by J. K. Coi
“You keep shooting your mouth off and you won’t be ushering in any new order until the next millennium.” He refused to let this asshole see his fear. Or his rage. It was impossible to tell anymore which feelings were his own and which were more of Lucifer’s attempts to gain control.
The angel’s sick grin widened as he slammed his fist into Gabriel’s face. Pain exploded in his cheekbone as his head whipped to the side. He stumbled back, slipping in the muddy trail. Damn, the angel was strong.
Standing, Gabriel blinked through the rain pouring down his face. Fury rushed in his veins, bled from his pores. With a roar he leaped forward, retaliating with a hard shot to Donato’s smug face.
Despite putting everything he had behind the hit, the angel barely twitched an eye. Donato’s laughter rang out as he reached over his shoulder and drew the long sword from his back.
I guess we’re not going to be doing this the easy way.
“Gabriel!”
Amelia. Keeping his eyes on Donato, he shook his head, silently begging her to stay away.
“Stop fucking around,” he snarled at the other angel, goading him. “If you want Lucifer, take the bastard already and leave me the hell alone. You have no idea how sick I am of your pathetic little turf war.”
Amelia’s panicked shout reached him as Donato’s eyes flared. One hand reached for Gabriel, curling over his shoulders. He immediately felt the angel ripping into his mind, tearing open a doorway between them.
At the same time Donato’s sword speared Gabriel through the gut.
He couldn’t swallow the bellow of agony. His legs collapsed and he fell to his knees in the thick mud, shouting again when the length of steel twisted before it was abruptly drawn back out of him.
Pressing a hand to the wound, he looked down at the hot blood pouring out in thick spurts between his fingers, mixing with the cold rain. He could think of nothing but Amelia.
It was so hard to focus. He needed to find Amelia. He couldn’t see her, but she was there somewhere in the murky waters of his consciousness. He pictured her smile and mumbled a prayer that she’d be able to finish it. She would have to be the one to do what was necessary when the moment came.
This is it, he thought. As Donato pushed into his mind, Gabriel stopped fighting and willingly removed what was left of the barriers that had barely kept Lucifer under wraps.
Suddenly he felt Donato’s withdrawal. Struggling to open his eyes, Gabriel blinked through the pain and looked up, wondering why the angel had prematurely let him go.
Amelia.
“No.” His whispered denial was snatched away on the wind. She was trying to save him. Stubborn. Defiant. The little idiot.
Donato had turned away to meet Amelia’s blade, but she was forced to protect herself from several attackers, all coming down on her at once.
Fury and determination were evident in every line of her face and in the powerful swipe of her weapon as she hacked her way through Donato’s accomplices. If Gabriel hadn’t been so furious with her, he would have been awed by her.
When Cassiel appeared at her side, Gabriel tried to get to his feet and shout a warning, but it got caught in his throat as he fell back into the mud. Blood bubbled from his mouth and ran down his chin. He let out a shaky breath of relief when, instead of joining the others in attacking her, for some reason Cassiel positioned himself on point at Amelia’s back.
Gabriel still didn’t like the cagey, flip-flopping bastard, but anything that helped Amelia…
He blinked through a sharp spasm of pain but was glad for it at the same time. The pain helped him stay focused. His gaze never left Amelia. She was a breathtaking golden warrior, but there were so goddamn many against her. The rogue angels continued to come out of the woodworks, outnumbering her ten to one, and the insane Archangel refused to back down, refused to save herself and leave him.
Gabriel threw up a silent prayer, but as Amelia took hit after hit, he feared no one was listening.
She called his name, but he could barely hear anything anymore, as if there were miles between them instead of only a few feet. The muscles of his arms and legs had stiffened painfully, and the cold seeped into the very marrow of his bones. Gabriel started to shiver and his eyes dropped shut. He struggled to open them again, needing to keep Amelia in his sights, but it was so hard.
Inside him Lucifer raged, fully aware that his one chance at a full resurrection was flooding away along with Gabriel’s life’s blood. It’s okay. For the best. As long as I know she’ll live…
A pained feminine shout. Short, as the sound was abruptly cut off.
