I pretended to think about it for a minute. “Um…nope. I think it’s finally time I do what I was sucked into this supernatural life to do. I’m going to kill the Fallen prick who raped my mother.”
“It won’t free you,” he said. “You are forever changed, forever more angel than human. Ending me will not restore you to the life you once knew.”
I shrugged. “I know. But it’ll feel good to send your manipulating, egotistical, self-important butt back to the divine ether. In other words, I’m about to punch your restart button, asshole.”
For the first time, facing the creature I’d hunted for more than two years, nothing held me back. My power swelled inside me, the flutter of wings rustled at the back of my mind, and I advanced at the speed of thought. Jukar was ready.
Like a crack of thunder our blades met, the impact vibrating down my arms, jolting through my chest. I couldn’t spare a second to think about it. Jukar shifted, swinging hard. I blocked, stumbling back with the pounding strike of his sword.
He was too strong, too fast, even with angelic DNA coursing through my veins. I wasn’t a hundred percent. A piece of me was missing. I’d never win this fight without my sword, and he knew it. He’d led me as far from it as he could before I caught up with him. If I went to get it back from Abram, Jukar would be gone. I couldn’t let him go. Not this time.
I swung hard, but the archangel blocked easily. The crack and zing of our swords echoed off the tall ceiling, vibrating the stained glass. Sparks showered off our blades, singeing the old wooden pews, each strike sapping my strength a little more.
Liam’s sword was made to banish the Fallen, but Jukar was no average Fallen. I needed something more powerful. I needed my sword. I needed the sword of an angel. And just like that, I knew how to defeat him. Jukar had showed me himself.
We moved faster than the human eye could track, a blur of body parts so quick we’d become nearly invisible, only a rush of destructive wind. I had less than a heartbeat to succeed or fail—one try. I wouldn’t get a second chance.
Quicker than the beat of a hummingbird’s wing I spun toward him, his outstretched blade slicing my back. Pain jolted at the edge of my mind, but I moved so fast my brain didn’t have time to process sensation.
In the next fraction of an instant, we were chest to chest, and I pushed just enough to rock his balance. Before he could recover I lashed out with Liam’s sword, catching my father at the wrist. His hand flew from his wrist tumbling through the air, still gripping his sword, and I moved to catch it.
The meaty stump landed in my palm with a thud, and I had a split second to register the expression of genuine surprise on the fallen angel’s face before I sliced the blade of his sword through his neck.
Finally, my father’s mystified expression froze. He blinked, then slowly his head lolled back, falling from his neck. Thick mist billowed over the rim of the wound, and light as bright as the sun burst out of him, illuminating the room. I shielded my eyes as the light spread over his body, consuming him from the inside out.
All at once, the light flashed brighter before sucking back to the center like the pull of a black hole. The force of his return to the ether drew on the space around him so hard the wind of it tugged at my hair and clothes.
And then it stopped. It was over, the air settling. My power pulsed through my veins, angelic DNA humming under my skin. I was still something more than human. I could feel it.
Jukar was dead, but nothing—nothing—had changed. In my head I’d known it was too late to ever be normal again, but in my heart…
I looked at Jukar’s hand and sword, still real and solid in my grip. My fingers opened and it rolled from my palm, vanishing to mist before it hit the ground. I didn’t know how Jukar had managed to keep the hands and swords of all those angels he’d killed from vanishing with their bodies, and I had no desire to try to figure it out.
“This is never going to be over for me.” My voice sounded distant to my ears, my body numb.
The seraphim believed I was a traitor, and the Fallen knew I was. I was more alone than ever before, and the only thing that could change that fact was me.
I reached for Liam’s sword where I’d dropped it, but just as my fingers brushed the hilt, the building shook under my feet. An earthquake? In Pittsburgh? I glanced up at the stained glass windows rattling in their frames and then to the big chandeliers swaying from the rafters.
A flash of lightning lit the room, and a clap of thunder rumbled so loud I could feel it in my chest. The walls of the chapel shook, raining dust down on the tiled floor.
