Darkest Heart

by Juliette Cross

  “Ain’t nothing left to fix in there. Hey, what’s up with this patch?”

  Her catlike eyes flared bright, and she nearly smiled again. With a swift move, she was up and across the room on my right side, moving out of my periphery. “Keep looking straight ahead.”

  I did till I couldn’t see her anymore, though I heard her lift and throw something. Suddenly, that tingling sensation sparked to a sting. I snatched the object that had been hurdled at my head before it hit me, wrapping my fingers around cold steel. I looked down at the wrench in my hand.

  She returned with a satisfied grin on her face. “The patch looks like a regular leather patch, but I’ve enhanced it with threadlike sensors that detect movement. That way, if any asshole tries to attack you from your blind side, you’ll be ready for him.”

  “Hell, Bone. I was in love with you already. Now you had to go and do this?”

  She waved me off as if her serious skills meant nothing and pointed at the boxes in my hand. “Two cartridges of ether ammo for a .44 Magnum, Smith and Wesson.”

  “You’re sexy as hell when you talk ammo and guns.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Oh, I’ve got something else I thought you might like.”

  She disappeared down an aisle behind me and returned with a rectangular black box, opening it to reveal four slender daggers, their size easy for throwing but hefty enough for one-on-one combat. Bone knew me so well.

  “They’re laced with ether ammo.”

  “You little minx. You are trying to seduce me.”

  “I’ve got a belt that has hidden interior sheaths, for easy access and hidden concealment.”

  Closing the box and setting the daggers on top, I reached for my ammo pack and pulled out the pouch Cooper had just given me.

  “How much do I owe you, beautiful?”

  “The usual. Four drakuls for the ammo. The daggers are a gift.”

  “A gift? And the patch?”

  Bone didn’t give gifts.

  She shrugged. “Just thinking you may need a little something more out there.”

  “Oh, yeah? Why’s that?”

  “Bellock is looking for you.”

  I scoffed. “What does that Neanderthal want with me?”

  I already had an inkling. Since his former master was killed on the night of the Blood Moon when the war began, he’d surely found another. Hard to believe it had only been a few months since that night. The ancient prophecy dragged the armies out of hell to confront those of heaven on the rolling fields of Dartmoor. In a clash of thousands—red-eyed demons, sword-wielding angels, black-scaled spawn, and multi-clawed beasts—descending on one another and ripping a hole in both worlds. The gates opened wide, creating a hell of earth where battle-and-blood or run-and-hide were the only two options for every creature left alive.

  “If I had to guess, I’d say he wants to send you to Erebus.”

  Erebus. The deepest pit of Hell where the truly damned go and never return. Well, almost never. That demon hunter Jude did. But he had help.

  “Do I look like an angel to you?”

  Bellock was an Angelus Retonsor—angel clipper. They hunted angels down and cut their wings, smudging out their power of Light.

  “No.” She laughed. “You do not look like an angel.”

  I handed over the four drakuls—silver medallions laced with otherworld power and the only currency used since the world went to shit. They were stamped with a roaring dragon on one side and a falling angel on the other. Paper money was a human invention that was meaningless to demonic and heavenly hosts. Drakuls invigorated any otherworlder with strength he or she may have lost in battle. No one knew who had sacrificed their own power to create this apocalyptic currency. No one cared. But everyone wanted it. Then I remembered and tossed over another drakul.

  “Can you add in a pack of brimstone?”

  “Sure.”

  I packed away my ammo and the new set of daggers and the pack of brimstone when she tossed them to me. They weren’t regular cigarettes. They heightened a demon’s awareness and instincts, with a subtle tug toward the sensual senses as well. It helped someone like me, who should never let his guard down. I headed for the door.

  “Dommiel.”

  I shouldered my pack at the entrance with a glance back. “Yeah.”

  “Take care of yourself.”

  “Don’t worry about me, beautiful. I’ll be back so you can doctor me up again.”

