Only One I'll Have (UnHallowed Series Book 4)

by Tmonique Stephens

  Smelling strongly of fish, Daeden appeared by his side dressed in his usual red and black flannel shirt, worn jeans, and muddy boots. He scanned the room and didn’t comment on all the armed UnHallowed present or the equally armed females. “You rang?”

  “Round up the Reapers. Tell them to hunt for Chayyliél and Sophie Charles. Scour the earth. Leave no stone unturned. I will be indebted to the first one who finds them and reports to me.”

  Daeden’s gaze narrowed. “You can ask them yourself.”

  In other words, why wasn’t he? Because the UnHallowed and Reapers did not need to meet. Oil and water wasn’t a good analogy. Gasoline and an open flame came to mind, especially when Reapers challenged his authority with open combat. He didn’t have time for that shit.

  Sammiél stepped into Daeden’s personal space and let his civilized façade slough away. His black skull and flaming eyes reflected in Daeden’s bored gaze. “I gave you an order.”

  A tense beat of silence stretched between the two, then Daeden vanished. The discussion postponed, not over.

  “That’s it! That’s all we're gonna do?” Scarla rounded on Sammiél. Her breath short bursts, her eyes wild, her hands opening and closing into tight fists every few seconds.

  He understood her panic and couldn’t feed into it. “Scarla, I have thousands of Reapers at my command—”

  “What if it’s not enough. What if… Oh… Oh, fuck.” She spun away and doubled over, hyperventilating.

  Gadreel lunged for her, but Sammiél grabbed her up and pulled her into his embrace, then yanked her around to face him and shook her. “Have some faith!” he shouted into her face, not as Sam, a secondary father, but as the Angel of Death. “Chayyliél, he was known as the powerful one for a reason. He is your father. He is also an UnHallowed. Do not bury him yet.”

  “You don’t understand. He’s all I have,” she cried, though her eyes remained dry.

  Her statement was an affront to his senses. And from the startled pain filtering through the link, an affront to all of them.

  “How could you possibly believe that?” Kushiél took her from Sammiél’s arms. He sat her on the sofa and kneeled in front of her.

  Scarla dragged a trembling hand through her hair and shook her head. “The rest of you, you tolerate me. Always have. Better to keep the Halfling close in case we have to put her down. You think I didn’t know. I always knew you all waited for a reason to kill me. All except Chay. He wouldn’t let you do it when he found me. He stopped you when you all tried. He protected me.” She stood and faced them all.

  “You will find him. You will save him. Or so help me God, I will…” Her lips snapped together. She glared holy hell at each one of them as she tapped the gun against her thigh.

  “There may be a way.” Dina’s voice jerked everyone around, and damn, it was a welcome distraction, though Sammiél kept his attention on Scarla. She sat and crossed her legs and folded her hands in her lap, her outburst over. But not forgotten. She was a hair trigger away from exploding.

  “An angel brought us here.”

  What? Dina’s statement spun Sammiél around.

  “That’s not possible,” Ioath spoke first.

  “It is possible and it’s the truth. A warrior angel named Axelle, former guardian to Sophie, brought us from the hospital in a dimensional pocket.

  “Well, where is she?” Bane demanded.

  Amaya moved to Dina’s side. “She swore that was all she could do and then vanished.”

  “Michael must’ve sent her,” said Zedekiél. He’d stopped pacing to listen.

  “If that’s the case, he can do more than send one lone angel,” Daghony spat.

  “He will do more.” The glass shattered in Tahariél’s hand.

  For a price. A price Sammiél wondered if they were all prepared to pay.

  He had to tell them, tell them now and trust them to make their own decisions. It may be the only chance Chayyliél had.

  “UnHallowed.” Nine hard gazes tracked his way. “There is something I must—”

  A charcoal mist gathered in the ceiling. No one moved as the mist coalesced into a Reaper. Hovering over the center of the room, its shroud blanketed the ceiling, dousing all except one light. Scarla leapt from the sofa, her gun cocked and pointed. Kushiél snatched the weapon from her, released the clip, and cleared the chamber, all before she could say a word.

  Sammiél studied the arrival. He knew the identity by the black scythe balanced on its shoulder, the same scythe that tried to take his head. “Speak, Liqis.”

