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

by Tmonique Stephens

  Whatever he planned on doing, he’d better make it fast, because Chay wouldn’t survive the impact.

  Lightning flashed in the cloudless sky. A pocket of air swallowed him. Caught in the bubble, Chay tumbled around, heels over head. The ground still rushed for him, just at a slightly slower pace. This rescue would prolong his death, not end it.

  Then he met the earth.

  ~~~~~

  “Wakey, wakey.”

  Slowly, Chay cranked his head around and took in the altered landscape. He was on a footbridge made of stone with a gentle arch in the center. Polished to a high shine, it looked new, recently pieced together by a master builder.

  Below the bridge, Hell. Above the bridge, Heaven. He was in the Divide, a place he never, ever thought he would be. A place where demons came to be judged and sentenced. As if they had an atheist prayer to cross the pearly gates, um, make that cross over the bridge. Demons didn’t get the pearly gate routine.

  On the other side, a boy waited. A boy Chay met only once. Same eyes, same colored hair, same cheekbones, a male version of the woman he loved.

  “Caleb.”

  He gave a circular wave and tucked his hand back into his jean pocket. Casually, he rocked on the heels of his sneakers. “Chayyliél. Nice to meet you. Even if it’s under these circumstances.”

  Yeah, about these circumstances. “Why am I here?”

  Caleb cocked his head to the side. His brow knit together. “Don’t you know?”

  An UnHallowed had never died, so no. He didn’t know why he was here.

  Caleb snorted and shook his head as he’d heard Chay’s thoughts. “You’re not dead. Your kind is too important to die, especially now.”

  The last two words in Caleb’s sentence were the most important. Too important to ignore. “What does that mean?”

  “Not my call. I’m here to thank you.”

  Taken aback, Chay flinched. “What for?”

  “My sister.”

  Appalled, Chay’s hand shot out to stop him. “You don’t need to thank me for Sophie.”

  “I do.” Caleb insisted. “Your love saved her where I couldn’t.”

  “That’s not true.” He couldn’t let Caleb believe he failed his sister for all of eternity. “Ozzy would’ve killed her without you there.”

  “Yeah, but you being there after I was gone made a difference. You helped her in ways a brother never could.” He waggled his eyebrows and smirked.

  Distinctly uncomfortable, Chay waved a finger back and forth. “I’m not having this conversation with you.”

  “I get it. No sex discussions with the little brother. I just want you to know, you make her happy.”

  Through the sudden lump in his throat, Chay managed to say, “She makes me happy.”

  Caleb smiled and a sense of peace radiated across the distance separating them. “Don’t get nervous if you see me every now and then checking up on her. It’s my new gig. I’m a guardian angel. Not hers, but I’ll be close.”

  Before Chay could say another word, Caleb faded.

  “Holy… With my own eyes and I still don’t believe it.”

  Daghony’s voice cut through the darkness crowding Chay’s mind. He opened his eyes to a world of pain and wonder.

  “How are you still alive?”

  “You make shit look good.”

  Rimmon and Kush’s voices clashed for dominance. From the look of horror on their faces, he had a good idea they weren’t exaggerating. Chay ignored both and concentrated on the only thing of importance. “Sophie,” he croaked as agony twisted through his gut.

  “Tahariél has her,” Sam answered from somewhere to Chay’s right.

  He closed his eyes. When he opened them again, they were focused on Daghony. “I want you to take care of her. Watch out for her. Make sure no one hurts her. Ever. Do that for me.”

  Panic flared in Daghony’s aqua and jade irises. “And where will you be?”

  “Nowhere, because he will be right here, with her.” Sammiél stood over Chay and Daghony. His orange wings arching over his shoulders.

  “Reapers don’t come for fallen angels or demons. Yet, death is here.” Chay gave a painful chuckle at the annoyance on Sam’s face. Caleb’s words echoed in his head. Chay would hate to call the guy a liar but… He looked past Sam’s wings to see gold droplets floating in the air, winding their way toward him.

  He reached a shaky hand for it. A droplet plopped into his palm and seeped into his skin. The relief was immediate and sweet, a homecoming. The grace may have originated with Braile, but now, it belonged to him.