Gritting his teeth, Gabriel forced his leaded eyelids open, but his white warrior was gone. “Amelia.” His voice was a hoarse panic-filled croak.
Scanning the field, he saw her wings first.
“No.” The whispered denial was wrenched from his lips, his heart releasing a torrent of anguish that crawled up his throat, fighting to erupt in a grief-stricken cry that would rock the heavens.
Donato’s triumphant bellow echoed into the darkness of the stormy twilight. He whirled around to stalk back toward Gabriel, but Gabriel couldn’t take his eyes from Amelia’s wings. Trampled into the ground, her beautiful white feathers caked in the thick mud.
“No,” he repeated, louder. “Amelia!”
An enormous swelling of rage gathered low in his belly, rolling quick and hot through his veins like the echoing thunder that crashed in the churning sky above. It came with a huge surge of power, pulsing from him in monstrous gusts of energy he wouldn’t have been able to contain even if he wanted to. Which he didn’t.
The power burst out of him, slamming into Donato and the others like a car bomb exploding, tossing them all to the ground in every direction like scattered bowling pins with wings.
Amelia’s eyelids flickered but didn’t open. The sight of her lying motionless and broken snapped the last thin thread of resistance. The walls between Gabriel the man and Lucifer the angel crumbled away to nothing.
Pushing himself to his feet, he shoved aside everything but the storm that twisted him inside and out. He felt no pain. Only the pure flood of anger that gave him power.
He lifted his face to the sky with a savage roar, welcoming the sting of the cold rain pelting his closed eyelids, cheeks, and into his mouth as the heat of the blaze within him spewed forth, raging completely out of control.
Fire.
Fire that would burn for days, destroy everything. A fire he no longer had any intention of fighting.
The decision was conscious, consensual and express.
The result was immediate.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The booming roar of Gabriel’s fury stabbed Amelia in the heart. It would forever echo in her mind, forever ring in her soul, a mark of her failure.
She felt the cold, wet dirt coating her cheek and winced. Her fingers curled into the thick sludge. She pushed them down deeper, needing the harsh sting of the hidden pebbles digging under her nails to keep her from screaming along with Gabriel as she forced herself to her knees. But the piercing agony of multiple stab wounds tore a broken cry from her anyway.
Opening her eyes, she could do nothing but lift her head and watch as the change hit Gabriel like a bolt of lightning to the chest, stealing his breath and turning his cry of rage to a tortured howl. The force of the power being released lifted him right off his feet into the air.
From human to Archangel, Gabriel’s transformation was much more dramatic than hers had been. He hunched over as he crashed back to earth and landed on his knees, drawing deep gasps of air into his lungs.
She struggled to get to her feet, wanting to go to him and help him through the pain, but he suddenly shot upright, his entire body exploding with light as his aura burst forth and encompassed his entire body.
Gasping at the beams of dark reds and blues shot through with gold and emerald and pitch black, Amelia was forced to squint and drop her gaze as the brilliant colors burned bright
er and brighter.
When the light faded and she could look once more, Gabriel was stumbling to his feet. His eyes were dark and shadowed. His clothes torn and dirty, hair plastered to his forehead. But he looked free of injury…and at his back a pair of angel’s wings spread wide open. The long, delicate feathers glistened a midnight black with no variation and absolutely no flaws. They were so stunningly perfect, she could almost imagine that wet ink still dripped from the tips.
Amelia was too late. And in that moment, she thought perhaps she’d never been meant to stop this. “Gabriel,” she whispered.
He heard. His gaze found her right away, eyes narrowing as his hands clenched into tight fists at his sides. Amelia’s chest constricted. Her heart broke and at the same time thudded with dread. Gabriel. Lucifer. How much of the man she’d come to love had survived?
Reaching for her sword, she dragged it to her, wrapping her fingers around the hilt as she struggled to her feet. She refused to wince, to show any evidence of the extent of her injuries.
Gabriel took one step toward her. He looked around him, at the rogue angels still laid out on the ground around him. The ones who’d started to stir were quickly scrambling back, as far away from Gabriel as they could get.