  The shroud shrank, pooled to the hardwood like spilled ink and conformed into a male body. The show was unnecessary, but if he brought good tidings, Sammiél would allow him his moment. Finally, the shroud and all the trappings dissolved revealing the man underneath.

  Scarla gasped. “He’s not what I expected.”

  With the wavy white hair, the hint of a salt and pepper beard, and slim build, Sammiél supposed she had a point. However, Liqis was thousands of years old, as were ninety-five percent of the Reapers.

  Liqis’s gaze shot to Scarla, lingered long enough to cause Gadreel to growl low in his throat—what the hell was that about—then traveled around the room to all in attendance.

  “This isn’t a meet and greet. Spill,” Zedekiél demanded.

  Sammiél couldn’t agree more. “Liqis. Speak.”

  The Reaper bowed his head in deference to Sammiél. “The UnHallowed and female you seek are in the Himalayas—but you and the rest of the UnHallowed cannot get there.”

  Chapter Forty-Two

  The Crossroad Demon blocked the exit, not that they would be using it. Chay sized her up. She didn’t have the Cruor. He couldn’t worry about that now, not when Spaun were heading their way, soon to arrive.

  He’s n-not your l-lover!” Sophie gritted out between chattering teeth.

  “Fine, slave then. Either way, he’ll be servicing my needs. All my needs.” She smiled.

  Sophie scoffed. “N-Needs? What n-needs would that be when you’re not even a real w-woman. The breasts. The curves. P-Peel that away and—”

  “You’d find a putrid, pus-filled sac.” Chay knew. The Crossroad demon couldn’t hide her evil from him.

  A sound came from the mouth of the cave.

  It was now or never. He backed into a corner with Sophie shielded behind him. She gripped his waist, her hands cold slabs, and slumped against him, a sign hypothermia had set in.

  “There’s nowhere for you to go, Chay. If you come quietly and obey my command, I won’t have her killed. I’ll send her back to Michigan, back to her mother, and I’ll give my vow to never harm her again. She will live a long, boring life with nothing to show for it.” She stretched out her hand. “This is my final offer.”

  Spaun swept into the chamber and crowded behind Celine. A few Gergos, Ifirts, and Hazk were mixed into her Demon Army. Was one of them the leader?

  “We need him alive,” an Ifirt said. “Gotta drain him.”

  Celine’s attention split from Chay and landed on the demon to her left. “Why?”

  As they argued back and forth, Chay stretched out his hands to touch the walls on the opposite sides. “Sophie,” he whispered, “It will be okay. Hang on a bit longer.”

  She nodded and murmured something unintelligible. Fuck! She was slipping away.

  The surface of the walls were smooth and covered with a thick layer of ice. He punched through, had no choice. Attention swiveled back to him.

  “What are you doing?” Celine demanded.

  “I think he’s trying to bring down the mountain,” answered one of the demons.

  “Mountain’s too big for him to do that, UnHallowed or archangel,” answered another demon.

  Bringing down the mountain wasn’t his intention. What he planned was much worse, for the demons, and for him.

  “We’re taking him to our leader.” The Gergos took a step toward Chay.

  Celine grabbed his arm and yanked him back. �
�You’re not taking him anywhere. He’s my slave. I’m taking him.”

  While they argued, Chay shoved his fingers into the firmament of the walls. His senses sifted through the many mineral composites that made up the mountain, searching for what he needed. Whether it was naturally occurring or placed there millennia ago for a purpose he’d never know and didn’t care. An inch below the surface, the tips of his fingers burned. He’d found it.

  Now to use it before it killed him.

  He sent a pulse into the wall, turning the brimstone from a solid into a mist. Slowly, he siphoned the pale stone out of the wall, through his skin, and into his body.

  Pain blazed a trail through his system. His knees threatened to buckle. He locked his muscles down and sped up the process. The brimstone mixed with his inky disgrace and Braile’s grace, igniting the former. He burned from the inside out.

  The Crossroad demon huffed and folded her arms, her attention back on Chay. “Enough of this, Chayyliél. We made an agreement and you must live by it.”

  His vocal cords burned, but he forced them to work. “That’s the thing…” He stalled. He needed a bit more time.

