by Amy Braun
“Come, Max. Michael is not known for his patience.”
Max sighed. “Great. Always wanted to get my brain picked apart by an angel.”
I pushed myself out of the chair and turned around its back. “Relax,” I said, tapping the hidden tattoo just over my heart, “It’s not like you’re going to get possessed.”
He looked at me like I just told him I wanted to be a ballerina. “Your perception of good and bad is seriously skewed.”
I grinned at him. “You’d be amazed how many times people have told me that.”
Max rolled his eyes, then suddenly took my hand. I wasn’t ready for it, so I didn’t have time to pull away. I knew he was searching me for some kind of hope. He wanted to know if Lucifer said something to me suggesting that Dro was all right. I reacted fast, pulling on every ounce of faith I had so he wouldn’t know that she might have been happier now than she was with us. I let him feel my confidence in this sudden plan, that I didn’t think Lucifer would hurt her, and that I believed we’d get her back.
Only one of those thoughts didn’t feel like a lie.
Max took his hand away from mine and gave me a weak smile. I was better at faking it than he was. Sephiel stood by the doorway, watching us silently. Max blew out some air and followed the ex-angel out of the room.
Which left me alone with my annoyed boyfriend.
“Just say it, okay?”
“Say what?” he asked.
“I don’t know, whatever’s making you look pissed off. I told you that Lucifer showed up and saw me. If he wanted me dead, he would have fried me on the spot. But I’m still here, so everything’s fine.”
Warrick raised one of his eyebrows. “Everything’s fine? That’s what you’re going with?”
“What do you want me to say?” I shot back. “That I know what the hell I’m doing? That I know it will work? That I’m not fucking terrified of something going wrong?”
My voice had gotten a shake to it that I didn’t like. I looked away from Warrick. It wasn’t long until he was in front of me, putting his hands on my arms.
“Do you believe we can do this? Stop Drake and Mateo, take the fragments away from Lucifer, make him weak enough to overcome, close the Hell Gate, and get Dro back?”
A sane person would have said no. That we had a better chance at proving Santa Claus was real. It was a much less painful option, too.
But I thought about overcoming impossible obstacles. I thought about stopping one supernatural enemy after the other. I thought about how good it would feel when I stole the dreams from the people who’d given me nightmares.
“Yes,” I said.
Warrick read my eyes before giving me an easy smile. He leaned in and gave me a quick kiss. I wanted to make it last longer than it did, but that might make him suspicious.
He pulled back and stroked the hair lying against my face. “Then we better get going.”
Warrick kissed the top of my head, took my hand, and led me through the office. I couldn’t help but feel he had finally overcome his overprotectiveness for me. Maybe he finally learned that nothing he did or said would keep me out of danger or harm’s way.
I hoped that was the case, because I was sure I had just lied to him.
Chapter 20
No matter how many times I saw a burning building, I was never ready for it.
The smell and sight of the towering smoke pillars always burned my nose and brought tears to my eyes. The heat was always unbearable. The sound of screams was always new.
Michael hadn’t said where we were going, or what we’d find when we got there.
With the movens caeli’s power enhanced by Michael’s teleportation ability, the dozen of us were able to move at once. Max had warned us to be ready for a fight, but when we landed by a green market building called the Mercado Reforma, all we saw were the white steeples of the Cathedral de Ciudad Juárez erupting with flame. I tore my eyes away from the cathedral and looked at the people screaming on the streets.
There must have been three hundred of them, all crushed together in a mob of flailing limbs. Possessors made of black smoke hovered above their heads, and the smell of blood was thick. It was a full scale riot, with some stragglers being dragged off to the park on the side to be finished off more intimately.
Almost as thick as the blood was the rage. It grew inside me like a cancer, spreading to every cell and making me tighten my grip on my hatchet.
But worse than that was the subtle desire pushing into me. It was hiding under the rage, but it was there, like the heat under a fire.
I gave myself a mental shake and looked at the group. They were fighting the same addiction I was. Not even Michael was able to overcome it, and he wasn’t even fully human yet. If anything, he was looking at the madness with more rage than the rest of us.
Wait. He isn’t looking at the crowd. He’s looking just past them. What could be more...
I was following his line of sight as I thought it, and then I knew.
Standing in front of the burning church, absorbed by the spectacle of bloodshed, was Lucifer’s gang.
I spotted Drake and Carver taking whatever stragglers they could and venting on them with their fists. Carver was deadly serious, but I could almost hear Drake’s laughter. Behind them, Mateo stood with his fist clenched tightly at his side. He was itching to get into the fight.
I didn’t think it could get any worse, until I saw Lucifer.
He was standing with his back to the massacre, as if he had no idea it was happening. He was more interested in the burning cathedral in front of him. At first I thought he was controlling the fire, since he was making sweeping gestures and pointing things out. But he wasn’t standing alone.
She raised her hands, and the fire rose with them. She pressed her hands down, and it flattened on command.
When Dro turned her head to see Lucifer, I swore there was a trace of a smile on her lips.