  With a wink, I headed back through the underground maze to the surface. As soon as I stepped out into the alley, an otherworldly pull wrenched my gut. I hadn’t felt that sensation in a while. Not since before the night of the Blood Moon when this whole shit-show began.

  Genevieve called to me. Our blood vow meant I had to answer. The truth was, she was probably the only creature on this godforsaken planet I felt any sense of loyalty to.

  “I’m coming, pretty Vessel.”

  I sifted out of London, following the beacon to her.

  Chapter Two

  Anya

  The gusting wind swept over the snowy moor and ruffled the wings at my back, whipping strands of long hair across my face. The human world always felt tumultuous and heavy. Another gray dawn stretched across the rolling hills. So different from the glorious stream of color I was accustomed to seeing. In Elysium, my celestial home in the heavenly realm, there is always light. Here, the humans suffered under the constant gloom of turmoil and the tyrannical rule of one horde of demons or another.

  This place, Dartmoor, would’ve been beautiful to see with the golden light of the sun rolling over the snow-swept hills. But the sun never shone anymore. The heavens constantly dark and pressing.

  “He probably won’t show.”

  Jude, the first of the Dominus Daemonum—master of demons—stood with feet planted apart, arms crossed, scowling. Jude and the hunters like him were created by the Archangel Uriel. He had defied his Archangel’s Creed to remain outside of human interference to remake the nearly damned into his hunters. Jude, like the other hunters, was seeking atonement through service to Uriel to battle the demons on earth.

  While the other archangels had remained in Elysium, amassing their armies and planning for the Great War between heaven and hell—now in full swing on earth—Uriel had been down here for centuries, attempting to protect the vulnerable humans. In doing so, he had saved many lives, many souls. One of them was Jude’s wife, Genevieve—the Vessel who holds the power to crush any demonic host within range. Already she’d gained the nickname among demonkind—the Destroyer. Since the battle on Dartmoor, she had gained her full powers to obliterate underworld creatures with a single command. Having wiped from existence three of the seven demon princes thus far, she’d earned the title along with a healthy dose of fear among them. Most angels and demon hunters held the power to expel demons back to the underworld, but not wipe from existence. Genevieve was a key player in turning the tide for our side. And though powerful, she was only one person. This war would not soon be over.

  “He will show,” said Genevieve next to him as she twirled a raven’s feather between her fingertips.

  We needed him to show. I rubbed my neck where the wound I’d suffered a week ago still burned under the skin. Though it had healed, revealing to no one that a demon’s essence simmered beneath the surface of my skin, his dark presence whispered to me. Not in words, but in an age-old language that needed none. A primitive reminder that some things can’t be explained in simple terms. You just felt the darkness and knew what evil was. He hadn’t bitten me hard enough to drink my blood. That would’ve been disastrous, since then he’d be able to track me. But the danger was real, the essence sinking into my system, winding toward my heart.

  We needed this demon to help me find Uriel. He could remove the essence from inside me and would be the only archangel I knew willing to do so. Others might think me already too infected and mark me a leper. Archangels were selfish creatures, covetous of their powers. To remove this essence wou
ld require an archangel to give up some of his or her own power. I knew no one who would sacrifice their power for a mere foot soldier like me while war threatened their existence daily. Except Uriel. He wouldn’t give up on me, no matter how far this essence embedded.

  Genevieve’s white hawk chirped, bringing me back to the present. The bird sat atop her shoulder, bobbing its head at her black feather as if to snatch it away. Genevieve had summoned the demon Dommiel with a blow on the plume. She had sealed a blood vow with a demon, essentially promising to forever come to his aid if he should need it, and he would have done the same for her. A blood vow was reciprocal and unbreakable, and I’d never heard of a bond between a heavenly host and a demonic one.

  Genevieve had assured me Dommiel had come to her assistance at a time when it mattered most. And though Dommiel was indeed a dark demon, if he would give them his word to help find Uriel, he would keep it. That would have to be enough for me. I was running out of options.

  The air grew tight with energy as an otherworld being drew near, sifting from the Void. With a crackling whip, a man appeared at the foot of the boulder near Jude and Genevieve. No, not a man, but most certainly a demon.