  Droplets pelted him, only him. Not a single drop landed on the ground or the other UnHallowed. He absorbed it all. Water to parched earth, his destroyed body drank it in. Drop by drop, his flesh knit together, bringing him from the brink of… What?

  He sat up. Climbed to his feet, tested his limbs. Damn, he’d never felt better or more like his old self. The power coursing through his system was an upgrade.

  “How do you feel?” Sam questioned, his gaze assessing.

  “Good,” Chay answered carefully. “Actually, better than good.”

  Sam nodded once. “The ratio between Braile’s grace and your disgrace has changed. You’re not Hallowed, will never be.”

  “But I’m close enough.” Chay grinned. He wasn’t greedy. Looking up, he spotted the window he and Sophie had leapt from. He stepped into a shadow and exited inside the room.

  He flung open the doors and marched down a long hallway, his senses taking in every room, every false panel, secret alcove, hidey-hole. Empty. All of them. The house was abandoned. Except for one room. Homing in on his target, he veered right, and jogged up a flight of stairs to a sprawling bedroom.

  At the end of the room, in front of a roaring fire crackling inside a large fireplace, was Sophie. She was wrapped in a blanket and propped up on a stack of pillows. Riél lounged next to her. She murmured something and Riél laughed, then he cranked his head around and winked at Chay.

  “See, you owe me the second dance.” Riel hopped up and met Chay halfway. “She’s fine. All her fingers and toes are toasty. She needs to rest but wouldn’t until she saw you.” He pounded a fist into Chay’s shoulder. “She’s a keeper. You’re lucky she saw you first, ‘cause I’d definitely steal her from you.”

  Jealousy was swift, at which Riel laughed and headed for the exit. He closed the door behind him, giving Chay and Sophie some privacy. She hadn’t moved from her spot. He approached slowly, worried about her mental state and her physical condition. He needed to get her back home.

  He needed…her.

  Chay crossed in front of the fireplace and sank to his knees. Cocooned in several blankets, her eyes were closed, and her breathing was easy. Her lips were badly chapped, but she seemed all right. She slept, but he needed to see her eyes, know for himself she was all right.

  He slipped his hand between the blankets to cup her soft cheek. Her eyes fluttered open, and then he stared into the most beautiful pair of cornflower blues. The first time he gazed into them, he knew, but denied the feeling taking root. She was too young. Too human. Too much of what he wanted. Too perfect.

  She was still too perfect, especially for him, but he wanted her and would no longer be denied.

  “Are you okay?” Her voice was low but strong.

  “I am now.” He leaned in and brushed his lips against hers. Her lips parted, and his control slid away. He devoured her, or she devoured him. Either way, nothing mattered but them. He pulled away because he had to. This wasn’t the time or the place.

  “I love you,” she said, beating him to the punch. “I didn’t just say it because I thought we were dying. I meant it with all my heart. No more running. If you want me—”

  “If I want you?” He pulled her into his lap. “If doesn’t belong in the sentence. I’m yours. I have been since the moment I saw you.” A smile broke across her face. “And you’re mine.”

  She nodded and freed her arms from the bl
ankets. Her arms twined around his neck and she brought him in for a long, lick across his lips. He shuddered and his cock went stiff. “Let’s go home, so we can finish this,” she breathed into his mouth.

  “Hell. Yeah.” Cradling Sophie safely in his arms, Chay went to find Riél for her ride home.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Two days later

  Kushiél parked his ass on a leather barstool. A tumbler of Stoli Elit in his hand kept him company. Yes. It was possible to be completely alone in a room full of people. Over the rim of his glass, in the basement common room at the farm, he took in the occupants.

  Gideon and Dina, Bane and Amaya, Chayyliél and Sophie, the couples occupied the sofas and other various chairs. Sitting close to their mates, if not touching, then a scant distance away as if the other’s presence was necessary for them to function. Tahariél and Rimmon were at the pool table. Gadreel, Ioath, and Daghony played poker. Daghony was winning, judging by his poker chip castle. Zed nursed a beer in front of the flat screen. And Scarla, she nursed a beer at the opposite end of the bar.