A movement from behind him. Donato rose to his feet. He was lifting his sword high with the point poised between Gabriel’s shoulder blades.
“No!” Amelia cried out and stumbled forward, but she was on the other side of them, too slow and too far away.
Moving faster than anything she’d ever seen, Gabriel spun around, swatting the sword away before his fist locked around Donato’s throat, and he lifted the angel high off the ground. Donato’s disgusting, fanatical laugh wheezed from between sputtering lips.
Amelia pushed to his side and grabbed Gabriel’s arm, his thick muscles tense and tight beneath her fingers. No warmth radiated from his body. He was cold and hard as carved granite.
“Gabriel.” She repeated his name, but he ignored her.
And suddenly he wasn’t cold anymore. Suddenly, he was hot. Heat rolled off his body like molten lava down a mountainside. She jerked her hand away with a hiss.
“You wanted my power so badly. It would be a shame to deprive you of it.” Gabriel didn’t seem to notice as the energy continued to build, creating a vortex of scorching air around him. His gaze never left Donato. “Why don’t I share it with you now?” The sound of his voice scared her. Harsh and hoarse, and completely detached. As if the man inside was gone and what remained was…something else.
Donato opened his mouth to try and speak, but only harsh gurgling sounds emerged.
The heat coming from Gabriel caused steam to rise from his wet clothes and hair, but when Amelia looked at Donato, she gasped. Gabriel was hot, but Donato was already on fire, a fire being fed by the dark angel himself. Smoke clouded his eyes, more coming out of his mouth and ears. Donato was roasting from the inside out.
“Stop,” Amelia whispered. “Gabriel, stop this.” She wasn’t trying to save Donato. He could burn for all she cared, but she didn’t want this for Gabriel. Didn’t want him to do something that would only make Lucifer stronger.
Putting her hands on his arm again, she ignored the heat searing her flesh and tried to reach the man she hoped was still somewhere within the Archangel. “Gabriel, please don’t do this.”
He either couldn’t hear, or wasn’t listening.
Donato’s inhuman, tortured wail sent chills of fear down her spine.
“Gabriel!” she shouted into his ear.
He rounded on her with an animal-like growl that made her want to weep for the unique and irreplaceable humanity that had been destroyed.
The lips that once sang to her with tremendous emotion now curled in a feral snarl, and Gabriel’s once-beautiful chocolate-colored eyes now glowed red with Lucifer’s power as he lowered his gaze to the hand on his arm.
Roughly, he shook off her restraining touch and threw Donato to the ground as if he were nothing but a limp rag doll. Before Amelia could move to place herself between them, Gabriel had conjured Lucifer’s historic black sword and in one smooth, final move, he shoved her aside and ran Donato through the heart with the length of midnight steel.
Without a second glance at the angel’s still-smoking, broken body lying lifeless in the mud, Gabriel swung back around to face her.
She stood her ground, but she was the only one.
During the terrible moment of truth, when it became clear just who they were dealing with, all Donato’s followers had turned tail and retreated back to the angel realms. Only Cassiel remained. He stood at a distance, but he had his sword drawn. From the dark, shuttered look in his eyes, he was determined to take Gabriel on himself.
Gabriel smiled in ardent challenge as his attention swerved to Cassiel, almost as if he’d read her thoughts. “Come on then, Cass old buddy. You want me? Well, at least now I’m ready for you, or don’t you think those are good enough odds anymore?”
His laughter rumbled as he swept his long blade in a wide arc through the air and stepped forward. “But I almost forgot. You’re only brave when facing weak, gullible humans.”
Amelia couldn’t stand it anymore. She stepped in front of Gabriel and dug in her heels, hefting her own sword between them. Its weight seemed to have doubled on her and she wasn’t sure if it was because her injuries made her weak, or because she was reluctant to give up on him.
A thick hank of muddy hair fell over Gabriel’s forehead. The foul smile contorting his face flickered slightly as his gaze dropped and locked on her. For a moment, he wavered. She saw it. She could almost believe…
“Amelia, get away from him. That’s not the man you knew.”
