by Inez Kelley
“Aw, fuck it,” Myth snapped. “It’ll take me an hour to figure this out. Zale, what’s it say?”
Nomad waved him away, his focus on his suturing needle. Dray took Zale’s place as he stepped aside, wiping blood from his hands onto his shirt. He took the strip of parchment and laid it on the counter, afraid to blur the fragile writing anymore. It was torn and smudged, in a language he’d not seen since becoming human. He struggled.
The Watchers’ language had morphed over time and many of the symbols were unknown to him. He could make out the markings for Lacy’s name, however, and her resting spot.
“It’s from the Eyts Vangelus.”
“Lacy?” Vike’s whisper was thick with fear.
“Yes, but more than that. It’s a field of Scion, one of Samael’s hidden caches.” Cold duty steeled his stomach. Drawing a deep breath, he faced his men. “Let’s go.”
“You’re fucking waiting on me,” Nomad snarled still hunched over Sela’s back. “I need at least fifteen to finish here.”
“You’re staying.”
Nomad’s head snapped up. “Screw that. You need every warrior you’ve got.”
“We can’t leave Sela alone. H2Q has been compromised. We don’t know how that man found us or who he might bring back. We can’t risk her.”
“Draw straws.” Nomad growled. “Because I’m not babysitting while you’re all out kicking Leech ass again.”
“You play with straws, I’m going.” Vike drew himself to his full height.
“Someone we trust has to be with her,” Zale insisted.
Vike’s hard finger jabbed into his chest. “You stay.”
Not one man wanted to be left behind but they couldn’t leave Sela unguarded. Zale rubbed his temples then stopped as an idea sprouted. It was a risk, undoubtedly, but he might have found an answer. Thankfully, his black BDUs barely showed any blood. His shirt, however, was a crimson Rorschach test.
Stripping it off and tossing it aside, he turned the sink faucet to high. “Rex, give me your shirt.”
The Roman didn’t hesitate, tugging the pale green polo over his head and handing it over. Zale scrubbed the blood away from his arms as fast as he could. He tugged on the borrowed shirt as he headed for the patio door. “As soon as Mad’s done, we leave.”
“Where are you going?” Myth called.
“To get someone we can trust.”
Zale Leaped from the Quad without further explanation. Dray turned with a quizzical expression on his face. “What the hell did that mean?”
“Who knows?” Rex shrugged. “And who was that guy with Sela?”
“Not your enemy,” Dray mocked.
“Yeah, he’s a fucking riddle we don’t have time to figure out.” Nomad tossed a bloody sponge in a pan then jerked his head. “Guys, get out of here so I can work.”
They filed out of the medi-room in tense silence.
“Is this it?” Ominously soft, Dray’s voice raised the hair on the back of Vike’s neck. “Is this Armageddon starting?”
“No.” Clarity shone on Myth’s smooth cheeks. “Samael still needs one more Chief to equal seven. We won’t let him twist Lacy into becoming that one.”
The stillness that followed carried a loud question. What if they failed?
Vike was covered in Lacy’s blood, now dried and stiff. He Leaped upstairs and took a two-minute shower to scrub the hated red away. It was a reminder he not only allowed Lacy to die, he’d let her soul be stolen. By Galina.
A promise pumped through his marrow. He was going to track that Minion-bitch down if it took a thousand years and carve her into bite-sized pieces. Her ashes he wouldn’t scatter. She deserved every torment Samael could heap on her. Vike would even give him a few ideas.
Throwing on his blacks, he grabbed a bandana from the drawer. Paper spun to the carpet. He scooped it up and opened it.
Erik,
Think about me while you’re away and I’ll be waiting when you get back. ~Lacy
Pain stabbed into his belly. He fisted the bandana. “Hang in there, Lace. I’m coming to get you, babe.”
The black cotton covered his wet, gold hair, a practice he’d long ago learned helped him to hide in the dark. He had no idea where they were going but he wanted to be ready for anything. His injured Mark stung as he bent to lace his boots but he used that pain, internalized it and anticipated delivering more.