“That’s not an earthquake.” I grabbed Liam’s sword and headed for the door.
Outside the sky had turned black, storm clouds rolling like an angry sea. Rain hammered the Earth, and down the hill from the church, Abram used my sword to carve a line almost the length of the lawn in the ground. At the opposite end where he’d started, something clawed its way up. Long fingered hands, nails jagged and sharp, scraped at the Earth, pulling a horned, bull-headed demon free from the abyss.
Within seconds the first was free while a dozen more made the same escape all the way down the line Abram had carved. Without the power of a Fallen to shape their bodies, the demons came out in the form the brimstone left them. Most of them looked like the devil I’d learned about in Sunday school, skin red and leathery, their feet big cloven hooves. A few were only partially deformed, stuck between the beautiful creatures they’d been and the devils they would eventually become the longer they stayed.
I stood there on the walkway between the cathedral and chapel, staring transfixed as more and more demons clawed free. Would Eli be like that? Had he been changed to a devil thing, too? Would I even recognize him? Would he know me? A mix of terror and anticipation froze the air in my lungs. I couldn’t move.
Before more than twenty demons had clawed their way out of the abyss, the seraphim began to arrive, hacking off heads, dispatching one after another back to the divine ether. But with each arriving seraphim another zombie Fallen popped in to battle. All of Abram’s zombie army had sprung into action, protecting the demons as if they were newly born from the Earth—slow, confused, and vulnerable.
Soon enough those fresh demons joined the fight, clawing at seraphim with nails like jagged glass, brimstone rolling off them in clouds of yellowish stench. Despite the pummeling rain, the air reeked of rotten eggs, and a thick blanket of putrid mist thickened along the grass, billowing up from the crack in the ground.
“You really just going to stand there and let this happen?”
I jumped at the sound of Dan’s voice, turning to see him standing beside me. I shook my head. “What?”
“Even if he comes up through that opening, he’s not going to be the same Eli that went in.” Dan stayed light on his feet, glancing behind and around him, ready for any possible attack. “You’ve got no reason to fight for the Fallen now. He’s gone. It’s time to come fight for the good guys again. We have to close the hole in the abyss.”
I looked back to the battlefield, the angels and demons little more than silhouettes in the thickening mist. Sparks lit like camera flashes each time swords collided, and thunder shook the ground. The Fallen shambled forward, fighting despite injuries, fighting under the control of Abram.
“Good guys is a subjective term, Dan,” I said, scanning the field for my half brother. He was gone. “The abyss is open because the good guys wanted it open. And chances are it’ll stay open until they want it closed. If you’re worried about it, talk to Michael. I’ve got actual bad guys to go after.”
I turned my back on Dan, opening my mind, reaching out to Abram. “Where are you?”
My sixth sense felt Dan leave, and the emptiness that replaced his presence was cold and endless. Another bridge burned. I couldn’t worry about it.
Abram didn’t answer, and when I touched the pathway our minds had followed to each other before, it was dark and silent. Like he’d shut a door on his end. But Jukar
had made sure I was strong enough in every way to protect the children of his children, the new species of mankind. So I was strong enough to push down any door Abram erected.
Through my half brother’s eyes I gazed down at the battlefield far below. I turned my own eyes upward, spotting the small balcony at the top of the cathedral, over five hundred feet up. I knew when I saw it, that’s where he was. He wasn’t alone.
“Go fight, Emma.” His voice hummed through my mind. “It’s what you were made for.”
I turned and walked down the hill toward the fray. I’d gone at least five steps before it dawned on me where I was going. I didn’t want to go toward the fighting. I wanted to get to Abram.
I’d stopped him from the public death and resurrection Jukar had planned, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still a threat. And despite whatever sin the Fallen and demons had committed, they didn’t deserve to be his slave army. They deserved the ability to make their own decision whether to fight or not.