I told myself he had been lying. Deception was what the King of Hell did best. He was trying to trick Dro, and she was playing along to learn his faults. But the smile looked too real for Dro to be faking.
My heart seemed to crumple inward, anger taking its place. I couldn’t believe she would fall for this. She had fought too hard for too long. I took my hatchet off my belt. Lucifer would pay for this. I would destroy him, even if I destroyed myself while doing it.
The edges of a white trench coat brushed against my shin. I blinked rapidly to see Michael stalking forward, the movens caeli in his hand. Before I could say anything, he immersed himself in the crowd. He was out of sight for a dangerously long time, and then a burst of golden light exploded through the crowd of murder-happy humans. They screamed as the light domed over top of them, and when the light faded, they were gone.
I blinked to clear my eyesight, and found myself staring across the street at my enemies and my sister. Carver, Drake, and Mateo looked furious, Lucifer was as impassive as ever, and Dro seemed caught between indescribable horror and crushing guilt.
Without even blinking or twitching, Lucifer opened a portal. The air parted like sliced skin, blood red fire curling around its edges. Demons tumbled through it, shoving each other aside to get to us.
This had been part of the plan we laid out before we came here. Michael would draw away the distractions, as he was the only one of us who could teleport. While he was gone, we would fight off any demons or Blood Thorns sent our way. The idea was that we could buy enough time for Michael to return and use his powers to strengthen our defense.
Seeing all the demons and possessed Thorns headed our way now, I wasn’t so sure we’d have the time we wanted.
I watched them pour out of the torn air, feeling my skin tighten and my heart begin to pound. The monsters rushing through the portal weren’t run of the mill demons. There were no brutal Reds, no flesh-hungry ghouls, not even hulking Shredders or howling Wretches.
Bounding out of the red tear were dogs the size of Irish Wolfhounds. But these
weren’t furry, gentle pets. Not unless you liked your dogs with greasy black skin, curved horns behind sharp ears, razor claws, and serrated teeth. Eyes that were solid black save for a few, stringy red veins stared at us with hunger and hatred. I gripped my hatchet for reassurance. I’d fought hellhounds before, and barely survived. Fighting four of them wasn’t going to send the odds into my favor.
But worse were the two shapes morphing behind the hellhounds. The warrior elite of Hell that I didn’t stand a chance against. They weren’t called Knights for nothing. Both had the tall, powerful build of a boxer or a professional linebacker. Their bodies were covered in a thick, scaled onyx armor with demonic symbols crudely etched into them. Two wide bat wings stuck out from their backs, and they each held a saw-toothed scythe in their gauntlet-covered hands. Their faces were covered in a helmet pointed like a jouster’s, wisps of smoke snaking out from the eye-slits, obscuring the burning red eyes behind the mask.
The angels rushed into the fight before I could tell them not to. Sephiel was even screaming for them to draw back and take out the possessed Blood Thorns first. They forgot they were human now, and it was going to get them all killed.
I wasn’t sure what I could do until Michael came back, but I couldn’t there and watch them all die. I followed the angels into the fight.
I couldn’t save the first one who swung his sword at the Knight he approached. The Knight leaned back, swept his scythe forward, hooking the sword and tearing it from the angel’s grip. The scythe flew up on a backswing, and cleaved the angel in two.
Tearing my eyes away from the shower of blood, I turned my head just as a hellhound leaped for my chest. I twisted to the side, seeing the dark blur fly past me. Hellhounds were insanely fast and able to blend into the shadows, literally hunting in darkness. By the time I turned around to find the hellhound, it was already slamming into me.
My back hit the concrete hard, and I barely got my arm under its throat to keep the beast from tearing into my throat. Its weight pressed down on me, the edges of its sharp fur poking into my jacket and the front of my shirt. I crossed my forearms under its neck, turning my head to the side as it snapped at me. Its savage roar was deafening, and the saliva that dripped onto my cheek and throat was burning hot. The smell of wet dog and sulfur gagged me.
Knowing I couldn’t hold it off much longer, I pushed my feet into its stomach to force it higher. The hellhound screamed furiously. Still keeping one arm under its neck, my hand darted into my jacket and grabbed a silver knife. I sliced the weapon across the hellhound’s throat. It twitched and barked. The skin was thick and hard to break with a single move, but the pressure eased off me. I kept my arm moving, reaching around the hellhound’s head until the tip of my knife plunged into its eye.
That got a reaction.
The hellhound yowled and thrashed its head, ripping my knife away from me. Its far paws brushed over my chest as it stumbled away from me, giving me the chance to breathe and get to my feet. I swung the hatchet down for its muzzle, just as it snarled and lunged for me with open jaws. The blade of the hatchet struck the edge of its upper jaw, leaving a shallow cut but still twisting its head to the side.
I stepped back to get distance on the hellhound, when arms coiled around my chest and trapped me.
“Come on now, sweetheart,” a Blood Thorn rasped in my ear. I smelled the reek of sulfur coming from his skin. “Give the dog a bone.”