  Bloodied shirt, frayed jeans, days-old scruff, and dark hair in disarray, this was not what I was expecting. He wore a black patch over his right eye, a nasty scar extending down his cheek on that side, and a high-tech robotic arm on his left. With a leather bag tossed over one shoulder, he scanned the area and the three of us. His gaze snagged on me. A jolt of something unfamiliar pinned me still. He had the sort of gaze that warned the world to be careful, that he knew dark and dangerous things. With a swift but intimate perusal of my body, he shifted his attention back to Genevieve. I nearly sighed in relief, his heavy stare having tightened my stomach into knots.

  He blew out a heavy sigh. “Fuck, Genevieve. Must you always call me with him in tow?”

  The demon apparently didn’t like Jude, but from the looks of it, the feeling was mutual.

  Genevieve smiled. She truly cared for this lost soul. Curious.

  “You look different.” She tilted her head quizzically. “No more piercings or Armani shirts?”

  “Trying to blend in. I was going for motorcycle gang murderer or rockstar reject.” He opened his arms. “Do I look normal?”

  Genevieve belted out a throaty laugh. “You could never be normal.”

  “Thank fuck for that.”

  Jude kept close to Genevieve, his scowl heavy and set on Dommiel. Jude was doubly protective these days, but for good reason. As Genevieve was just beginning her second trimester, her small bump would grow quickly in the next months and tell the world she held the hunter’s child in her womb. She would be more vulnerable than ever. But Jude would ensure her safety, and the world would have to fend for herself when the Destroyer left the battlefields for a time.

  Though no one had mentioned the child to me, I’d sensed the life growing within her on our first meeting. Wherever there is life, I can sense the heartbeat, no matter how small. When I was a guardian angel, I sought to help orphans and abandoned children. And though I’d left my role as guardian to fight for humankind among the legion armies, my heart still warmed anytime a child was near.

  Jude stepped toward the demon, his expression hard. “We need your help.”

  A sable raven swooped out of nowhere and landed on a lone tree in the near distance, seeming to watch us. Jude glanced over his shoulder, noting the creature of some apparent supernatural origin, but didn’t seem ruffled by his presence. I glanced at the black feather in Genevieve’s hand, making the connection to Dommiel.

  He scoffed. “Of course you do.” He swiveled his attention to Genevieve, where his loyalty obviously lay. “What’s the problem?”

  Her white hawk, Mira, lifted off into the sky, apparently agitated with a demon so close. I didn’t blame her. He made me uneasy already, but for different reasons. Yes, he was definitely a fallen creature of the underworld, but his rough, take-me-or-leave-me appearance and attitude drew me in. I was used to the perfection of my fellow warriors and of the archangels, their lofty ideals and principles creating a wall between humanity and their own superiority. The demon standing before me made no excuses for who or what he was, and he came to Genevieve’s summons without question. This kind of loyalty was rare—and precious—in this godforsaken world. And it undeniably made me want to step closer, to discover why he was different.

  Genevieve continued. “We need you to help us find the Archangel Uriel. He went missing weeks ago. Anya here”—she gestured to me—“tracked him to his last contact in Florence. But that’s where our trail ends.”

  “How do you know he didn’t just take a siesta?”

  “Uriel would not have left us for any reason,” I said, remaining on the periphery of their circle. “Besides, I searched Elysium as well. He’s not there.”

  The demon examined me with his one good eye. A shiver of heat swept up my spine, settling between my shoulder blades. I partly opened and closed my wings in nervous agitation.

  “Why is she here?” he asked Genevieve.

  “Dommiel, this is Anya. We ask that you allow her to accompany you in your search. She can—”

  “Hell no,” he cut her off. “I work alone. And that’s only if I decide to help you.”

  I bristled. “I can handle myself among your kind.”

