by Susan Illene
The archangel nodded. “Yes, we heard that as well. Her nerou students have yet to be wrong, but we are not certain on the nature of the next attack. The only details the seer has been able to offer is that he envisions thousands of deaths with bodies and debris littering the ground.”
“You don’t have your own sources with more details?” Bartol asked.
Remiel sat back in his chair, frustration on his face. “None we can use in this instance. It is a rather complicated matter.”
“It always is with you people,” Caius muttered.
“There has been enough death already, and we have less than a week to stop the next attack,” Bartol said, unwilling to join his friend’s ire. He could get angry about the archangels not doing more as well, but he’d long since learned arguing wouldn’t do any good. “That’s not a lot of time.”
“No, it is not,” Remiel agreed.
Caius clutched his knife and fork as if he planned to stab someone with them. “The demon has to be unimaginably powerful after this last tragedy. If people start killing each other over the mosque fires, it will fuel him even more. This has to end now before nothing can stop him.”
Except it wouldn’t be easy. “How will we do that if he’s stronger than ever, and he has the Gregorian stones? We couldn’t get near him before this last attack when he was weaker and an easier target.”
Bartol went on to explain to Remiel how they’d run into Haagenti in Prague, and what prevented them from fighting back.
The archangel was quiet for a moment. “It won’t be simple, and it is going to require a coordinated plan. We will need sensors who do not have angel blood to nullify the Gregorian stones. It is one of the reasons their race was created in the first place—to do that very job the last time this issue arose.”
“Good luck finding any volunteers,” Caius said. He continued with his meal, not appearing convinced that the first step could be accomplished.
Bartol had seen Melena’s bravery and had to believe there were others like her out there—without the angel blood. He wouldn’t rule them out just yet. “Assuming a few sensors do manage to get close enough to render the stones mute, who will fight the demon?”
“That is where the plan becomes more complicated. We have an answer to that, but it is one that holds quite a lot of controversy among my brethren.” Remiel rubbed his face. “But I don’t see any other choice if we wish to do away with the demon permanently.”
“What is it?” Bartol could not imagine them arguing over a solution if it could help, but who knew what sort of debates they had in Archangel Headquarters.
“You are part of it.”
Bartol stiffened. “What does it have to do with me?”
“Gregorian stones aside, you are no doubt aware you have unusual powers when it relates to demons—whether you use them or not,” the archangel replied, giving him a pointed look.
Bartol threw his napkin on the table. “I can’t control those powers.”
“You managed it once, mostly.” This came from Caius.
Bartol glared at his friend. “I wouldn’t call it managing. I killed over a dozen innocent humans before you stopped me, and even then it was only because you found a strong enough fae willing to put me to sleep.”
Every month after that, they’d woken Bartol to see if he had regained sanity. Each time he had lashed out in a killing rage, and they’d been forced to put him back under. Only after six months had passed was he able to control himself. He stood and moved toward the window, turning his back on them. “I can’t do that again,” he continued, staring out at the night sky, “…especially now that I have a mate to consider.”
The battle with the demon so many centuries ago was the real reason Bartol had stopped fighting and turned to seducing women instead. It had been the safer option. It was one thing to fight in a war against soldiers who expected they might die. At least they had weapons and a chance to strike back. What Bartol had done that fateful day against unarmed innocents—it had been a massacre. He’d been no better than the demon he executed when he tore through those humans like they were helpless sheep.
Bartol swung around. “Not to mention I’ve never faced anything as powerful as the demon we are dealing with now. What that might do to me, assuming I could survive the battle with him, is not worth it.”
“It’s been nearly a thousand years,” Remiel said, rising to his feet and moving closer to Bartol. “You are stronger than ever—or will be once you’ve recovered from your ordeal. And you have other advantages that you did not have back then.”
Bartol frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Where do you think you get your demon killing abilities?”
He’d always had his suspicions. “I assume from my father.”
“Indeed, and Raguel could be of assistance now. He was once a powerful archangel who led a legion of warriors to fight and kill demons during the war with Hell. Most were decommissioned or repurposed after the treaty, but your father retained all of his particular abilities and powers.”
“Wouldn’t he have been banished to Hell after I was born?” Bartol asked, both confused and surprised by a lineage he hadn’t known about until now. “There is no way Raguel could or would help us.”
A slight smile formed on Remiel’s lips. “If the archangel were anyone else, you would be correct, but we could not afford to lose him—even if he did produce a nephilim offspring. He has been held in stasis in Purgatory your entire life. We kept him because he is the only remaining angel with the ability to kill the most powerful demons.”
His father hadn’t fallen? And he’d been in Purgatory while Bartol was there? “This cannot be real. You must be joking.”
“When have you known me to make light of any serious matter?”
Never, though the archangel could exhibit dry sarcasm at times.
“You said he’s in stasis, but what does that mean?” Bartol asked.
