Vengeance: The Niteclif Evolutions, Book 3

by Denise Tompkins

  “I’m good, thanks.” I shoved away from the table as he pulled his hand back.

  Hellion looked between the fallen angel and me. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing.” I was being churlish and I knew it, but it didn’t matter. I shouldn’t have said anything about Micah helping me stand, but I wasn’t sure I wanted him laying hands on me in front of Hellion. I’d had enough testosterone exposure recently that I was probably running a high risk of popping out a miniature set of dangly bits all my own.

  I sighed. Now I was being bitchy in the privacy of my mind, and that just didn’t bode well for the day. Shaking my head, I reached for Hellion’s hand. We walked upstairs to the library, our table companions following. We were a somber troupe, each lost in the privacy of our own thoughts.

  I was willing to bet none of them were conducive to group harmony.

  Hellion pulled a digital recorder from the library desk drawer. “Darius can listen on fast forward and catch up while we’re getting ready for the hunt faster than we can bring him up to speed.” He turned to Micah. “I assume we’re going hunting.”

  The Nephilim shrugged and moved toward the window, staring down at the quiet residential street of the exclusive Hyde Park neighborhood. “If he doesn’t come to us here today, then yes, though a part of the day should be spent preparing for the inevitability of his arrival.” The once great and nearly invincible creature shuddered and looked over his shoulder at Bahlin. “For all I’ve told you, you don’t know what it is you face.”

  “No, but I trust Maddy.” His emphasis of my name wasn’t lost on anyone.

  Moving to his chair, I sat on the arm and looked down at him. “Then you’ll have to learn to trust those of us you’re working with regularly.” I’d not ask him to trust Micah when I didn’t, but I would ask that he make an effort where Hellion, his staff and coven, Darius and some of the members of his voyyen were concerned. The infighting was going to get ugly if we didn’t get our differences settled quickly.

  Bahlin whipped his chin to the side, popping his neck. “We’ll see how it goes.”

  I shifted to face him. “Outside the High Council, I’m the Justice Dealer, right?”

  “Yeah. So?”

  “If you’re going to demand respect as the High Council leader, you’ve got to learn to give it.” He opened his mouth to protest and I shook my head and chucked him under the chin. “Even more, you’ve got to learn to be sincere about it.” I walked over to Hellion and slid down beside him and he dropped his arm around my shoulders in a natural movement.

  Bahlin watched us carefully, but I didn’t offer to move or pull away from Hellion. We were all going to have to learn to live with the choices I’d made.

  “Micah?” Hellion called to the angel at the window. “Please, have a seat. We’re depending on you to tell us how to end Agares just as much as you’re counting on us to be able to do it.”

  Micah turned on still-bare feet and padded over to one of the club chairs, sinking into it with supernatural grace. “What I told you yesterday wasn’t untrue, though it was insignificant when compared to the knowledge you’ll need. Agares cannot be ‘ended’ as you wish to do. He is a true demon of the Fourth Circle of Hell.” He stood and looked at the door. For a second I wondered if he would try to make a break for it, but he instead returned to the window. “Have you warded the house against evil?”

  Hellion answered slowly, clearly considering his words. “I have. But I haven’t known enough of what I was up against until now to know exactly how to protect myself and those under my guardianship. I’ve…managed. Given the little I’ve learned, it’s clearly not enough anymore.”

  “Then let’s discuss what I can tell you that will be useful.”

  “Isn’t that what the guy’s been asking you for all along?” Bahlin crossed his arms over his chest and glared up at the fallen angel.

  Micah turned and faced the dragon down, his eyes blazing with that same holy light they’d held yesterday. “Indeed. But tempers, lusts and temper tantrums have been interrupting us at every turn.”

  I leapt up. “No, no, no. We’re not going here again. No one needs to compare winkle sizes with anyone else, yes, you’ve all got a nice pair of balls I’m sure, and no, no one’s set of manly bits is any bigger, better or badder than anyone else’s. Micah, now would be a good time to start talking.”

  The Nephilim snorted with laughter and turned back to the tall window as Hellion and Bahlin, the two whose manly bits I actually could compare in a pinch, studiously avoided looking at each other.

