Salvation: A Realm of Flame and Shadow Novel

by Phillips, Christina

  She trailed her fingers over the stone wall as they went up the spiral staircase, but no flashes of insight came to her. Had Nate picked up any vibrations in here?

  Gods, she’d almost died when he had called her name.

  But it confirmed one of her suspicions. She was on the right track when it came to connecting the vampire, the sword, and the attempted assassination of an archangel.

  And Nate still wants to go out to dinner with me tonight.

  “This castle has had many additions over the centuries,” Octavia said as they emerged into daylight once again. “It’s like a labyrinth. Anyway, we have our rooms on this floor.”

  She pulled her attention back to the present. Even if she did go out with Nate tonight, it was only so she could find out more information. Despite Eblis’ conviction, Nate didn’t appear to mind sharing things with her. Sure, they weren’t immortalized secrets, and she supposed he hadn’t really told her anything of vital importance, but when he had shared personal insights—he hadn’t lied.

  I don’t care about his personal insights.

  Except a contemptible part of her did.

  Octavia opened a door to a bedroom that could have come straight from a five-star hotel. Bella shut the door behind her and took a deep breath. She wasn’t looking forward to this, but if she wanted Octavia to break confidences, then she had to break some of her own.

  “What’s this all about?” Octavia tucked her hands into the pockets of her white lab coat. Bella pulled off her beret and unwrapped her scarf, but she couldn’t procrastinate forever.

  “We both know there are sides of our lives that we’ve never shared before.”

  Octavia’s expression didn’t flicker. “Yes.”

  “You’ve probably guessed I’ve met a lot of demon bloods over the years.”

  “It makes sense. Why wouldn’t you? I know scores of dhampirs.”

  “That’s different. Your race hasn’t been vilified throughout history.”

  “I don’t think humans would be accepting of dhampirs, if they knew we walked among them.”

  Maybe not, but Bella still didn’t think it was the same. Dhampirs had always known where they belonged, but until Eblis had found her, and until she’d joined the Watchers, she’d been alone. Thinking she was a horrifying freak of nature.

  But that wasn’t the discussion she needed to have right now.

  “Before I say anything else, I need your word that it stays between us.”

  “You have it.”

  “And the reason I’m telling you now, is because I think our investigations intersect.”

  Octavia was silent for a moment. “You believe if we share information, we can help each other?”

  Now came the tricky part. “I’m not sure I have any information that might help you. But I’ll tell you something of my life, and then it’s down to you whether you can share anything with me.”

  “Okay.” Although Octavia’s voice was neutral, intrigue gleamed in her eyes. “I’m not promising anything, though.”

  “I possess more powers than you know. I can teleport.”

  “Ah, I wondered about that. And it does explain how you appeared at the castle so soon after your phone call.”

  Well, shit. She’d been all hyped up, ready to give a demonstration, and Octavia wasn’t even phased by the revelation. It wasn’t a good start.

  “Not that it matters, but teleportation is a rare ability for demon bloods to inherit.”

  Fuck. Now she sounded defensive.

  “Is it?” Octavia appeared fascinated by that. “You know, there’s hardly anything in the histories about demons. Even Nico hasn’t met one. I’m certain he’d like to meet you, if you’re willing.”

  By the way things were going, revealing her heritage to the leader of the Strigoi Echelon might be the only way she’d get any answers. But that would be a last resort, since she was sure Nico would want a lot more information than she was willing—or able—to give.

  She had to get back on track. “I’m a member of an underground organization that seeks out descendants of demons. I haven’t shared this with you before because its existence is a closely guarded secret. The Elite plug any leaks by destroying not only the source, but also anyone connected to that source.”

  “But?” Octavia prompted.

  “But,” Bella repeated, “I suspect the vampire who recently attempted to assassinate an archangel used a sword that could now be in this organization’s possession.”

  “Ah.”

