by Larissa Ione
“Kill him.” Hawkyn released her and stepped back, his expression hard, cold, and despite her anger, she shivered. “You were going to kill him.”
“Damn straight I was!” She cursed, releasing the hold on her power. As it drained from her fingers, her fury drained with it. Well, some of it, anyway. “Look, you have to protect him. I get that. But I need to live.”
“What do you think I’ve been trying to make happen? That’s why I took you to the Gra.”
“You’re trying to keep me alive because you screwed up in the parking lot and you’re trying to save your own skin. Can you blame me for trying to save mine? I’m not a pizza for you to deliver.”
“Pizza?” He blinked. “What brought this on?”
“Does it matter? It’s true, isn’t it? If Drayger’s fate requires me to die, you’ll hand me over like a thin-crust pepperoni and you know it.”
“Ham.”
“What?”
“I like ham on my pizza. Not pepperoni.”
She huffed. “The pizza isn’t for you. That’s the point.”
“Your point is stupid,” he said, sounding a little tired. “Listen to me, Aurora.” He gripped her shoulders and dipped his head so his face was mere inches from hers, his gaze holding her in place even more so than his hands. “In the past, things might have been different. I’ve always done my job even if it didn’t make sense. Even if I felt that what I was doing was wrong. But I’m invested in your well-being now. I’m invested in you. I will find a way to keep you safe. You’re not a pizza. That’s why we’re here.”
She eyed the castle, wondering if anyone was covertly watching them from the battlements or the arrow slits. “Why didn’t you take me back to Sheoul-gra?”
He snarled. Actually snarled. “Because my father kicked us out.”
“Oh.” She certainly wasn’t going to touch that topic right now. Seemed to be a little sensitive. But then, she’d be prickly too if her father had kicked her out of their home. She couldn’t even imagine it, not when her parents were so loving and supportive. “So where, exactly, are we?”
He took her hand and started along the drawbridge that appeared to still be in working order. The moat beneath it teemed with... What the hell were those sharp-toothed, three-eyed things?
“We’re in Belgium.” His voice was still harsh with smoldering anger, but with every step they took, the tension eased in his body, his gait becoming looser, his shoulders pulling back. Her fingers itched to dig deep into those big muscles and massage the remaining stress away. “I lived here for a few hundred years, give or take a century.”
A splash below drew her attention, and she looked down just as one of the dolphin-sized things in the water snapped its jaws, its three eyes focused on her like she was dinner. “Don’t humans ask about the monsters in the moat?”
He laughed, a deep, lovely sound she appreciated even more after the earlier tension. “Those are horror-maws, sort of demon sharks that we use to keep enemies out when the drawbridge is up. And no, humans don’t ask about them because this castle is hidden by an invisibility enchantment. No one can see it from outside the veil except Memitim. The only reason you can see it is that we’re inside.”
Even as he spoke, she swore she could feel the magic on her skin. A guard wearing a combination of modern military BDUs and plate armor waved them through the gate and into a massive courtyard where a dozen or so men and women sparred with various weapons.
“Everyone here is Memitim,” he explained as they passed through a stone archway to the main building. “There used to be more of us here, but almost everyone has moved to Sheoul-gra. My brothers and sisters who remained are the few holdouts.”
“Why would they be holding out?”
He shrugged, making his black T-shirt ride up so she got a glimpse of tan skin just above his waistband. “A lot of reasons, I guess. Sheoul-gra can be a bit claustrophobic and creepy. Plus, Azagoth can be an asshole.” More anger billowed from him, but he seemed to put it back in some sort of container before he continued. “Some of my siblings have no desire to meet him. Ever. Can’t say as I blame them.”
Aurora couldn’t help but be sad for him – for all of his siblings, and once again she counted her blessings that she’d grown up in a stable, happy family.
They approached a door with a brass plate that said “Admin,” and he stopped. “I’ll just be a minute. Don’t run away again.” He paused. “How did you get to your house, anyway?”