  “We’re waiting.” Impatient, she tapped her foot.

  Focus on the pain. Make it your own.

  Fire scorched his insides, lit him up. Power roiled through him, no longer did he try to contain it. Hide from what he was. He owned it. He was the Powerful One for a reason. Because he was the only one who could do this.

  The only one.

  “At the end of the day, when shit’s all said and done, I’m a demon too. And you know how the saying goes, ‘Never trust a demon.’” His skin cracked, split into fragments. A fine black mist streamed out of the cracks, filled the air like a swarm of bees focused on one purpose, slaying the demons in their midst.

  The mist latched onto Spaun skin, causing the flesh to ignite on contact, and then burrowed deep into the tissue beneath. The screams came to him from a far-off place. Outside of his body, yet, at the same instant, inside his body.

  Time slipped away as if threaded through a microscopic keyhole. He couldn’t let that happen, let himself get lost in the moment, turn one second into a lifetime. At least not this moment. Too much counted on him. Sophie counted on him.

  Where was she? He didn’t feel her slumped against him anymore. As he continued to siphon the brimstone out of the mountain and into the demons, he used his senses to search for her. She was still behind him, laying on the cold ground.

  “No!”

  He had to get her out of here. Her life hung in the balance.

  Spaun poured into the cave, an unending river of them. They crawled over their dead and dying comrades, desperate to get to him. He couldn’t stop them and go to her. And even if he could, he couldn’t save her. Not until he finished this.

  Good thing he had a mountain of brimstone at his disposal. He sucked it out of the walls, into his body, and then amplified it with Braile’s grace. A mixture of brackish mist created from his disgrace and the brimstone, and golden celestial essence, poured out of him. Together, they zigzagged through the room, over the ledge, and into the chasm.

  Compelled, Chay followed. With a thought, he swept the bodies out of his way, piled them up like cordwood after a storm. He spotted Celine crawling away. Chunks of her flesh sloughed off in wet, rotted patches. She’d made it to the ledge and weaving, climbed to her feet. Yeah, she had an exemption on many of the weaknesses handicapping demons, brimstone wasn’t one of them.

  She was vulnerable, but she wasn’t dead. That would be remedied because her alive put Sophie in danger. Anything that placed her in danger, he would destroy.

  The Crossroad demon turned and faced him.

  “You think you’ve won. You haven’t won anything. Kiss Sophie goodbye ‘cause she’s dead.”

  “You will never get close enough to her.”

  “You can’t protect her every second of the day. You will slip, and all I need is a second. That’s all I needed to kill Lizette. Malphas loved her and I loved him. So, she had to go. A little bit of poison goes a long way. It was easy with Lizette. Peanut allergy. Some ground peanuts mixed in with her dessert and instant anaphylaxis. Is Sophie allergic to anything? Or will I have to use more traditional methods? Cyanide, anthrax. Maybe a nerve agent. I have a few Russian friends who can help with that.”

  A figure appeared behind her. Partially covered in ice, he could’ve been anyone, anything. But he wasn’t. Chay recognized him right away. And smiled.

  “Did I say something funny?” Celine propped her hand on her hip and cranked her head to the side.

  “Actually, Celine, you said exactly what I needed to hear.”

  She spun. Chay missed the look on her face but he heard her gasp, and say, “Malphas.”

  “Tis I.” He snatched her by the throat, lifted her off her feet. “I always wondered how my Lizette died? A puzzle that tormented me for over a century. But now my torment is over…and yours has just begun.”

  Together, they fell backward, over the ledge.