“He has not been awake since we discovered you after you were born. Consider it to be something similar to “The Sleep,” using similar magic to what the fae use to put nephilim and vampires under.” Remiel straightened his shoulders. “If you agree to fight, we will wake your father, and you will battle alongside the greatest warrior the archangels have ever had.”
Bartol stood there in stunned silence for a whole minute. No nephilim ever expected to meet their father, aside from Lucas and Micah, who were exceptions to the rule due to an experiment that went badly. “I assume my sire has more control than I do.”
“Considerably, and he can help you.”
“Why can’t he fight alone if he’s that good?” It made more sense than sending Bartol out there when he could end up being a liability.
“We drained him of his powers in order to put him in stasis. There won’t be time for him to fully regenerate before the demon has to be stopped,” Remiel explained.
Bartol ran a hand through his hair. “This will still be dangerous even with two of us, and I have Cori to consider. I don’t want to risk leaving her alone, or using my ability to such a degree that it’s no longer safe to be near her.”
“There are risks, of course,” the archangel said, leveling his gaze. “But if we do not stop the demon now—before his attack on London—it may not be possible to stop him at all in the future. The planet will become a far more dangerous and chaotic place than it is now. Do you want your mate to live in such a world?”
Bartol crossed his arms. “You want me to be a hero, but I’m far from one. I’m broken—if you haven’t noticed—and I can’t stand the touch of others. The world would be better off with someone else saving it.”
“True heroes are usually the most reluctant of us all, and they often have their own inner demons to face.” Remiel gave him a look of confidence. “We will provide you with whatever you need to accomplish the task, as well as a reward.”
“Why reward me when you know there’s a chance I’ll do it anyway?” Bartol asked, cocking his head.
“We are asking you to take on an archangel’s job despite it not being your duty.”
Once more, they were paying him when they never did such a thing for the rest of his kind. “I need to think about this.” He rubbed his face, exhaustion settling into his body. “But while I’m doing that, I want you to look into the situation with the nerou compound in Russia. It is underfunded, lacks the right trainers for important skills such as cooking, and the living conditions are a mere step or two above Purgatory.”
Remiel was quiet for a moment. “That compound is not under my jurisdiction, but I will do everything I can to resolve the situation.”
“Don’t fail them. They deserve better than that,” Bartol said, tone brooking no argument.
“Of course. In the meantime, I suggest you call your mate and speak to her if it will aid in your decision.” The archangel stood tall, gathering his power. “I will return tomorrow.”
He flashed away, leaving Bartol with a lot to consider.
Chapter 23
Cori
Cori paced between the living room and kitchen, unable to stand still. The last week had been rough, worrying about whether Bartol was dead or worse, but somehow waiting for him to call her after finding out he was alive was harder. She needed to hear his voice to truly believe it.
“Will you please sit down?” her mother asked, calm and collected while she sat on the couch knitting a yellow blanket.
“I can’t.” Cori glanced at her cell phone. “He could call at any minute.”
“And you’ll be too out of breath to talk to him, assuming you don’t pass out.” She shook her head and sighed. “I wish you could see how pale you are right now.”
“I’m fine.”
Joy gave her a censorious look. “No, you’re not. You’ve hardly eaten a thing all week, and when you do, you usually throw it back up. It’s a miracle you’re standing.”
This wasn’t the first time they’d had this argument in the last few days. “I’m not exactly human anymore, Mom. I can handle it.”
“Sweetheart, I think you should consider…”
Cori’s cell phone rang. She held up a hand to her mother, silencing her, and answered. “Bartol?”
“Yes, it’s me.”
Her knees went weak at hearing his voice. Cori grabbed the nearest seat at the dining room table and sank down on it. “I’ve been worried.”
“I know, and I’m sorry for that.” His voice came out raw and tired. “Remiel insisted we shower and eat before we did anything else.”
“It’s okay. He told us you’d need time to recuperate, and if you need more it’s alright, I just needed to hear your voice.” She didn’t want to let him go this fast, but she could only imagine what he’d been through, and how he might need time to himself.
“No. I need to hear your voice as well.”
She closed her eyes, wishing she could be in the same room with him. “This mating bond is making me crazy.”
“You are not the only one.” She could almost ‘hear’ him smile. “Are you doing well?” he asked.
“I’m doing better now, but I’m still worried about you. Remiel said he found you and Caius deep inside a mountain in Norway, but he didn’t say what happened while you were there—and there’s no sign of Tormod.”
“The demon took the three of us minutes after we arrived in Prague,” Bartol explained. “We didn’t stand a chance of getting away from him before he hit us with some sort of dark spell. I have no idea what happened after that until waking earlier today. Well, with the exception of one thing.” Bartol went on to explain how they’d found the demon’s symbol carved onto their backs and how it affected them.
She shuddered. “That’s horrible. Are they gone now?”
“Yes, though we had to remove them before Remiel could locate us.”
“How…how did you do it?” Cori knew she probably shouldn’t ask, but she needed to understand everything Bartol had been through—even the worst parts.