  “Jump in any time, Micah. Seriously.”

  He settled in with a scholar’s voice to tell us about the beginning of time and the roles men and women had played through the ages. It was enough to quickly put anyone into a coma or, in our cases, assure that tempers were defused by a generous dose of sheer boredom. He hit upon the original decent of the Sons of Seth, the first Nephilim, and their desire to have sex with and impregnate human women. When Yahweh cast them out, they went with the intent to live immortal lives of lust and gluttony on the bountiful earth. Children with remarkable talents were born and magic was released on the Earth, thus creating the first supernatural creatures and the mythologies that went with them. And as the Sons of Seth settled in to rule the Earth, they moved to different nations and undiscovered lands, thereby creating the different pantheons of religion around the world.

  But in their arrogance and plans to conquer, they discounted the fact that Yahweh always created balance. He called to him the demon Paimon, one of Lucifer’s kings of Sheol, and struck a bargain with him. Paimon would create a band of six demons, a hybrid lesser demon called Dominae, that would be as attractive as the Nephilim, as powerful as a seventh-level demon, as volatile as a fifth-level demon, and as lustful as a second-level demon. These Dominae would police the Sons of Seth, these first Nephilim, and ensure they didn’t grow too strong or too arrogant in their time on earth. In exchange, Yahweh opened up a plane of existence between the physical and the divine. The first Nephilim and their children could exist there, safe from the Dominae. Those cast out after would not have that luxury.

  Paimon accepted and asked for six weeks, six days and six hours to create his six Dominae. It was agreed, and Yahweh called the Nephilim together to explain that they would be barred from Shamayim. Each would receive one opportunity for forgiveness. This heavenly act, or miracle, would be known as the Act of Glory. All Acts were created for a single, just and unselfish use.

  Yahweh explained about the lesser Dominae that would patrol to keep the Nephilim from growing too powerful, for the earth was to be ruled by men for this time. If the Nephilim failed to adhere to the rules, the Dominae would hunt down the offending fallen angel and use whatever powers were necessary to capture that Nephilim’s spirit. Once captured, the Nephilim’s spirit would be tied to the Dominae as a wraith, forced to act against his will. He would then belong to Sheol forever.

  “When the Sons of Seth were returned to Earth, they began to gather followers, elevating themselves to the status of regional gods. These are the gods of the different pantheons around the world. These pantheons are comprised of the surviving Nephilim. Their children, the demi-gods, rule and run and play as well.”

  Micah paused, then snapped his fingers once. We all jerked and looked around as if we were coming out of a trance.

  “Tell me I’ll remember what I did,” I mumbled, pressing on my eyes hard enough to see sunbursts.

  “If you’re referring to the point where you clucked like a chicken…” Hellion said, clearly teasing me.

  “You clearly prefer sheep,” I teased back. Then I froze. I looked over at Bahlin, but he didn’t seem disturbed by the joke at all.

  “It’s fine, love,” Hellion whispered. “Drinks anyone?” he asked, standing and moving to the sideboard. “It’s early, but the day promises to need alcohol.”

  “Clearly,” Bahlin said, moving to take glass of white wine from the magus and
pass one over to me as well.

  “Micah?”

  “Thank you, no. The story isn’t quite done so please, reclaim your seats. I’d like to tell this once.” Everyone sat, sipping and waiting. Finally turning away from the window, Micah moved back to the same chair he’d vacated earlier and sank down.

  “I have been watching over and revealing the next steps of mortals’ paths for a thousand upon a thousand years. I am the Angel of the Divine Plan, meaning I see either the path a life is supposed to take, or I divine the path and carve the way ahead of someone. I will not tell you why I was cast out, but I was here on this plane when Sachiel failed you, Hellion. I felt his guilt, his sickness and his self-centered fear, and it lit him up like a beacon to the Dominae. You see, while the demon, Paimon, selected his six, he also created safe guards that would guarantee his demons the opportunity to gather Nephilim. A type of signal is emitted when one of the fallen becomes truly weary of body or feels immeasurable joy. We light up like a beacon when experiencing either extreme emotion. The Dominae see that light and track it straight to the Nephilim.”