Sliding the tiny paper into his pocket, he Leaped back to the medi-room. Dray and Rex had both changed into blacks and paced like two toms stalking a cat in heat. Myth’s low voice carried from the recovery room and Vike strained but couldn’t hear Sela answering. Nomad entered from the bathroom smoothing a wrinkled tee over his stomach. His face boasted more lines of strain than the wordless black cotton.
There was nothing to do but wait. The wait was less than three minutes. Zale Leaped into the Quad holding the hand of dark-haired woman wearing a paramedic’s uniform. Dread mixed with guilt and lodged in Vike’s throat. Annie. How could Zale bring her here? Had he told her everything? Of course he had. He couldn’t tell a lie. Had he explained that Vike had lost her sister, let a Minion of Satan rip her open like a deer carcass over some battered fish and potatoes?
She swayed and he caught her. “You weren’t kidding about this stuff.”
Once she was steady on her feet, Zale released her hand and faced the men gawking at him. “Annie knows what we are.”
The emphasis Zale had placed on ‘what’ told a lot. Annie knew they were pariah guards of the Creator but their identities were safe. The amazed look she darted over all of them wasn’t colored by horror or disgust. Vike avoided looking at her face, not wanting to catch her eye.
Like her sister, Annie was hard to ignore. She stepped directly in front of him. “Find her, Erik. Bring her home safe.”
“I told her Lacy had been taken but we’ll get her back.”
Zale’s truth was shaded, not lying but also not mentioning that they weren’t retrieving Lacy’s body but her soul. Lacy’s butchered remains were below in the Hall of Infamy. The pleading in Annie’s eyes nearly buckled his knees. Vike couldn’t find the voice to answer so he merely nodded.
Nomad, a strangely pleasant smile on his face, held out his hand. “Annie? I’m Dr. Maddox. If you come through here, I’ll show you the patient.”
With a brisk handshake, she followed him into the recovery room. Vike turned his attention back to Zale. “Her? You really think she can guard Sela?”
“No.” Zale stripped off the borrowed shirt and caught the black one Myth tossed him. “I think she’s the best we have to stay with Sela while she heals and to alert us if anything trips the alarms. Can you name another person who has a vested interest in finding Lacy?”
“Lacy’s dead. Annie doesn’t know that.”
The general was still, not moving for a long moment. “We’ll tell her when Lacy’s soul is safe. It’s the only peace we can give her.”
“Since when do you give a shit if anyone finds peace or not?”
“What purpose does it serve alienating Lacy’s sister when we can use her to watch over Sela? I do what I have to do to win the war. Her peace is a by-product that suits our needs.”
There, in a nutshell, was the major difference between them. Vike reacted. Zale planned. It took both to win in battle but in the wrong order, they could be deadly. As much as it stung his pride, Vike forced himself to look directly into Zale’s face. “You’re right. I hadn’t looked at it that way.”
Zale just nodded and pulled the shirt over his head. He spent two minutes inside with Annie, instructing her on alarms, then he and Nomad joined the team in the Quad.
“No weapons until we clear the area of tourists.”
“Where’re we going?” Dray cracked his knuckles.
“The Mouth of Hell.”
Chapter Twenty-One
An angel. She was babysitting an injured angel. Annie pushed her amazement away and concentrated on her patient’s vitals. Dr.
Maddox had said they were within normal range and there was no medical treatment required of her. Curiosity couldn’t be ignored though, and her eyes fell back to the woman sleeping on her stomach.
One large wing was wrapped in tape and gauze, holding it close to her body. The other hung to the floor. Pale brown, the color of a wren’s belly, it didn’t really have feathers. She stroked the fluffy covering and her mouth dropped open. Pure silk.
The wing twitched under her hand and she automatically murmured, “It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.”
How could anyone hurt something so beautiful? A nauseating burn had cauterized what looked like a huge bite mark but no human had a mouth that large or teeth that jagged, that long. Annie wasn’t sure what animal had a human-shaped mouth though. In addition to the bite, there were gashes and cuts along her back. Two large slashes had also been seared shut near those graceful wings’ beginnings.