  “I won’t ask you anything. But if you can confirm any of my suspicions, that would be helpful.”

  Octavia was silent. Bella held her breath. Finally, her friend spoke.

  “This castle belonged to Sakarbaal. He arose at least three thousand years ago in ancient Phoenicia. I’m here working to unravel the—” she hesitated, as if unsure whether to confide or not, “distasteful experiments he undertook. I’m not investigating the attack on Azrael when he and Nate fought the vampire, or the whereabouts of a sword that was able to sever the wing from an archangel.”

  A shiver skated over her arms at the graphic image that flashed through her mind. The friend Nate had told her about. No wonder he’d sounded so horrorstruck.

  No. She couldn’t afford to extend him any measure of empathy. Azrael was the slayer of dhampirs, and Nate would destroy her without a second thought if he discovered who she really was.

  Would he, though?

  She dug her nails into her palms to focus her thoughts. The Archangel Nathanael was a hunter of demon kind. He’d already tried to crush the Watchers once. She couldn’t afford to forget it, even if every time she was in his company she did.

  And then the rest of Octavia’s words penetrated.

  When he and Nate fought the vampire.

  Nate had been here when Azrael was attacked. He may have been one of the last to see the sword. Did he know where it was?

  Did he take it?

  Octavia was still waiting for her response. She reeled her spinning thoughts back into line, unwilling to plunge her friend into an untried conspiracy theory. “I don’t know how the sword could disappear from here and end up in my organization’s possession.”

  “What makes you so sure that’s where it is?”

  It was what Eblis suspected. But if he’d been aware of Nate’s involvement in the destruction of Sakarbaal, would Eblis still suspect the Watchers?

  “I’ve heard rumors,” she said, not wanting to share Eblis’ connection or her own suspicions.

  Octavia regarded her. “Does Nate know who you are?”

  “That would be a no.”

  “And you’re not involved?”

  “I’m not in any danger of falling for him, if that’s what you mean.” First Eblis, and now Octavia. Did she have a sign over her head, proclaiming her to be a complete idiot?

  “I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he was looking at you downstairs.”

  “What?”

  Octavia shrugged. “He’s hooked up with a couple of our warriors in the past. And he’s never—” she hesitated, clearly trying to find the right words. Bella could think of a few choice ones. “This sounds ludicrous even inside my own head. But he had a definite protective air about him. Almost possessive.”

  She had the scary urge to laugh. Except this wasn’t funny. “You’re right. That’s ludicrous.”

  “I’m saying you need to be careful, Bella. If he suspects you’ve been playing him, he could dispose of you without a second thought.”

  “Thanks for that. But I’d already worked that one out.”

  Worry shrouded Octavia’s face. “Be careful.”

  She had every intention of being careful. And emerging from the other side of this assignment intact.

  And that included her heart.

  Chapter 9

  Bella

  This was absolutely one of the worst ideas she’d ever had.

  A date with an archangel was one thing. But going on t
he date with the sole aim of getting Nate to admit to stealing the sword was bordering on certifiable.

  But his involvement in the fight with Sakarbaal wasn’t the only thing she’d learned from Octavia. Unlike the impression Eblis had given her, not every “true immortal” considered all vampires to be nothing more than bloodsuckers at the bottom of the hierarchy.

  Nate and Nico were friends. And while she was sure there was an element of professional give and take in their relationship, it seemed to be built on mutual trust.

  It didn’t matter how much she wished otherwise. Nate was an enigma. Despite what she knew about him, he continually made her question everything.

  And now here she was, in a gorgeous fifteenth century guesthouse, with a room that boasted a view of a secluded market square, just so that Nate wouldn’t become suspicious of her travel arrangements.

  This afternoon she’d arrived in Romania with the intention of going back to London after speaking with Octavia, but meeting Nate had thrown that plan out of the window. Especially when he’d asked her out again. So she’d tracked down this guesthouse, and after she’d secured the room, she’d teleported home, so she could pick up some clothes and essentials.