  The men were now all unconsciously sitting on the edges of their seats, enthralled with the timeless story of good versus evil. Micah paused, clearly uncomfortable with what came next.

  Wasn’t every story written this way? I was contemplating literary failures I had encountered when Micah snapped his fingers in front of my face. “You need to hear this.” Shoving out of his chair, he paced the room, nodding at Hellion as he passed. “Please, ask that again.”

  Hellion cleared his throat before asking, “What happens to the Nephilim who are captured by the Dominae? Are they sent to Sheol?”

  Micah was pale but hanging in there. “No. When the Dominae comes to kill the Nephilim, the Nephilim is either tricked into using his one Act of Glory or has just used it and is preparing to Ascend. Those who are tricked are encouraged to try to save themselves, but that is not how the Act was meant to be used. Recall, it was to essentially perform one miracle, though the true meaning of that word has died… Sorry, it was to perform one miracle for selfless reasons for the betterment of man or mankind. It wasn’t meant to allow us to save ourselves from some tragic personal event. And like I said, once the Act of Glory is spent, we’re utterly defenseless. This is called the Taking.

  “In the Taking, the Dominae binds the Nephilim’s spirit to himself and the spirit becomes a wraith, always circling, always there, even if you don’t see it. It waits to do the very thing our nature was not programmed to do, to kill indiscriminately and at the whim of another.

  “The Taking has occurred many times over the millennia. This is what killed the majority of the older pantheons and their children—greed, lust, selfishness. They suffered the Taking after coming to Earth and wasting their one chance at redemption.” Micah stopped and sank to the floor under the window. Desperation surrounded him. It felt so cosmically wrong.

  I raised my hand, and everyone turned toward me. Micah acknowledged me with a nod, and I thought for a second or two before I spoke. “I get the concept, and I know that Agares was here yesterday with the intent of killing you. You survived through our intervention, but you didn’t use your Act of Glory.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “Why?”

  “Do you want that answered with all these men present?”

  “Sure. They’re my friends.” I looked at Hellion. “And more than.”

  Bahlin grunted, and I gave him the best go-to-hell look ever conjured.

  “I have divined your path and it is a difficult one, Madeleine Niteclif. You are the last Niteclif, now rendered immortal. However, you may still be ended. If that happens, and there is no blooded Justice Keeper to take your place, chaos will reign. It will bleed from the paranormal world into that of the mundane.”

  I nodded, familiar with this part of the prophecy. I wanted to tell him to hurry up. Looking back, I should have begged him to slow down.

  “With the Dominae gaining strength and gathering more and more of the spirits of the Nephilim as their wraiths and personal assassins, should chaos take over, Hell will break through its restricted planes of existence and evil will rule the Earth.

  “Your path is clear though fraught with difficult choices and alternate endings.”

  I stood and faced him. “With no disrespect intended, I’ve been through hell since I got here. I’ve been shot, stabbed, beaten, actually killed and cursed, and that was all before I got my second paycheck. You can drop it on me because I do better with the ‘get it out there’ method. The build-up scares me.”

  “As it should,” Micah acknowledged.

  “Look, get it over with or I go prepare for the return of Asswipe, or whatever his name is, and his buddies because I’ve got a personal score to settle with him.” It was a tough speech full of false bravado and a lot of hand waving, but it got the job done.

  “Your wish, my command.” Micah drew himself up to his full height and closed his eyes. “Madeleine Niteclif is the One True Niteclif, evidenced by her Evolution. As such—”

  A thunderous boom rumbled up the stairs. Everyone scrambled to their feet and rushed the door. Hellion’s voice in the chaos stopped us. “Bahlin, stay with Maddy. If necessary, take to the air and get her away. You, Micah, are coming with me.”

  The fallen angel gave a curt nod and darted through the door after Hellion.

  The knots in my stomach were heavy. Cloying fear saturated the air. I wasn’t scared for me but for Hellion. The last time he’d commanded me to stay while he fought, Bahlin had shot him and he’d nearly died. I didn’t want to let him go.

