel was a werewolf. It barely made him stagger.
“Boys! Behave yourselves!” Ariane snapped.
“Some gratitude,” Abel growled at Abram, ignoring the witch as she tried to get between them.
“Gratitude? For what?” Abram scoffed. “Being a violent ape?”
“For protecting you from that cockface.” He thrust a finger toward Levi. He still hadn’t really wrapped his head around the claim that Levi and Abram were involved—some part of him didn’t want to deal with it, and just didn’t accept it.
If it was true—if Levi wasn’t just making up horrible crap to piss Abel off—then it was even worse.
“I don’t need your protection. I’m not even your son,” Abram said.
Abel already knew that, but hearing the words made the shock flood over him anew, like he was hearing it the first time all over again. Abram was the product of Rylie and Seth. The dream couple. Practically the football player and cheerleader grown up and making babies together.
One more reminder that life wasn’t what Abel had thought it was, and definitely not what anyone had wanted it to be.
But Abel gripped him by the shoulder, forcing him to meet his gaze. “Look. Rylie and Seth are dead. Both of them—gone. You don’t have any parents. I don’t have my brother or my mate. But we’re still family, you and me, and I don’t give a shit about what twist of fate or magic or werewolf biology made it so that you didn’t come from me. You’re as good as my son. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” He glared at Levi on the ground. “I’m sure as hell not letting that asshole mess with you.”
“He’s not messing with me.” Abram hesitated then said, “I love him.” He managed to make that almost sound like an insult.
Abel’s anger defused, but only a fraction.
So it was true. Abram and Levi.
At another time, Abel would have stewed over it. Gotten angry. Probably punched Levi a few more times, and then dwelled over how sickening it was before hitting him again.