“I don’t know. One moment I was standing on a landing pad thingie in a forest with a guy in hooded robes, and then I was home.”
He frowned and then nodded. “Jim Bob. He arrived in Sheoul-gra just before my heraldi alerted me about Drayger being in danger.” He shoved open the door. “I’ll be right out.”
He disappeared inside the office without explaining Jim Bob, so she wandered around the giant hall, marveling at the tapestries and portraits that depicted angels battling demons. All but one. The largest one, taking up nearly an entire wall, was of a stunning dark-haired man with piercing green eyes that seemed to look right through her. Shadows seemed to swirl around the picture, as if the man inside was swallowing the light both in the painting and in the room.
She heard footsteps behind her, knew instinctively it was Hawkyn. Or maybe she knew it was him because her heart fluttered every time he was close.
Oh, God, I’m attracted to an angel. An angel who is protecting the person who wants to slaughter me.
Really, that was pretty fucked up on more than one level.
“That’s my father,” he said, and she shivered. “Azagoth.”
“I expected him to be hideous. This throws me off a bit.” She glanced around at all the impossibly good-looking people walking around, including Hawkyn. “Does explain a lot, though. Your people are...beautiful.”
“I’m guessing yours are, too?”
She felt her cheeks catch on fire. “Are you basing that on the fact that sex demons were used in our breeding, and sex demons are always attractive?”
“No,” he said softly. “I’m basing that on you.”
She sucked in a ragged, startled breath, but she didn’t have time to respond, because a heartbeat later he was grabbing her bag and her hand and heading up a winding staircase.
“The housing administrator is giving you one of the two guest rooms on the top floor. They’re nothing special, only a little larger than the Memitim rooms, but the bed is a double instead of a single and you have a private bathroom.”
“Hawkyn!” A voice halted them in their tracks before they’d made it even halfway up the stairs.
“Fuck.” Hawkyn released her hand and they both turned around.
Down below, in the great hall, stood two angels, their wings—one set black and the other light gray—extended as if getting ready to launch into the air. Both were holding scythes, and neither looked happy to be there.
Aurora gripped the handrail so hard her palm hurt. “Who are they?”
“They’re Ascended brothers,” he said calmly, but his tone didn’t relieve the icy fear that filled her chest cavity. “And they’re here to punish me.”
* * * *
Hundreds of years ago, Hawkyn had waited, terrified and cornered, as men came to arrest him for stealing bread he’d needed to survive. He could still remember how hard his heart had pounded inside his thin body, how adrenaline had made his empty belly want to spill all over their shoes.
Shoes he didn’t have.
He’d begged for mercy, but there had been none.
Now there were two Punishers from the Memitim embassy waiting for him below, but he was a different male. He would not cower. And he would not beg.
But this was not going to be fun.
“Stay here,” he told Aurora as he dropped her bag on the steps. “No matter what happens, don’t move.” He took the steps down, keeping his eyes on the two males as he went. He’d never met these siblings, and even with the threat of violence ha
nging over his head, he still wondered which of the seventy-two angels Azagoth had bred with were their mothers. “Hello, boys. What brings you here?”
As if he couldn’t guess.
Someone had ratted him out. Some asshole had reported that he’d interfered in his Primori’s life, and he was going to get a thorough tongue lashing. Or maybe even a physical one.
“If you don’t know, you deserve worse than what’s going to happen to you.” The taller of the two, the one with dark hair who was the spitting image of Azagoth, stepped forward. “I’m Leonas.” He gestured to the ashen-haired male with the pale gray wings. “This is Moze.”
“Nice to meet you,” Hawkyn said, hoping they picked up every sarcastic note in his voice.
Moze snorted, but sobered at Leonas’ glare.
“We are all full brothers, sons of Azagoth and Ulnara,” Leonas said. “Which is probably why we were chosen to punish you for interfering with the actions of your Primori. Our superiors assumed you’d think we’d show mercy.” Leonas smiled, the same icy smile their father used just before he turned someone into a living work of tortured art. “We won’t.”