So why the hell was I walking toward the battlefield? I tried to turn back, but my body wouldn’t obey. Abram was able to compel me, too? I was the child of a fallen angel, and that ring gave the bearer power over the dominion of the Fallen. I looked back to the fighting and realized in one horrifying instant that I wasn’t the only nephilim being compelled.
Dan swung his sword hard, aiming for Ham’s, his magister’s, neck. Ham defended, though the pain of betrayal was etched on his face. My gaze moved from them to another illorum battling his magister and another, then another. It seemed that if they came near enough to the fight, Abram’s compulsion to fight for him took hold.
I had to stop this. I had to stop Abram. But first I had to get out of range. My power swelled fast inside me, wings fluttered, and as quickly as the thought entered my mind, I stood on the overlook on Mount Washington.
It wasn’t until I opened my eyes on the cityscape below that I was sure the compulsion to join the battle was gone. The suburb of Oakland, home of the University of Pittsburgh, was far enough away I could barely make it out in the distance. But the thick storm clouds that hovered over the Cathedral helped pinpoint the spot.
The storm was stagnant over the area, only a mile or so wide, but the system towered up toward the heavens like a mythical Mount Olympus. I had to get back there, but if I didn’t move quickly enough, Abram would just use that ring to compel me again. Luckily, quick was my thing.
I flexed my fingers around the hilt of Liam’s sword, shoring my resolve. The illorum blade didn’t complete me like my own sword, but it would have to do. I opened my mind to that special part of me that was no longer human and called my power. With a quick thought, the sound of wings brushed my ears, and I stood in the pouring rain in front of a stunned Abram, some five hundred feet above the ongoing battle below.
My brother’s eyes widened as I reached out like a whip, snagging my sword from his hand. It was all the time I had before I felt the compelling urge to join the fray far below tickle through me. But without my sword, his command was weak enough I could push past it.
I spun, sensing Abram’s Fallen guard advancing on me. This high up, the wind drove cold rain against our skin like tiny spears, making it hard to breathe, hard to see. The stone floor of the balcony lay slick under our feet, but the twenty zombie Fallen were compelled to not let any of it bother them. I didn’t have that luxury. Not that I was complaining.
With a sword in each hand now, I swung my arms in a figure eight across my body, the blades spinning so fast a whirring hum reverberated in front of me. The first two Fallen went down easily enough, but three more stepped up to take their place, and they’d already learned from the others’ mistakes. They surrounded me, attacking at once. I blocked one blade, dodged the next swing, and swung back at the third.
I’d only ever used my power to teleport, leaving my sword fighting abilities to instinct, but now I called up every ounce of my strength, moving so fast the Fallen angels lost track of me.
They swung wild, aiming for the spot I’d been standing an instant before. One by one I blocked their strikes and cut them down. Each death sliced my heart. I’d been one of them, trusted, even loved. Yeah, I’d been undercover, spying on them for Michael, but they hadn’t known that. They’d welcomed me, and now, thanks to my twisted half brother, I had to kill them or let them kill me.
When the last enslaved Fallen exploded in a burst of angelic light that sucked his spirit back to the divine ether, I’d worked up a fairly insurmountable hatred for Abram. A lot of what had happened had been because of me, and a lot had been because of Abram—to make him what he was, to position him to do what Jukar wanted, what Michael wanted.
The difference between me and Abram was that I hadn’t been a willing participant in the archangel’s manipulations. I was finally ready and willing to kill the kid.
I dropped Liam’s sword and shoved my sodden hair from my eyes, noticing for the first time my soaked clothes, the wind chilling me to the bone. I shook it off, my anger keeping me warm, and stalked toward him. “Time to fulfill your destiny, Abram.”
The redheaded college kid raised his hands in surrender, backing up toward the stone railing. A weird half smile turned up the corners of his mouth. “You’re right, sis. But destiny’s a fluid thing, and it’s hard to know what the real end goal is until you reach it.” He glanced over his shoulder then back to me, his smile brightening. “The thing is, I’m not there yet.”