She heard the words but paid Cassiel no heed, her gaze fixed as she searched Gabriel’s expression. Of course, she already knew he was right. Her heart felt like shattered pieces of glass. They’d pierced her soul and bled it dry at her first sight of those beautiful black wings.
But for some reason she continued to harbor a tiny sliver of hope.
And even if she was proved wrong, there was nothing left for her to lose now. She owed it to Gabriel to face him herself…and to kill him herself.
If she could.
Gabriel. Lucifer.
No distinction. No separation.
He was both, but neither. Less, and more. Broken, yet powerful.
The noise in his head. An earsplitting, snowy din that pounded behind his eyes and forehead and wouldn’t stop.
He blinked.
Her eyes. Deep crystal pools that locked on to him, penetrating him. Demanding…something.
Her mouth. Lush and full, her lips parting on a startled gasp as he reached for her. He plunged his fist into her hair and crushed her to him with brutal force.
Her taste. Intimate and familiar. Spicy and wet. A jolt of electricity to his heart. A sudden wash of color and warmth in his soul, bringing him back to life after what seemed an endless eon of darkness.
“Amelia.” She was Amelia. The way her name crossed his lips was yet another reminder.
The long length of steel clutched in her hand barely registered for him, even as its cutting tip threatened his jugular. He held her tighter, held her closer, but she started to pull away.
Anger flared. His hand on the back of her neck squeezed.
She gasped and he paused. Reluctantly, he forced himself to let her go, uncurling his fist with slow deliberateness.
Groaning, she stumbled and fell. On her knees, the sword slipped from her hands and she wrapped her arms around herself.
He saw it now. Blood. Her blood. It was everywhere, flowing from a dozen wounds.
A lancing pain slashed his chest as he followed her down to the ground. How? Had he hurt her? A flash of memory. No, not him.
Everything came back to him then. Jerking his head up, he looked for those who had cut her, stabbed her, made her scream.
Cowards. They may have fled, but he would find them. He would fi
nd all of them and make sure their screams lasted ten times as long.
The violent weather hadn’t let up, even though the day had long ago turned to dusk. The icy rain was still coming down hard, although the rolling thunder started to sound farther away.
Amelia was shivering, her skin pale, lips turning blue. Instinctively, he drew his new wings around them both to protect her from the punishing cold, pulling her tiny frame into the cradle of his arms as he willed his heat into her. She didn’t struggle.
Cradling her head in his shoulder, he tried to push her hands aside and inspect her wounds. His own hands were filthy—covered in dirt and blood—and he couldn’t bear to touch her with them.
“You can’t die.” His voice rasped.
“Not your fault,” she choked. Her eyelids flickered. Once. Twice. When she finally held them open and looked into his face, he held his breath, wondering what she saw. Why did he still care? Why did he care about anything at all?
He jerked his head up as someone stepped toward them. Cassiel stopped a few feet away. “Even if those wounds hadn’t been made with angel steel, they’re too deep to heal on their own.”
“You,” he demanded. “You can heal her.”
The angel shook his head. “No, she’s lost too much blood. Only an Archangel…”
He growled, impatient. “Fine, then get the fuck out of here. You got what you wanted.”
Cassiel’s gaze swung to Amelia before his jaw tightened. “I wanted freedom for my race. I didn’t want this, not for her.”
“Freedom?” he sneered. “At the expense of how many? Or didn’t it matter? Well, enjoy your fucking freedom. Let me know how it tastes after you all start killing each other again, when your war filters down to earth and affects innocent people who don’t have the strength to put a stop to you.”
“It doesn’t have to be that way again.” Cassiel’s expression turned grave. “I’ll make sure of it.”
“Who the hell do you think you’re kidding? Take a look around. Does this look peaceful to you? Do you really believe you’ve got things under control? It’s started already.” The proof was lying motionless in his arms. “You can’t make sure of shit, and you know it. Donato wasn’t the only crazy-ass psychopath among you, or else the Archangels wouldn’t have handicapped all of you in your sterile little bubble for so fucking long.”