  My hand rested on the hilt of the dagger sheathed at my waist. He had no idea how many hundreds of demons I’d destroyed and expelled back to hell since this war began. Not just lower demons and filthy spawn, but high demons as well. Those of the upper echelon like him. I gripped my hilt tighter, unable to stop the reflex in the company of a dangerous underworlder.

  He arched one brow. “Oh.” His wide mouth slipped up into a lopsided grin. “I’ll bet you can, baby.”

  I narrowed my gaze and pressed my lips together, pretending the throaty suggestion in his voice hadn’t catapulted my heartbeat faster.

  “What’s your price?” asked Jude, gruff and growling. He didn’t appear to have fond feelings for this demon, but apparently he knew it was necessary. “What territory do you have your eyes on now?”

  Dommiel’s penetrating gaze finally left me. He chuckled. “I don’t want territory. Fuck all that.”

  “Then what would tempt you to take the offer?” asked Genevieve.

  His voice softened when he spoke to her. “Coin. Lots of it.”

  “Set your price,” added Genevieve. “And we’ll make it happen. But the payment is for you to track where Uriel is being held. If it’s in the underworld or here on earth, we need an exact location and details of who is holding him and how.”

  “And how do you know for certain that he’s being held against his will?”

  I stepped closer, my wings sliding open at the sudden burst of ire flaring through my body. Though angry, my voice remained steady when I said, “Uriel would never simply abandon his mission. He is honest and just, unlike your brethren.”

  Unruffled, the demon shrugged. “He could be dead.”

  “No, he couldn’t,” I countered, notching my chin higher when his attention swiveled to me. “We all know archangels are extremely difficult to kill. And when they die, we would all sense the absence.”

  Angels and humans whose hearts were good found peace in the afterlife in the House of Souls. When an angel was severed from his mortal body, there would be a distinct void of his or her aura in this realm.

  “He is alive.”

  The demon examined me. A keen sense of foreboding zinged to my bones when he did so. Not simply because the thought of spending days or weeks alone with him stirred emotions I’d best not think about, but because he might not help me if he found out why I needed to find Uriel so badly. So quickly. Rolling my right shoulder, a twinge of pain throbbed from my shoulder to the base of my throat. A reminder that time was ticking.

  Though Dommiel’s appearance was unkempt and haggard at best, this being wielded great power. A
n aura of potent energy encircled him, reminding anyone who stepped too close that he was undoubtedly a demon of the highest order. And he could do great damage to his enemies. I would not underestimate him. I had a feeling he could do damage to me—in many ways—if I let my guard fall.

  “What was his mission, angel?” he asked me in a cool tone. He was angry. Certainly not the best first impression.

  “He was tracking horde movements in central and eastern Europe, and gathering intel for infiltration.”

  Dommiel huffed out a frosty breath. “Bloody hell. Extremely hostile, demon-infested territory. Uriel is probably somewhere you’ll never find him.”

  I winced. His gaze remained on me, studying.

  “Dommiel,” said Genevieve, soft and imploring, “we must retrieve him. Surely you understand his importance to us. He isn’t just any angel. He’s Uriel.”

  “He is our maker,” added Jude. “He did not abandon us when everyone else did. We will not abandon him, no matter where he is or who has him. We need his specific location, something only another demon could acquire for us.”

  The demon crossed his arms and considered. Silence prevailed but for the ghostly whistle of wind across the frosty moor.

  “Fifty pounds of drakuls.”

  “Fifty fucking pounds!” Jude bellowed.

  “Done,” said Genevieve, cutting the air with her hand to stop Jude from further protest.

  Dommiel nodded to her. “Then I’ll find your archangel.”

  “And,” she added, “you’ll bring Anya with you.”

  He rolled his eyes. “It won’t look good for me to have a blue-winged angel in tow in the demon dens where I’ll be going.” He looked me up and down again. “I’m already targeted as a traitor.”

  It wasn’t uncommon for angels and demons to be seen cavorting together nowadays, but Dommiel was an outcast of his kind according to Genevieve. He was right that being seen with me could cause problems. But this mission required allies on both sides if we were going to find Uriel.