Hellsbane 01 - Hellsbane

by Paige Cuccaro

  But Rifion’s iron hand gripped my left bicep, sending a stab of blinding pain searing through my body. I could feel the bullet boring deeper beneath his touch, forcing the red hot metal through meat and muscle with the power of his angelic mind. My mouth opened on a scream that stuck in my throat. I couldn’t breathe for the agony of it, and my knees turned to jelly. Rifion yanked me to my feet, determined to have me or kill me.

  Crap. I couldn’t go out like this. I couldn’t let these people pay for what I was. My jaw clenched, determination steeling my spine. I pushed the pain from my thoughts and threw my weight, trying to break his grip. I had to get to Dan, to the other cops who sat at their desks like rubber ducks in a shooting gallery, their brains sluggishly coming back under their control.

  My gaze snapped to Imad, and what I saw nearly stopped my heart.

  “No. You can’t interfere. Rifion! Rifion, he starts the war,” Imad wailed.

  “Eli, no!” I said, and Rifion turned in time to see Eli’s sword slice through the demon’s neck with a lightning-fast, fluid grace.

  Eli turned, his glacier-blue eyes fixed on Rifion, his gleaming sword in his hand. His black jacket fluttered around his calves, his midnight curls shifting against his stiff white collar in the current of his blazing power.

  Behind him, translucent wings, even more brilliant than Rifion’s, stretched at least nine feet wide on either side of him. The tips brushed the floor; the top arches touched the ceiling. The brilliant light they emitted haloed around his body from head to toe like a translucent neon outline.

  “Mind yourself, angel. You’d start the war for this?” Rifion said, giving my wounded arm a hard shake.

  Eli’s gaze flicked to me. Finish him, he said to my mind. I didn’t need to be told twice.

  “No,” I said, and Rifion turned his attention to me. “He’s not starting a war. He’s just here to watch me fight one.”

  I opened my gift to him, pushed my will hard and fast into his mind, like a red-hot pick through ice. Shock loosened his hold on my arm, and I spun from his grip. He staggered back, raising his sword just as I mirrored the move, sword up, ready to attack or parry.

  “You’d battle an angel?” he said. “You’re a fool.”

  “You’re not an angel,” I said. “You’re an escaped con, and I’m Heaven’s bounty hunter.”

  Rage gouged deep lines in his face, his eyes darkening until they were black as pitch. His snarl bared his teeth, and he let loose an unearthly growl. The sound rumbled across the floor, vibrating through my chest, and a splash of cold fear froze my heart.

  I clenched my jaw. Screw that. “I was born for this.”

  Rifion advanced. He was fast, damn fast, faster than I was, but not so fast I couldn’t track him. The gleam of his sword sparked in my vision as it hurtled toward my neck. I shifted, swung, and blocked, the impact rattling down my arms like a million jolts of electricity.

  The fallen angel let his momentum carry him around, so I had to spin to keep him in front of me. In a whirl of golden cloth and shimmering hair, he struck again, and so did I. Our blades clashed, sparks showering between us. I twisted my wrists, turning my blade, circling his sword so his strike was deflected, pulling his arms with it. For a brief instant, his midsection was bare to me.

  I spun. Thrust. And drove my sword deep, deep into his gut. Rifion doubled over, his hand grabbing the small section of my blade still outside of his body. White smoke steamed from his palm, stinking of brimstone, the sound of flesh sizzling like bacon on a griddle hissing between us. His black eyes met mine, shocked. But too quickly, his beautiful mouth slowly closed as his expression hardened into resolve, his brows knotted, his lips curling again, baring teeth. He stood, clenching his jaw against the burning flesh and yanking my blade, pulling it halfway out.

  “Stupid woman,” he said. “This won’t kill me. It just pisses me off.” He jerked again, and the full length of my sword slipped free, wet and sloppy, from his body.

  The hole I’d made was already healing, the palm of his hand burned black from holding my sword. It was more than enough. “I wasn’t trying to kill you, Fallen. I just wanted you to stand still for a second.”