Shit. This was going to be way worse than a tongue lashing or some sort of sanction.
Hawkyn summoned a weapon and threw up a personal shield, but even as his scythe formed in his palm, he knew that defense was futile. Ascended angels were far more powerful than any earthbound Memitim, and sure enough, he only got two swings of the blade in before Moze had him pinned against the wall, his face eating stone.
Roaring in anger, he kicked out, catching Moze in the upper thigh with a blow that would have broken a lesser male’s leg. Moze shouted in pain, and then Hawk was the one in agony as Leonas smashed his fist into his back, right through his ribs. His fingers were like claws as they dug around until they found one of his shadow wings.
No!
Through his panting breaths and the spastic pounding of his pulse in his ears he heard Aurora’s screams for his brothers to stop, but they didn’t. Blood splashed to the floor as Leonas ripped the wing from its anchor and tossed it into the puddle at Hawk’s feet. Like the shadow it was, it dissipated, leaving no trace at all.
Emerico, he thought, trying to focus on something besides the searing, tearing misery of Leonas’ hand plunging inside him again to fish around for the remaining wing. Emerico was the one who had betrayed him. He wasn’t sure how he knew that, but it made sense, and honestly, Hawkyn didn’t blame him. Memitim were taught early in their training to put the rules and their duties ahead of everything else, including family and personal relationships.
For centuries Hawkyn had obeyed, being a good Memitim no matter what. He’d always wanted to do the right thing so he could join the Council and enforce the Memitim agenda.
Now he just wanted to burn the place down.
As Leonas tore Hawkyn’s wing away, a lightning storm of pain wracked him, robbing him of his breath, his eyesight, and, mercifully, his consciousness.
Chapter Fourteen
“Lilliana!” Maddox’s deep voice rang out from behind her as she sat on a quilt next to a pond that used to be black with bubbling tar. Now it was crystal clear and full of fish, and it was her favorite place to come with a romance novel and an iced tea once or twice a week. “Lilliana!”
She liked Maddox, even if he was a cocky jerk sometimes, and while he was excitable, he wasn’t one to panic, so the alarm in his voice raised the hair on the back of her neck. Putting down her book, she twisted around to see him and Rico jogging toward her. Rico hung back a little, which was wise. It had been three months since he’d called her “Azagoth’s whore,” and she was still a bit raw.
But then, his face, where she’d slapped him, probably was too.
“What is it?”
Maddox skidded to a halt. “It’s Azagoth. There was a Memitim Council member in his office with him. He just left and Azagoth is...not happy.”
“Dammit,” she breathed. “Okay, thanks. Where is he? Still in his office?”
“Library.”
Her gut twisted. He loved the library. It was his place of comfort and one of two places—including the bedroom—where they had agreed there would be no anger. So why would he go there if he was upset? Something was wrong. Very, very wrong.
“Thank you.” She came to her feet and flashed herself into the hallway outside the library.
Fully materialized, she coughed at the smoke filling the halls, streaming in tendrils from the scorched floors and walls. She didn’t need to follow the blackened trail of Azagoth’s fury to know it led from his office. He’d stormed from there to here, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to see what was on the other side of the door.
Just knock. If he doesn’t answer, hey, I tried.
She hated that she was willing to opt for avoidance rather than confrontation, but damn, his moods lately had been unlike anything she’d ever seen. Always before, she could ease him down off any ledge, but now it seemed like she only made things worse. She didn’t know what to do, or who to talk to. Cat was a wonderful listener, but the fallen angel didn’t have a lot of experience with relationships, and she and Hades had never even had a serious fight.
No, Lilliana was very alone in this.
Inhaling deeply, she rapped softly on the door.
No response.
Whew.
Feeling both guilty and relieved, she turned away, but froze when Azagoth’s voice rumbled through the thick door.
“What?”
“Nothing,” she called out. “I’ll come back later.”
He didn’t say anything. What the hell? She should walk away, happy to escape, but dammit, his silence stung. Annoyed, she opened the door and stepped inside.