  The kind of things a regular human would take with her for an overnight business trip.

  She pulled on her coat, then hesitated over her beret. She’d been completely ridiculous and had spent ages curling her hair and didn’t want to spoil the effect.

  Seriously. She was concerned about messing up her hair? Anyone would think she cared what Nate thought about her appearance.

  She left her beret on the bed and went downstairs. A Gothic arch led to the small reception room with its faded, reproduction, eighteenth century sofas and standing by the door, taking up most of the space and all her oxygen, was Nate.

  His slow smile when he caught sight of her caused liquid flame to unfurl between her thighs. Mentally, she gritted her teeth. If there was one thing she was sure about, it was that there would be no sex happening tonight.

  Why did you bring condoms in your luggage, then?

  Her libido ignored her good advice, and prickles of awareness danced over her skin as Nate strolled across the room to her. His shirt was opened at the throat, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of bronzed flesh, and his long winter coat gave him a seductively dangerous appearance.

  Her eyes focused on his boots as he stood before her. “Hey,” he said, his husky tone a blatant invitation to sin.

  Her mouth dried and she dragged her besotted gaze to his face. It should be illegal for an archangel to be so breathtakingly gorgeous. He’d pulled his hair into a loose knot at the back of his head and his dark eyes ensnared her, promising to fulfil every wicked fantasy she’d ever imagined.

  And then some.

  Breathe.

  She sucked in air, which didn’t help mobilize her brain since the subtle scent of cedar, patchouli and spicy saffron scrambled her senses. She had the debasing desire to fling her arms around his powerful shoulders and to hell with the rest of the world.

  “Hi.” She sounded breathless, needy, and desperate for his touch. But at least she’d managed to speak, which was a minor miracle in itself. “You look tasty.”

  No. Wait. Had she actually said that out loud?

  “So do you.” He caressed the end of one of her curls between his finger and thumb and yet again her lungs forgot their primary function. “Like a vision from Ama-gi.”

  “Ama-gi?” She’d never heard the word before, and couldn’t immediately place what language it was, but it rippled through her, somehow familiar. As though understanding shimmered on a long-lost forgotten horizon.

  This time there was an indefinable hint of sadness in his smile. It was utterly bewitching. “A place I knew a long time ago.” He released her hair and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. She really shouldn’t be enjoying this so much. “I found a great little restaurant just down the road.”

  They left the guesthouse and walked along the narrow, cobblestone street. Thankfully, it had stopped raining so at least her hair wouldn’t be ruined. Stop obsessing about my bloody hair.

  Against her better judgment, she stole a sideways glance at his face. His profile was harshly beautiful, the perfect visage of an immortal warrior, and his earring glinted in the silver light from the moon.

  “Verdict?” He didn’t look at her, but his lips quirked with amusement.

  She was behaving like a starstruck mortal. The oddest thing was, she didn’t care that he’d caught her admiring him.

  Don’t forget…

  Yeah, she wasn’t likely to forget who he was. It didn’t mean she couldn’t appreciate his physical attributes.

  “Still tasty,” she said, as they turned into a side alley, where a covered stairway tunneled up the hill.

  “If you want to skip dinner, I’m fine with that.”

  “I’ve not eaten all day. I might pass out.”

  “In that case, we’ve arrived.” They emerged from the stairway. From this vantage point, the village lights glittered at the foot of the hill, and in the distance, she could just about see the black silhouette of Sakarbaal’s castle.

  Nate pushed open the door to a restaurant, and the aroma that wafted out made her stomach rumble. They found a table by one of the windows and moonlight cast a sinister glow across the distant castle. Had Nate picked this table by design?

  He helped her with her coat, which was ridiculously charming, and she draped it over the back of her chair.

  A teenage girl ambled over, ready to take their order.

  “Could we have a few moments, please?” Bella smiled at her, before picking up the menu.