Annie dug through the cabinets until she found a basin and filled it with water. Using a washcloth and the gentlest touch she could, Annie began to wipe the dried blood away. Smooth skin marked with bruises was unveiled with each stroke until the water was red. She refilled the basin and started over, stripping all blood from the angel’s back.
Dr. Maddox had tossed a sheet over the angel’s behind but Annie rolled it down to reveal even more red-crusted skin. Training kicked in and she didn’t question as words slipped from her tongue.
“I’m just washing you off. You’re too beautiful to be dirty. You know, I wanted to believe in angels, in God, but I see so much pain, so much hurting, it’s hard at times. But you’re here and you’re real. I can’t believe it, but I’m standing right here and I see you. It’s like a miracle.”
Water wrung from the cloth, the drops sounding loud in the hushed room.
“I thought Zale was lying at first, but I couldn’t explain what I saw him do. So when he spoke of angels, I wanted to believe that, too. I couldn’t say no when he asked for my help.”
Annie’s eyes went wide as one tiny scratch healed before her eyes. The larger more deadly wounds would take time, of course, but even they began to lose the harsh redness of new injuries. Blue bruises darkened, turned green and yellow then faded to clear, golden skin. Annie swallowed.
“Let’s get some of that blood out of your hair, okay? You have enough to worry about without your scalp itching as it dries.” She emptied and refilled the small plastic tub once more. She couldn’t find a comb anywhere so dug into her own purse. “I promise I don’t have lice or cooties or anything like that.”
Slowly, doing her best to not pull or tug, Annie washed and combed the long hair to a smooth shine. All the while, she kept a running commentary, commenting on how pretty the hair was, how Zale came to her for help, how he was annoying and brusque but also kind of shy in an awkward way. She was threading the comb through one last long piece when she realized the angel’s eyes were open and watching her.
For six loud heartbeats, Annie froze, caught by the rainbow stare. She sat, bringing her level with her patient’s face. “I’m Annie, Lacy’s sister.”
“I know who you are, woman.” Her voice was scratchy, hoarse from healing. “I am called Sela.”
“Sela,” Annie murmured.
“Where are my men?”
“They went to save Lacy. Zale said she’d been taken by the Third. Is that right? The Third?”
“I need to be with them.” Frail yet defined arms struggled to push her body up.
“Oh no, you can’t.” Annie jerked to her feet. “You’re hurt.”
“They need me.”
“They’ll need you whole and healed. Look, Dr. Maddox said you can heal yourself but you need time. Give yourself the time so you can really help them and not hinder them.”
Sela lowered back to the mattress, her arms shaking and sweat dotting her forehead. “You didn’t need to come here. Zale had no right to ask this of you.”
“I’m glad he did. You’re all doing so much to keep Lacy safe. This is just a little way to help repay that. I wanted to help.”
She swiped the cool cloth over the angel’s face. Sela’s eyes fluttered then stayed closed, her body sinking into relaxation. Annie brushed her fingertips along her cheek. “Just rest. I’ll be right here if you need something.”
Healing quiet filled the room. Settling into a recliner beside the bed, Annie just watched the angel sleep. Ten minutes passed. Almost all of the small bruises had faded now. Only the deepest, darkest ones remained. The gruesome cuts began to knit closed.
A steady beep filled the left corner of the room. The alarm. Zale had instructed her to call him immediately if the machine went off or if anything happened. She wasn’t supposed to believe anything anyone who appeared said to her, not even if he claimed to be God himself.
Fear tripped icy fingers down her spine as she lunged for her cell. A shadow fell across her hand and she looked up, praying it was Zale or one of the others. It wasn’t.
A bloody knife, needles and other medical paraphernalia cluttered the sink, waiting to be sanitized and repackaged. Annie dove, snagged the blade and brandished it like a sword. “Get out of here!”
“Peace be to you woman. I mean you no harm.” He was possibly the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen but a dark bruise circled his left eye. Those swirling kaleidoscope eyes were kind until they fell on Sela then they went flat. “What did they do to her?”