  Everyone was dialed into Chay’s speech. Forty-eight hours he’d spent by Sophie’s side. A bit excessive, but Kush kept that opinion to himself. All the questions needing answers, also waited, impatiently.

  Kush liked Sophie…as much as he liked anyone. Her guilt, the ever-present dark cloud that clung to her like bad credit, had lifted. Traces of it continued to cling, wisps of guilt and sadness continued to hang on, but as she craned her head up to look adoringly at Chay, nothing remained except an abiding love. It oozed from her, Amaya, and Dina.

  Kush glanced at Scarla and studied the anger rippling in waves from her body. Not a happy camper. Anger—useless emotion—one that he was intimate with. Anger was all he felt after the Fall. He nursed it, tended to it with a jealous zeal until it settled millennia later into a pleasant apathy even Scarla’s antics never truly elevated.

  He understood her anger even if he couldn’t sympathize. What she was, what the UnHallowed encouraged her to be, she wasn’t that anymore. Less than was how she felt, and it was the truth. What made her special, the UnHallowed half, Braile’s grace had removed. Ripped it out of her DNA. Her despair over the loss was profound, and she hid it poorly. A small part of him wished he knew how to string together the proper words to mediate her pain. A very small part. He should care, he no longer knew how to anymore. Not even for one he considered a sister.

  “Are you certain it was Malphas you saw?” Ioath’s voice cut through Kush’s contemplations.

  “As certain as I’m looking at you,” Chay answered.

  “Was he there for the Crossroad Demon?” Riél asked.

  “Doubtful. My guess would be he came for the Spaun and got lucky with the demon who killed Lizette. I’m guessing she was important to him.” Chay wrapped an arm around Sophie’s shoulders and pulled her closer to his side. She dipped her head and dropped a quick kiss to his forearm, a subconscious act she probably didn’t realize she did.

  Something twisted in Kush’s gut. Something that made him uncomfortable. A strange sensation he’d never experienced and one he had no desire to further investigate.

  “He went there to kick ass, get some revenge, and left with that bitch?” Zed removed his toothpick, took a swig of his beer, then replaced the toothpick. “Win-win situation if you ask me. Besides”—with his beer he saluted Chay—“The Powerful One handled his shit.”

  “So, what’s Malphas’s game plan now?” Amaya asked, and everyone looked at Ioath, formerly the Archangel of Demons, their resident authority.

  Ioath’s brow furrowed and he scratched at the brown whiskers on his jaw. “Well… After he takes care of his ex-girlfriend problem, his attention will return to his empire, and I don’t mean his legitimate human enterprises. As Kush previously noted, Malphas will seek vengeance against those who wronged him, real or perceived. A subordinate wrested power from him. Nearly killed him in front of the Demon Army Malphas once led. He’s going to seek revenge and rebirth. That means he’s going to rebuild ASAP. I figure a short timetable.”

  Rolling a black chip between his fingers, Daghony spoke. “I say let him. I’d rather have a Demoni Lord in charge of the Demon Army who wants to be left alone, than have that army rudderless.” Neatly, he stacked his chips and picked up his tumbler of Jack.

  “What’s in that glass you’re drinking?”

  “Are you high?”

  “Fucking idiot.”

  The uproar was swift and continued until Sam cleared his throat, but Bane stood, beating him to the punch. “A rudderless army is easy to pick off. Low hanging fruit.”

  Daghony pushed away from the poker table and stood a few inches taller. “A rudderless army has no direction. How long do you think it will take them to find the easiest target? Humans. And need I remind you… They have the Cruor—again.”

  “They couldn’t open it before. I doubt that dynamic has changed,” Bane said.

  Ioath rose from his seat. Hands braced on the table, he leaned forward, knocking over his small stack of chips in the process. “That’s not a reason to let them have it.”

  Bane separated from Amaya to face Ioath. “Not what I said, man.”