  Voices thundered around the foyer and I could hear the intermingling of magics as they crashed one into another, the sound like lightning hitting stone. I thought I was going to be sick.

  Bahlin took my hand.

  I grasped his like the lifeline it was. “I can’t stand this.”

  “Do you want to leave?”

  “Hell no! I want you to go down there with me to fight! I don’t have a weapon, but the foyer is just big enough to contain you if you shift. If he needs you…”

  Bahlin reached into his boot and pulled out a familiar dagger that I’d used on numerous occasions, handing it to me hilt first. Its familiar weight was a comfort. “I’m surprised you don’t have one of your own. Keep that one until you’re done with it.”

  “I—”

  “Keep it. Let’s go.” He tightened his grip on my hand and led me out the door. We were plastered to the wall and I moved behind him as silent and unshakable as a shadow. He looked back over his shoulder and hissed, “You do whatever the hell I tell you to do, Maddy.” It was a statement, not a request.

  I nodded, unwilling to admit I’d throw myself into the fray if it would make a difference.

  “Stay one step behind me and mirror my steps.” He let go my hand and crept forward, two steps at a time. My shorter legs had to hit every step just to keep my balance.

  I’d been so focused on just keeping up with him that I accidentally crashed into him when he stopped. “Sorry!” I hissed, motioning him forward. Four steps to the turn where we could see the foyer.

  The sounds of fighting were ferocious. Bahlin turned to speak to me, his eyes dark blue one minute and icy the next. “I’m going around the corner and you’re staying here. Don’t argue,” he snarled when I opened my mouth to do just that. “I’ll call for you if you can help, but I’ll not be distracted and have you getting someone killed just because we didn’t properly arm you. Stay. Put.”

  I nodded, furious to be left behind as the weak link again. I’d about had enough of that. I briefly considered going back to the room to retrieve the gun I’d started my training with—another Colt 1911—from my bedside table, but it would take too long. Instead, I gripped the dagger and eased out just a bit.

  Bahlin had taken on a hybrid form of his dragon that I’d never seen, one that involved claws, a mixture of skin and scales, lumps where wings and a tail
would be, talons and a snout. He’d also grown to somewhere around eight feet tall and stood with Hellion and his staff against the Dominae, Agares.

  I could tell Hellion was in control of the situation, but what I couldn’t see, anywhere, was Micah. My eyes scanned the chaos and made little sense of what I saw until I found him crouched near his bedroom door, well away from the fight and clearly alarmed at being without a weapon. I watched as Hellion struggled with Agares and decided I needed to get to Micah, just in case. I sprinted across the foyer.

  Bahlin saw me, but he couldn’t call out his disapproval without interrupting Hellion’s concentration. Instead, he glared and flipped me off then turned back to the fight.

  “Are you okay?” Exertion paired with adrenaline had made my breath come short.

  “I am, though I must admit it’s difficult not to flee.” I had my back partially turned to the fight so it was Micah’s startled eyes that alerted me to the problem. “Oh dear God,” he whispered. “The wraiths.”

  I whipped around and saw a ghostly haze materializing around Agares. The specters weren’t cohesive, but neither were they single entities. Fearfully fascinated, I watched as Agares coaxed them forth with firm affection.

  Micah grabbed my arm. “We need to go, Maddy. Now.”

  I wrenched myself free of his grasp. “I have to warn Hellion and his people first.” I took three large steps first and screamed out to Bahlin, “Tell him that he has to dematerialize and take you with him. You’ve all got to get out of here.”

  Micah grabbed me again and, in a flash of light, we were gone.

  Chapter Seven

  It was entirely different than traveling with Hellion. Micah just willed us somewhere and we were there. There was no sense of time and space, no disorientation, no anything. I had been in Hellion’s foyer, now I was in someone’s…apartment? House? Condo?

  Micah paced, running his fingers through his hair as he worked the stalk like he was on a runway in Milan. He muttered to himself in an Arabic language. Hebrew, maybe? Without warning, he dropped to his knees and wailed. He was the epitome of despair as he held his hands to the sky and pled with the heavens. His answer was silence. Micah dropped his hands to his knees and folded in on himself. Anguish rolled off of him like a heated mirage.