  I raised the hilt to my shoulder. Power swelled inside me, humming through my veins, glowing white hot along the blade of my sword. Energy pulsed up from somewhere deep inside me, filling my mind with words that weren’t my own but somehow familiar, as though buried there since my conception. “Rifion, hallowed angel fallen from grace. By the power of God, I sentence you to the abyss until the end of days.”

  I swung faster than human, demon, or Fallen angel could track. My sword sliced through the air, making a faint whistle as it sailed toward Rifion’s neck.

  The edge of my blade made contact with what was once his flesh and bone, triggering a brilliant burst of light, filling the room like a small nuclear explosion and sending me careening backward onto my butt. Fluorescent lights overhead popped and hissed, a hazy cloud billowing along the ceiling. Wind swirled from the outer edges of the room, gathering everything that had been blown outward toward the center again, forming a tornado-like funnel in the very spot Rifion had stood.

  “Emma, watch out!” Dan was suddenly beside me, tucking me against him, using his body to shield mine. The air sucked from the room, drawn into the vortex. I turned my face into Dan’s chest, shielding my eyes from the spinning debris, and he tucked his head against my back, both of us trying to breathe. Pressure built in my ears. My eyes hurt like my brain was swelling in my head. The inescapable energy reached critical mass a half second before the whole room shook with a deafening sonic boom.

  Seconds ticked by. A strange absence of sound pulsated through the room as shredded papers, bits of carpet, and random debris floated to the floor. Everything settled.

  Nothing of Rifion remained. It was over.

  I straightened, Officer Wysocki still holding me close. Muscles along my shoulders eased, tension flooding out of my body like an unplugged sink. I closed my eyes, willing my heart to slow, then collapsed, boneless, into Dan’s arms, fighting to catch my breath.

  “Rot in Hell, Rifion.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  “The suspects in yesterday’s shooting, in which one police officer was killed and another seriously wounded, will be arraigned today. The shooters, Noah Caster and Grace Bookmen, deny any responsibility, despite the security footage graphically depicting their rampage.”

  The anchorwoman on Channel Six’s news had used too much hairspray again today. I grabbed the TV remote from my nightstand but waited to see if she’d get anything right about what’d happened at the police station yesterday.

  “Mr. Caster, originally from Fairfield, Iowa, and Miss Bookmen, from San Francisco, California, had come to Pittsburgh with their church, Faith Harvest, to participate in the annual revival at the David Lawrence Convention center. Both claim to have no recollection of the shooting and insist they’d come to the station to speak with police regarding the various minor arrests made during the weeklong revival.”

  A spike of doubt tripped my heartbeat and drained the blood from my face. After the charges against me were dropped, Dan had promised my name wouldn’t be released to the press. I was an illorum, Heaven’s bounty hunter, but I still had my day job to worry about.

  Reputation takes forever to build and a second to destroy, and no one wants a tarot card reading from an ex-con. At least not at the rates I charge. Plus, I seriously did not want to have to explain to my mother why I’d been arrested for waving a sword around at a religious convention. She didn’t like when I sent food back at a restaurant. She thought that was making a scene.

  “Channel Six contacted Faith Harvest Church for a comment, but our calls were never returned,” the anchorwoman said. “However, minutes before airing, we received a fax stating that Richard Hubert, a recognizable figure in the controversial church, has left on sabbatical with no word when he’ll return.”

  Can you call a trip to Hell
a sabbatical? I jabbed the power button with my thumb and tossed the remote onto my unmade bed. Thanks to Rifion’s nephilim mind trick, the officers who were in the room with us didn’t remember much after Grace and Noah took control of them.

  They looked to Dan and me to fill in the blanks. Dan went along with my version of events, mostly because he wasn’t sure he knew what’d happened either. Rigging the security tape to match our story was Eli’s handiwork. Of course, now I had to explain it all to Dan. But I didn’t really mind. It’d be nice having someone normal—not to mention cute—to talk to about all the craziness in my life.

  My gaze drifted to the world map I’d snagged from Tommy’s apartment and my heart gave a sad tug. Would I ever stop missing him? I’d tacked his map on my wall just like he had, and I’d managed to keep all the strings and pictures connected. I probably wouldn’t keep track of my kindred like he had, but looking at it reminded me of him, helped ease the lonely spot he’d left inside me. Seeing how many people out there were just like me helped too. It really was a kind of comfort. I sighed, my gaze flicking to the neon-green numbers on my alarm clock.