My brother turned and hopped onto the wide railing. I raced toward him, but he jumped off before I could get to him. The railing slammed into my gut, and I looked over the edge in time to see a demon, wings like a giant bat, swoop in and snag Abram by the shoulders. They shot upward, straight into the belly of the storm, and disappeared.
Chapter Twenty-Four
It was as if Abram had created the storm himself, and his absence ended it. The instant the demon flew him away, the rain slowed, and the thick, mountainous cloud thinned, going from black to gray to white. Around me the wind died down, but my teeth still chattered, and goose bumps covered me from head to toe under my wet clothes and hair. Below, the battle shifted. The Fallen, suddenly free of Abram’s compulsion, fought only long enough to win their escape. Some succeeded, many didn’t.
The war still raged, the seraphim unwilling to relinquish their advantage even for one battle. Demons fared worse. I watched the sprawling lawn empty, hundreds upon hundreds of demons compelled to follow Abram wherever he may have gone. They were too weak-willed to resist him. He gave the command to stop fighting and follow him and they did, even if they were in the middle of a fight and dropping their guard meant losing their heads.
I stayed in my perch on the high balcony of the cathedral, unwilling to take a side. I had friends down there—and enemies—on both sides. I wouldn’t choose between them. Slowly the yellow cloud of brimstone dispersed, drifting away to reveal the blackened Earth where Abram had carved an opening into the abyss. I blinked, squeezing my eyes tight for a moment then looking again.
It wasn’t just a line in the Earth, it was an illorum mark. Okay, so it wasn’t exactly an expert rendering. Basically he’d carved a long line with two smaller lines crossing it in an X near one end. But the symbolism was clear. Illorums were keepers of the abyss, our swords were the key. They allowed us to open the gate long enough to banish the Fallen.
And now, thanks to my perverted powers and the sword it produced, that mark was used to rip the gate to the abyss off its virtual hinges. Shit.
“Will you close it?”
I flinched at the sound of Michael’s voice, but I managed to resist the urge to look at him suddenly standing next to me.
“Ask someone who gives a crap to close it.” I watched the few people left on the field shamble away, magisters helping their wounded illorum, seraphim ending the suffering of the few demons left behind, fatally wounded.
“But it was your sword that opened the abyss. Only your sword—only you—can close it.”
&
nbsp; The ground was quiet, no longer bubbling with demons scrapping their way to the surface. “Is it empty?”
Michael exhaled, as though relieved to say, “Yes.”
“That fast?”
He tilted his head. “You better than most know the speed at which a demon can travel. One with the proper motivation is even faster.”
“Right. Wait. The abyss was empty. That means Eli came out, too. Did he survive the battle? Is he with Abram?” I scanned the battlefield, then farther out down the city streets, my heart racing, throat tight.
It made me sick to think of my evil little half brother ordering the once-proud, beautiful angel around like a dog. But would I rather he had been sent back to the divine ether? At least with Abram there was a chance I’d see him again. Would he look the same? Would he remember me?
Michael rolled his shoulder in a shrug. “I made no special note of any of the demons escaping their punishment. If he was in the abyss, he no longer is. Beyond that, I cannot say.”
“Yeah. Thanks.” I turned back to rest my elbows on the stone railing. “Thanks for all your help.”
The Fallen had all either been sent back to the divine ether or escaped the instant they could. I wasn’t sure about the gibborim. I doubted Abram had the power to control them without my sword to boost his strength.
Now that Jukar was gone, had the swords he’d given them, made from a piece of his spirit, vanished with him? Who knew? I didn’t really care. I didn’t care about any of it anymore. It wasn’t my fight anymore. I was done risking my neck to make a difference. I was done risking the people I loved. I’d sacrificed enough.
“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” I stared at the dark opening to the abyss. The ground looked charred, like the heat from hell itself had scorched the dirt and grass. “You wanted Abram to open the abyss. You wanted everyone trapped in there to escape so you could kill them once and for all.”
Hellsbane Hereafter (Entangled Select Otherworld) Page 30