“I said get out!” Annie stood between him and the bed, shielding Sela with her body. Behind her back, she fumbled with her cell, turning it on with her thumb. She pressed the number two.
“I need to see her.”
The male angel carried a leather satchel over his shoulder. The strap pulled on the neckline of his red sleeveless robe but didn’t interfere with the creamy wings folded at his back. It also didn’t touch the long, silver sword hanging at his hip.
Her palm was sweaty on the knife handle but she tightened her fingers. Was she really standing between two messengers of God? Just because he claimed to be an angel and looked like an angel didn’t mean he was an angel. He could be lying. All she really knew was the woman behind her was hurt. It was enough for her. She widened her stance and lifted the knife higher. “Go away.”
“Let me help her. I am Michael.”
“Michael? Like Archangel Michael from the Bible?”
“Yes.” His smile was dazzling. “Put down your blade.”
“Not a chance. Leave.”
Determination thinned his lips as he strode forward. “I’m afraid that isn’t possible.”
“Fuck me, this is one huge hole.” Dray leaned over the low stone railing, staring down into the smoke-spitting crater.
Sulfur overpowered everything, the scorched scent seeping into Vike’s skin within seconds of dematerializing in Masaya, Nicaragua. Centuries of volcanic activity had saturated the ground until not even the stiffest breeze could whisk the stench away. Smoke rolled from the crater in a thick plume. Thin lines of iridescence cut through the rock and sparkled when the wind drew the smoke away long enough for the sun to touch them. Dead center was a pit of glowing orange. High on the rocks, a slender cross cast a shadow that stretched along the ugly scar in the Earth.
There were only a handful of tourists and Nomad sent them away easily enough, pretending to be a Masaya National Park ranger. Once the parking lot cleared out, he Leaped down and closed the main entrance gate. Vike scoured the crater rim but found no signs of the Third. Part of him wished they would appear just so he could rid his body of this gnawing guilt. Destruction was a soothing balm he’d used for centuries until he was almost numb. It’d taken a valkyrja with a tender touch to thaw his heart and he’d failed her when she needed him most.
“Please tell me we’re not diving into a lava bath.” Rex frowned. “Extra-crispy is not my best look.”
“The Watchers wrote that the Scionim sleeps in the fiery cave of Nindiri, near the Mouth of Hell. That’s Nindiri.” Their eyes followed the pa
th of Zale’s long finger, pointing down into the crater. “There’s a hidden cave down there somewhere.”
Dray hung his head with a groan. “Why can’t Samael use a nice storage locker like a normal person?”
Zale scowled then disappeared. Vike followed, Leaping down into the smoky pit. The black rocks beneath his boots were brittle, crumbling to dust under his weight. The surface wasn’t flat. Dips and swells pock-marked the Earth to show where the volcanic activity had strained the ground. Heat baked them, shimmering in a fine sheen of sweat on everyone’s skin.
Not needing directions, they all set out to search for the cave. Colors of gold, silver, blue, red and green snaked through the layers of rock, some glistening in the sun. Vike coughed and spat dark-colored spit to the ground. Above, posted warning signs encouraged tourists to limit exposure to fifteen minutes. Down in the crater, the noxious fumes would have killed any human by now. For his team, they all just coughed and spit, fighting the headache the burning chemical smoke inflicted.
“Found it,” shouted Nomad twenty minutes later, waving his arms to draw their attention. Omen sat at his feet, his canine focus locked on the striated rock. They all ran to him, not Leaping, and Vike wondered if his team needed the outlet of energy as much as he did.
A finger-wide crack in the crater slope arched from the floor to over their head, curved then shot straight down again. A beetle crawled from the demarcation, hinting there was more than solid stone behind it. Vike called his axe, wedging the head into the split. Once he’d moved it an inch, Myth and Dray pulled the rock away to reveal a crude entrance, more crawl space than doorway.
A loud chirp whipped all their heads around. Myth’s illegal and highly functional signal booster on the phone stuck out like a thumb as Zale stared at the display. “It’s Annie. H2Q has an intruder.”