  “Your Romanian is perfect.” Nate sounded impressed.

  “It’s a gift.” Her voice was dry.

  “How many languages do you speak?”

  “How many are there?” Whoa, what was she doing? She never drew attention to her abilities.

  “Current or archaic?”

  “I’m not that gifted.”

  He leaned back in his chair, and belatedly she realized they’d just spoken in Mandarin. Well, fine. It wasn’t a crime to be a polyglot. She offered him a sweet smile and switched to Russian. “You’re quite gifted yourself, I see.”

  “You fascinate me, Isabella.” He reverted to English, and his dark eyes glowed with admiration. Sensual awareness rippled through her, warm like molten honey, and twice as tempting. It was an effort to keep the smile on her face, when she desperately needed to suck air into her deprived lungs. “I’ve never met anyone like you before.”

  Coming from an archangel, that was really saying something. And he probably wasn’t wrong, either.

  “Likewise.” And wasn’t that the truth, too.

  They were interrupted by the arrival of the girl again, and after they gave their order, she couldn’t help glancing at the castle. It perched there, on a nearby hill, like a physical manifestation of the secrets and half-lies that lay between Nate and her.

  An odd pain squeezed her chest. It was bad enough that he was an archangel. But why did he have to be the worst one?

  “How long have you known Octavia?”

  She couldn’t tell him the truth. Her ageing process had frozen when she was twenty-eight, but she’d known her friend for decades. He’d think she was either lying or come dangerously close to guessing her secret. “Years.”

  “I was surprised to see you at the castle. It’s all top-secret shit over there.”

  He hadn’t asked her an outright question, but it was there, under the surface. She could pretend ignorance. He probably thought she had no idea what was going on. But just how much would he share with her, if he thought she was a completely oblivious human?

  She wouldn’t betray Octavia’s confidences. But what would happen if she let him know she was aware of the other world that existed, right in front of humanity’s unseeing senses?

  It was a gamble. She might lose a lot more than she stood to gain. But it was
a calculated risk she was prepared to take. Besides, she didn’t have a choice if she wanted to find out what he knew about the sword.

  “I don’t know what’s going on at the castle. But I know I’m not of the same race as Octavia.”

  His intense gaze was mesmeric. She struggled not to fall beneath his spell. Remember your goal.

  “What race might that be?” His voice was low, hypnotic. Inviting her to lay bare her soul.

  How easy that would be. She was almost tempted. Somehow, she managed to claw back a sliver of common sense before she spilled out her heart and signed her death warrant.

  She leaned over the table and watched, entranced, as he did the same. Their breath mingled and his eyes were black with desire. Her voice came out in a husky whisper. “A race that humans would fear if they knew it was more than a myth.”

  It was safer that he imagined she was speaking of Octavia. Even if she was referring to herself.

  “You told me you don’t believe in fairy tales. Yet you know of the true stories behind them.”

  “Yes. But those aren’t the stories that are told, are they?”

  “How did you discover the truth?”

  It was an effort to break the spellbinding web he was so easily spinning around her. If she didn’t keep a grasp on reality, she’d end up telling him everything she shouldn’t. “It’s my turn to ask a question. How long have you known supernatural races live on Earth?”

  His eyes crinkled as he smiled.

  “I’ve always known. But I haven’t met many—” He bit off his words, as though reconsidering what he’d been about to say. “Others who do.”

  Humans. That was what he’d almost said. And while he hadn’t, obviously, told her the whole truth, he still hadn’t lied.

  If only he had. It would make it much easier for her to despise him. Heat rushed through her. What was she thinking?

  I should hate him.

  Not only because of the way he’d hunted demon bloods throughout history, although that was bad enough. It was more personal than that.

  There was only one place where she and others of her mixed-race heritage could find the answers to their past. Where they could discover they weren’t freaks or slowly losing their minds. Somewhere they could speak freely of their immortal lineage with others who understood.