“Azagoth?” He was hovered over the miniature viewing stone she’d given him to keep an eye on his adult Memitim children who didn’t live in Sheoul-gra. “Is everything okay? What’s going on?”
He made a sound, something she imagined an angry bull might make. “They aren’t going to give me my children.” His big body shuddered, and her heart broke for him.
“Oh, darling, I’m so sorry.” She reached for him, but he spun around to her, flames filling his eye sockets with so much heat she leaped backwards.
“This,” he rumbled, “is your fault.”
Stunned and confused by the accusation, she took another step back. “What are you talking about?”
“You made me soft.” He grabbed his chest, right over his heart, his fingers digging in so fiercely his knuckles were white. “You made me feel.”
She blinked. “Are you serious? The Memitim Council rejects your request and you’re mad at me?”
“I wouldn’t care about any of this if it weren’t for you,” he growled.
Her hurt veered sharply to annoyance at being blamed for such...stupidity. “Oh, well, gee,” she snapped. “I’m so sorry I made you into a better person.”
He swept his arm across his desk, knocking papers, pens, and books everywhere. He’d done that before, but he’d done it so they could have sex on the desk. Somehow she doubted they were going to be getting naked anytime soon.
“I’m not a better person!” His lips peeled back to reveal fangs he’d used on her to make her scream in pleasure but which now sliced down like weapons. “I’m distracted and angry. I can’t stop thinking about how my children grew up. I hate it. I hate what I’ve become.”
“I hate what you’ve become too,” she said, practically choking on her words. They both hated what he’d become, but for different reasons. “But we can fix it.”
He laughed, an ugly, cruel sound that made her cringe. “I’ve tried. Don’t you think I’ve tried? Want to know how many hours I’ve logged in the Inner Sanctum? Want to know how much malevolence I’ve exposed myself to, the things I’ve done? Fuck, even Hades is useless.”
Her mouth went so dry her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. She’d known he was angry, but she hadn’t known he was angry at her, or that he was
unhappy. Or that he’d been jonesing for some good old fashioned depravity.
“So that’s it? You’d rather go back to how you were before I met you? Cold and emotionless? Evil?”
“It was easier!” he shouted.
“I see.” She licked her lips, but it was like licking sandpaper with pumice. “Well, I hate to tell you this, but love is hard. Relationships are work. Anything that’s worthwhile is.”
“Yeah?” His rumbling laughter filled the room and sent chills across her skin. “That’s all you’ve got? A lecture?”
So stubborn. “I’ve got love, Azagoth.”
He snorted dismissively, and it was like a blow to the heart. “That’s what got me into this mess.”
Her sucker-punched heart squeezed painfully, and tears stung her eyes. They’d been through so much, and she’d been so patient with him. She knew his life wasn’t an easy one and that he constantly struggled with the evil that surrounded him, and she could allow him a lot of leeway.
But she didn’t deserve this.
“Fuck you,” she rasped as she spun toward the door.
She wanted to rail at him, to hurt him the way he’d hurt her, but she didn’t have the words or the breath. Anything more complex than telling him to get intimate with himself would make her break down into a sobbing mess.
She stumbled over her own feet as she flung herself out of the library, her watery, blurry eyes not helping anything at all.
“Wait! Lilliana, wait.” Azagoth caught her by the arm and spun her around. “I’m sorry.”
She jerked out of his grip. “I don’t care. You don’t get to say you regret loving me and then wipe it all away with two words.”
“I didn’t say I regret loving you.”
“Semantics. Don’t play that bullshit.”
“I spent thousands of years being unable to feel, being unable to connect to anyone, and now I have all these children I want to know, but...” He jammed his hand through his hair so viciously she expected him to come away with tufts between his fingers. “Sometimes emotions overwhelm me and I don’t know how to handle them. Yes, for a few moments I wanted to get rid of the pain. I just wanted to breathe for a second. But I’ve never once wanted to get rid of you. Please,” he begged, falling to his knees in front of her. “I don’t know how to do this.”