  The three, Daghony, Bane, and Ioath, faced off against each other while the rest of the UnHallowed took sides. Funny how they’d all let Chay off the hook for the loss. Kush gave a mental snort, even as he admitted the demons hadn’t been able to open the portal in all the time they’d had it. The chances of that dynamic changing were nil. And anyway, Kush was of the opinion to let the humans fend for themselves. Whatever the UnHallowed did or didn’t do, those selfish mongrels wouldn’t appreciate it. He’d say fuck ‘em but didn’t care enough.

  Someone threw out the word apocalypse at which someone snorted. One mortal’s apocalypse was an immortal’s cleansing. All things died…eventually.

  “Remember the Celestial Army is gone. Who knows how long their mourning will last,” Daghony added.

  “It could be centuries,” Gadreel murmured, yet the gravity of his voice weighed on all.

  “Without the Celestial Army protecting humans, how long will they last?” Daghony pressed. “And are we willing to stand by and witness that slaughter?”

  Yes balanced on the tip of Kushiél’s tongue when Sammiél cut him off. “Michael has made us an offer.”

  Every head whipped around as if yanked by a master puppeteer. All eyes landed on Sam.

  He sat in a gray, overstuffed armchair, legs splayed, arms open and resting on the chair, like a king reigning over a court, a king who’d just issued a proclamation.

  The somewhat relaxed atmosphere evaporated, replaced with the not so subtle threat of violence on an epic scale. Kush stood but kept his place at the bar. Every UnHallowed stood, and Dina, and Amaya.

  “What offer?” Zed asked in a voice better suited for a graveyard, an empyreal sword replaced the beer in his hand.

  Sam folded his hands in his lap. “The Council of Archangels has offered the UnHallowed a job.”

  Pin drop silence until Riél barked out a rusty laugh.

  The corner of Sam’s mouth lifted in a wintry smile. “They need an army and we are it.”

  “We?” snarled Rimmon.

  Sam’s gaze met each and every person, including Scarla and Sophie. He skipped Dina, probably because all knew where the former angel would side. “Everyone in this room.”

  “In exchange for what?” Chay stepped forward and angled his body in front of Sophie.

  “And it had better be good,” Ioath growled.

  Sam cranked his head to the side. Snap, crackle, pop, went several vertebrae. By the scowl on his face, it didn’t elevate one ounce of tension. “We never got to that part.”

  “Why?” Gideon asked.

  “Because I told him to fuck off.” Sam’s gaze cut to Scarla and they shared a micro smile.

  Riél threw up his hands and then started clapping hard enough to create a breeze. “Well, there you
have it!” He gave Sam a little bow, did a little twerk, and said, “You did good, Boyo! Can we all leave now?”

  “I have a question.” Gadreel paused for dramatic effect, Kush guessed and folded his arms across his chest. The nearest shadow waited to his left. One step and he’d be gone.

  “Why did Michael pick you? Are you our leader and forgot to inform us?” Gadreel finished.

  A whiff of smoke filled the air. Sam’s nostrils flared and he took a breath, though oxygen was the last thing he needed.

  Kush eyed Sam with an unaccustomed wariness. Sammiél, leader of the UnHallowed. That was absolutely the last thing they wanted. The only reason the UnHallowed worked was because there wasn’t a leader. They ruled themselves. Slap a set of rules on them and there’d be collateral damage. Bloody collateral damage.

  “If I was your leader, you would damn well know it.” His flinty gaze swept over the room again. “After everything we’ve survived…”

  Sam’s voice trailed away. Kush knew Sam wasn’t referring to the latest events but referencing all of their long history.

  “You pick the devil you run with.” Sam seemed to speak the words to himself rather than the crowd, but then he refocused. “We picked to fall together. To sacrifice our grace out of an unspoken loyalty. We chose to stay together, proven by the fact we are all here. We have fought together and bled together, and I dare say, we will either ascend together or die together. All of us will take this opportunity or not, but we will do so together.”

  Through their shared link, a single word echoed. Agreed. Some begrudgingly.

  Except for one.

  “Not without conditions, and a contract signed by the council and approved by the Maker.” Rimmon strolled across the room and took the chair closest to Sam. Gracefully, he sat, crossed his legs, and leaned back into the cushions, the epitome of style and elegance.