A few seconds of silence passed. “It wasn’t pretty. We had to cut and peel the skin off each other’s backs with a jagged piece of rock.”
Her gut clenched as she envisioned what that must have looked and felt like. “I’m sorry.”
“I’ve had worse,” Bartol admitted. “Kerbasi prepared me for just about anything…with the exception of you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked, pretending to be offended.
“If I’ve learned anything on this journey so far, it is that I want it to be over as quickly as possible so that I can return to you. I have no idea how I got caught up in your tangled web, but I miss being in it.”
“Ha, ha.” Cori almost smiled. “You have no idea how much I want to hop on a plane right now and fly to you. If not for my mother and the others talking me out of it, I’d probably be on my way already.”
“I’m glad they are keeping you there,” he said, voice turning stern. “It is too dangerous for you to leave Alaska until this demon is dead.”
She found that debatable, considering it was clearly not safe for Bartol out there, either. “So what is the plan for tracking and killing the damn thing?”
“That’s complicated.”
Cori didn’t miss the hesitation in his voice at answering her. “How so?”
“Remiel believes I must take part in the slaying.”
She clutched her cell phone. “Why you? And how are you supposed to do that when you can’t even get close?”
“The archangel has a plan for that, though it won’t be an easy one.” He went on to describe how they’d use sensors to nullify the Gregorian stones in the first phase.
“Even if they manage it…” Cori thought it over. “I don’t think sensors could pull it off without a lot of protection since the only ones you could use will be mortal, assuming you find enough volunteers. And if—by some miracle—that works, why do they think you could take out the demon?”
“I’ve recently learned it’s in my blood…and that I’d have help from someone else,” he replied, once more hesitating.
Cori took a deep breath, trying to be patient though she really didn’t like this plan already, and she didn’t even know all the details yet. “Who?”
“My father.”
Stunned, she dropped the phone in her lap and had to scramble to pick it back up. “Your father? But I thought he’d be fallen or something.”
“I did as well until today.” Bartol cleared his throat. “But according to Remiel, they did not send him to Hell because they couldn’t afford to lose him.”
“What makes him so special?”
“I asked the same question.” He let out an ironic laugh. “Raguel—my father—used to be the head of a legion of angels who fought demons during the battles with Hell. Apparently, when he got in trouble for siring me, they decided they couldn’t lose him and put him in stasis instead. Remiel says I’ve inherited the ability to slay demons from my sire.”
Cori took a moment to process the news. “Do you think you can?”
“I have once before…long ago, but there was a price.”
Why hadn’t he told her this before he left on his trip? It would have made her feel a little better about sending him if she’d known what he could do, and it explained why Remiel supported his going on the trip. “What’s the price?”
“Killing a demon sends me into a berserker rage. I absorb a certain amount of their power when I kill them, which makes me lose my mind. Anyone nearby—especially mortals—are vulnerable.” He paused, sucking in a breath. “The first and only time I killed a demon, more than a dozen humans died in the aftermath. Caius couldn’t stop me, so he had to convince a fae to put me into a deep sleep. It took six months before I could regain control over myself again.”
Cori sat there frozen. “Why didn’t you tell me about this before?”
“I was ashamed,” Bartol admitted.
“Even after you found out what I’d done to Griff?” she asked. I
t wasn’t like she didn’t have any blood on her hands either, and her excuse wasn’t nearly as good.
He expelled a breath. “You can’t compare the two of us. What happened with me occurred long ago, and it was hardly worth bringing up until now.”
They’d have to argue that point later, but for now, she’d let it be, considering they had more important things to discuss. “So if killing a demon turns you into a berserker, what does it do to your father?”
“Remiel says my sire has more control, and he might be able to help me.”
That was encouraging. “So between the two of you, you should be able to take this demon down without losing your minds?”
“That is the theory, though I don’t feel as confident as Remiel.”
“Why not?” she asked.
“Because I remember the killing rage I felt as I absorbed some of the demon’s essence—and he wasn’t even as powerful as the one I will face soon. I don’t think the little time I’ll have with my father before the battle will be enough to prepare me.” He was silent for a moment. “There is a reason I’ve avoided fighting for all these years and chose other activities instead. I never wanted to risk hurting anyone again should I lose control.”
Cori was beginning to see why he stayed away from conflict. She’d thought it was part of his personality, but now she understood Bartol’s battle with the last demon influenced him in ways she hadn’t known about before. He was afraid of hurting people, which she could respect.
If only the fate of the world wasn’t in her mate’s hands.
“You’re older, stronger, and you have me now,” she said, sounding more confident than she felt.
He made a noise of disgruntlement. “That may not be enough.”
If it were up to her, she would keep him close in Alaska, but she’d seen the news. The demon was racking up a body count, and according to Remiel, it would only get worse from here on out. Someone had to stop the damned creature before it was too late. Cori might have her faults, but she wouldn’t sacrifice world safety for selfish reasons. It sounded like Bartol—with his father’s help—could win this fight. She had to let him do it and pray he came back to her.