I grimaced. “Okay.”
I snapped my head back, crushing his nose. He roared and rocked back, too dazed to hang onto me. The hellhound leaped forward just as I twisted to the side. The hellhound crashed into the possessed Blood Thorn. They tumbled and the man screamed, until the scream was replaced by a choking gurgle.
I eased back as the hellhound gorged itself, not ready for the solid punch that landed in my cheek. I stumbled with the hit, unable to get my bearings before someone else grabbed me and picked me up.
I was getting sick of that.
The man behind me hooked my arms while another man rushed in front of me and grabbed my legs. I growled and twisted, jerking one of my feet back until the Thorn in front of me lost hold of my boot. I snapped my foot into his chin, knocking him back and freeing both my legs. I leaned against the man behind me to keep myself elevated, then kicked the man in front of me in the throat. He lurched back and clutched his neck, gasping for air.
The man at my back snarled as we pitched forward, my feet hitting the ground again. He twisted my arms painfully, trying to force another submission hold on me. I stomped on his foot and he howled, loosening his grip. I was able to slip away from his arms, but he thanked me by punching me in the ribs. I hissed and kept twisting until I was in front of him. He swung at my head this time, so I ducked and slammed my hatchet into his leg right above the knee.
He screamed in pain while I reached into my jacket and drew another knife. I silenced him by stabbing the blade into his chin. I ripped it free and looked over my shoulder, seeing the choking Blood Thorn regain his breath to charge me. I tossed the knife with as much strength as I could muster. It was enough, embedding deep into his eye.
Adrenaline was pumping through my veins even as I retrieved my knife. I turned and took a second to see what was happening around me.
I’d been on the edge of the Heaven Gate battle, fighting human enemies while desperately buying Max time to make our escape with the movens caeli. It had been a horrible battle to witness, but actually being in this one was worse than I could imagine.
Nearly half of the angels were lying on the ground, blood soaking through the jagged tears of their white coats. Around them were two hellhounds and the gory remains of four Blood Thorns. Black smoke lingered in the air, Possessors in their natural form trying to find a new home. I was terrified they might be able to possess the angels, but they seemed to be deterred when they got too close.
They must have Michael’s sigil tattooed on them, too. Thank God.
My gaze shifted from the corpses to the living fighters. The remaining angels were trying to avoid the wickedly fast Knights, kicking away Blood Thorns when they had the chance. I couldn’t see Max, but he was probably smart enough to watch the sidelines and shout warnings when we couldn’t see a threat behind us. Sephiel was holding off the hellhounds, watching them carefully and lashing out with his short swords when they tried to bite him. The hellhound on his left snapped for his forearm, but Sephiel was just as quick. His left sword hacked down on the monster’s neck, causing it to cripple in half. The hellhound on his right charged, but Sephiel swept out his sword and cut open the beast’s throat.
Finding Warrick wasn’t hard. He was fighting Blood Thorns hand to hand, delivering powerful hits that left his targets stunned if not completely unconscious. Drake had been watching, and was sneaking up behind Warrick with a huge knife. I took in a breath to scream, but Max warned him before I could.
“Drake’s behind you!”
That was all Warrick needed to hear. He whirled around and lashed out, catching Drake in the cheek with a powerful back-fist. He grabbed the knife and tried to snap Drake’s wrist, but the larger bounty hunter used his free hand to punch Warrick in the head instead.
I was about to run to help him when shadow grew in front of me. Instinct kicked in and I ducked. The air split in half as a scythe barely missed my head. I kept moving, sprinting forward until I thought I had enough distance. I spun on my heel, clutching my hatchet and knife, and saw that I completely misjudged how close the Knight was.
It was three feet from me, coal-red eyes burning into mine as it raised the scythe like an executioner’s axe. It descended and I jumped to the side, wincing as the dark blade plunged into the concrete. The Knight dragged the scythe up from the cement, swinging it toward my stomach. I leaped back as far as I could, feeling the air move as the curved blade barely missed me. The demon warrior turned with the blade, lashing out at my head with his fist. I crouched to avoid it, then threw myself back as the scythe crossed up to m
e.
I watched the blade rise over my head, flip, and descend. I crossed my hatchet and knife to catch the scythe, narrowly avoiding the blade. My strength was nowhere near the Knight’s, so the most I could do to save my life was shuffle away and let its black blade screech against my silver ones. I had just pushed away the scythe when the Knight closed in and plunged its fist into my stomach.
I thought it had punched a hole clean through me. I crumpled in half and flew back three feet, tripping on my heels and landing hard on the ground. I grimaced at the pain swelling along my belly, using adrenaline and survival instinct to numb it. I still had my weapons, but they weren’t going to do me any good. By the time I was getting back to my feet, the Knight was standing over me. It stood like a black shadow, the red eyes searing into my memory like a branding iron. Its armor clinked as it pulled its arms back, lifting the scythe like a sadistic golfer about to tee off my head.