  It was already 6:25, and Dan would be around to pick me up any minute. I checked myself in the mirror. I was going for a casual this isn’t a date, but don’t you wish it was look. The stretchy mauve top clung to my curves, making me look good, but not like I was trying. I’d add my black cotton bolero jacket before we left. My good jeans, the ones that hugged my butt without flattening too much, plus my black, pointy-toed boots gave me just enough dress-up without the fuss.

  The doorbell rang, and I wasted another second or two fluffing my hair, checked the small amount of makeup I’d put on, and adjusted the little dangly heart earrings I’d picked out. After I centered the matching silver heart necklace, I jogged downstairs to open the door.

  “Eli.”

  Resting a shoulder against the doorjamb, he gave a small bow. Very old-world, very sexy. “Emma Jane.”

  “Why’d you ring? I’ve invited you in before.”

  “Yes. But I know how you treasure the illusion of privacy.”

  “Right.” I gave him a sarcastic wink and one thumbs-up. “Thanks. You’re a prince.”

  His gaze traveled the length of me and back. “You’re going out for the evening?”

  “Yeah.” I shrugged. “Dan Wysocki’s picking me up.”

  “The police officer?”

  “Yeah.”

  “The nephilim police officer?”

  “That’s the one.”

  He raised a questioning brow.

  “What?”

  “You’ll bring him into the fold tonight?”

  “Hell, no.” I walked into my office. Eli followed, closing the front door behind him. “This isn’t even an official date. I’m not sure I’ll kiss him, let alone screw up his whole life.”

  “What is it, if not a date?” Eli asked.

  “An exchange,” I said. “I’m going to tell him what I know about my angelic sperm donor, and he’s going to use his connections to help me get a lead on him.”

  “Romantic.”

  “You bet.” I hiked a shoulder. “Besides, the ink’s still too fresh on Dan’s divorce papers. Anyone he dates now is either revenge or a replacement, and that ain’t me.”

  “And in exchange for his help?” Eli asked.

  “I fill him in on all the fun demon-hunting, sword-fighting, acidy-brimstone details that go with being the spawn of a fallen angel.”

  “You know if you allow him to be marked, I can help explain everything? It’s what I do,” he said.

  “Dan’s already doing his part for humanity by being a cop. He’s got kids, Eli. I’m not going to be the one to take him away from them. Besides, if you had recognized the picture of my dad, I wouldn’t need to ask Dan for help.”

  “Yes. It’s unfortunate the picture from your aunt’s scrapbook wasn’t clearer.” Eli glanced away, a strange look haunting his expression before he banished it. “As for Officer Wysocki, not everyone resents the call to duty. Some find it a noble and satisfying use of God’s gift.”

  “Oh yeah? Bet they don’t date much.” I snagged my purse from the couch and brought it over to the desk, where I could transfer the basic necessities into the tiny black clutch. The little purse went great with my jacket and boots. Not that it mattered, ’cause this wasn’t a date date. Riiiggght.

  “Thomas never complained about such petty things.”

  I turned, mouth agape. “Petty? Sex is not petty. Sex is…sex is…SEX. It’s like eating and sleeping, it’s what makes life worth all the crap you have to go through. Hell, it’s what makes life possible.” This was pointless. Look who I was telling.

  He glanced away. “I thought this wasn’t an official date.”

  My mouth snapped shut. I sighed, deflating a little. “That’s beside the point. Anyway, just because Tommy didn’t complain doesn’t mean he didn’t think about it. Trust me.”

  Memories of our kiss flickered through my mind, warmed my heart, and made my throat tight. Crap. I didn’t want to cry. I turned and went back to figuring out how to make my six-inch wallet fit into my four-inch clutch.

  “He’s in a better place, Emma Jane,” Eli said. I could feel him close behind me. We weren’t touching, but then, we didn’t have to. His power pulsed around him like an electric force field. I could feel the warmth of it tingling up my back. The smell of sunshine and fresh summer breezes swirled through me, and I closed my eyes, sneaking a quick, indulging breath.