  Chay followed with a trail of brimstone in his wake.

  ~~~~~

  By a thin thread, Sophie held on to consciousness. She didn’t want to miss a moment of Chay kicking ass. And what an ass-kicking it was. She had a concern about him jumping off the ledge when he had no wings, but didn’t have the energy to scream, What the hell are you doing?

  He’s not hurt. He can’t be hurt. Just like she couldn’t be hurt. Not anymore. The pain from the cold had faded into a drowsy, numbing sensation, which wasn’t unpleasant. She was just gonna take a nap. A short one and then…be fine.

  She blinked once. It seemed to last longer than a fraction of a second. More like five hours. When she forced them open the wall she faced, shifted, and out stepped… Oh damn, what was his name again? Daghony. Oh yeah. And gee, Bane and Riél were next to him. Another blink and Sam, Kush, and Rimmon wavered into view.

  Hey, guys. How you doing?

  Someone picked her up, or maybe she floated.

  “Take her to the house on top of the mountain. Get her warmed up.”

  “What if we can’t?”

  “Then we’ll have to risk taking her through the shadows.”

  “That’ll kill her.”

  “Won’t matter if she’s already dead.”

  I’m not dead, but Chay… Where’s Chay? The conversation happened around her.

  “The rest of us are going after Chay.”

  She wanted to go after Chay.

  “Hey, don’t worry. I got you.”

  She focused on the voice and realized it was Riél. She liked Tahariél. He was always nice to her, and he flew her Mom to the hospital.

  Someone groaned. Another hissed. A third coughed.

  “What the hell is this?”

  “It’s brimstone.”

  “What did Chay do?”

  “He weaponized it.”

  “How the fuck did he do that!”

  “If he hadn’t, we never would’ve been able to zero in on him. We could’ve wandered around the Himalayas for days hunting Chay. It’s brilliant, if you ask me,” Riél said.

  “It’s only brilliant if it doesn’t get him killed,” Kushiél spoke. Though her eyes remained closed, she knew his voice.

  “Tahariél, get Sophie to safety. Kushiél, Daghony, and Rimmon follow me,” Sammiél commanded. “The rest of you, clear the cave before you end up like the Spaun.”

  Air steamed over her, further sending her into a deep freeze. No. No! She didn’t want to leave without Chay.

  “Easy. It’s gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay.” Riél soothed.

  Okay? No. She wasn’t going to be okay, not without Chay.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chay vaulted into the air. In the distance, fading quickly into the afternoon sun, Malphas and the Crossroad Demon. He’d already broken the demon into two pieces, but she wasn’t dead. She couldn’t be that lucky. Malphas wouldn’t be that merciful.

>   Good riddance and thanks for taking her off my hands.

  The Demoni Lord didn’t have the Catch-22 killing a Crossroad demon posed. Since he and his kind now ruled Hell, he could kill any demon without nasty repercussions, like being forced to take her place.

  Where the fuck had he squirreled himself away? It was important, just not now, not until Sophie was safe.

  A brutal wind whipped through the canyon and snatched his attention back. He didn’t plummet, not immediately. No wings meant he couldn’t fly. That didn’t mean he couldn’t hover as he continued to draw brimstone out, until it was a dense cloud, filtering out the sunlight, transforming the afternoon into evening. The mountain rumbled in protest, threatening a landslide. He wanted that, to bring the entire thing down, taking all the Spaun clinging to the ice-covered slopes with it. With all his grace and title restored, bringing down a mountain would’ve been a mere thought.

  Hundreds of Spaun scurried away, those that weren’t already caught in their death throes. The rest, he couldn’t allow them to live. This battle, no this war, ended now.

  Chay lashed out with a stream of grace infused brimstone. The stream slammed into one Spaun in the center of the group. Instead of killing it outright, it leapfrogged to the others surrounding it, connecting all in a daisy chain of death.

  The pain… With his strength waning, Chay doubled his efforts. Through the deep fissures on his chest, back, and arms, the mixture of his acidic disgrace, Braile’s golden celestial grace, and the mountain’s brimstone filled the air. Nothing could survive under the barrage. The Spaun disintegrated. What little remained, fell into the crevice.

  Grace spent, disgrace bleeding out, Chay went into a freefall. He heard his name and with his last bit of energy, managed to crank his head around.

  Angels filled the sky, their gray, orange, and black wings outstretched in a stunning display. He had a brief moment of envy, then his vision refocused and narrowed on the fine details he’d missed. They weren’t angels. No, nothing so mundane as the Celestial Order Johnny-come-lately to the rescue. Four UnHallowed filled the sky: Sammiél, Kushiél, and Daghony. The three tucked their wings closed and nosedived. Rimmon stayed aloft. His leathery wings flared, one hand extended to Heaven, as if seeking divine aid, the other at the ground, possibly at Chay.