  His hands warmed my shoulders, his touch instantly easing the ache in my heart, the tension in my muscles. He was getting better at comforting me without turning me on, but the line was razor thin, and too often I held my breath wondering if he’d cross it—secretly hoping that he would. He didn’t. But the wondering, the anticipation, was just as arousing.

  I licked my lips, cleared my throat, and tried to focus my thoughts. “Have you seen him?”

  “Seen who?” Eli questioned, and I could hear the soft rasp of his voice. I wasn’t the only one feeling the tempting heat between us.

  “Tommy. Have you seen him since…You know, seen him up there?” I gestured with a quick twist of my wrist, though I knew Heaven wasn’t so much up as not where we were.

  “Emma Jane, I…” His hands dropped away, and I turned to face him.

  “What?” He looked stricken, heartbroken even, his eyes downcast, his mouth a thin drooping line. Shit. “He’s not there, is he? I knew it. He’s not in Heaven.”

  My gut pinched, turned to ice. This was exactly what I was afraid of. No matter what we did, no matter how hard we tried, we’d never be forgiven. We were paying for a sin that wasn’t ours. How can anyone make up for that?

  I felt sick, not wanting to think about it, but not able to stop. Where had Tommy’s soul been sent? What does God do with a product of sin? I really didn’t want to think about it, but my brain was stuck.

  Eli closed the small distance between us, his hands coming up to cup my cheeks. Our eyes locked. “Emma Jane, I’m sure Thomas has received his reward. I’m sure,” he said. “I haven’t seen him, because I’m not allowed.”

  “Why?”

  His thumbs caressed my cheeks, the soft sensation so comforting my thoughts went fuzzy at the edges. “Because of my closeness to humans, to you and the other illorum I train, and the toll it takes on me to leave you.”

  I leaned back, freeing my face from the frame of his hands. It was just too hard to think with him touching me. “I don’t understand.”

  “Leaving Paradise is not an easy thing, Emma Jane,” he said. “Leaving those so dear to me is a near-impossible feat. Going back and forth between the two realms, witnessing such profound beauty and serenity, would be an unnecessary distraction for my existence here.”

  “Wait. How long has it been since you’ve gone…home?”

  He glanced away, thinking, then back, his hands slipping into the pockets of his slacks. “I don’t know exactly, but
not since after Jeannette was taken from me. I returned to my brothers for a time and was nearly unable to force myself to come back to Earth. After that, my brothers thought it best that I stay here until my duty is complete.”

  “You can’t go home until all the Fallen are chained in the abyss?” And I thought the illorum got a raw deal.

  He blinked at my expression, and a smile blossomed across his face as laughter bubbled out of him. “Don’t look so sorry for me, Emma Jane. I don’t mind. My duty is my life, the reason I exist. Besides, I like it here, and the company’s not so bad.”

  Heat washed through my cheeks, and I glanced away, feeling my smile tugging the corners of my mouth. Thoughts of Tommy tempered my mood again. “So what you’re saying is, you don’t know for sure if Tommy was accepted into Paradise.”

  “Life is the gift,” he said. “Heaven is the reward for a life well lived. Tommy lived well. Toward the end he lived better than most, using the gift of life he’d been given to serve God. He received his reward.”

  I nodded, forced a smile, though the muscles that held it trembled with the effort. I sighed and tried to take comfort in Eli’s certainty. The truth was, he didn’t know much more than the rest of us. “Faith, right?”

  He smiled. “Exactly.”

  Must be nice. I sighed and tried with all my will to push the worry from my mind. Turning back to my two purses, I opened my wallet, looking for essentials. “Right. At least all the rest of Tommy’s siblings are free to lead normal lives.”

  “Yes,” Eli said. “Although if any of Rifion’s biological children were among those whose power he triggered prematurely, the release from the burden of his sin may not have the same effect.”

  I looked over my shoulder at him. “You mean they might still have their nephilim powers?”

  “I don’t know, but it’s definitely something we need to address,” he said. “If their angelic halves had been left dormant or at least activated like a regular illorum, they’d have lost the power and gone back to a normal life the instant you sent their angelic father to the abyss. With this new turn of events, the outcome is uncertain. It’s our duty to determine what’s become of all those Rifion corrupted.”