He needed to discover how Isabella had known an immortal forged sword had been used in an assassination attempt on an archangel. Had someone leaked it online?
Half an hour later, he was still searching. But he’d found nothing. At least, nothing credible that Isabella would take notice of. So how did she know?
He switched to the interstellar equivalent, the supercharged highway that connected the technologically advanced planets in the Andromeda Galaxy. But it was halfhearted, since there was no way she’d be able to access it from the primitive connection on Earth.
Frustrated, he leaned back in his chair and narrowed his eyes at the screen.
There was another way he could try. The telepathically advanced civilization where he’d acquired this laptop had installed additional technology that could only be accessed by a genetic mind print.
He went into telepathic mode, and the crystal globe that ostensibly served as a mouse blazed into rainbow bright life. Seemingly random images and texts scrolled over the screen, but there was a pattern, if it could just be found.
There was always a pattern.
A single word caught his eye and he froze the stream. Inanna.
Frowning, he scanned the archaic article. It told him nothing he didn’t already know about Inanna and the glorious cult she’d inspired and once enjoyed on Earth. Many of the minor gods and goddesses had returned to the planet, when humankind had crawled from the remnants after the great devastation. They’d enjoyed a golden age of worship from the primitive mortals.
Moments later, a dozen images flashed over the screen. Mountains and valleys, and great cities that had fallen into ruin.
What the hell. It was a potted history of Mesopotamia. Where Inanna’s cult had once thrived.
And where, Astrid had told him, her immortal forged sword had spent the last millennium.
Hell.
A couple of centuries ago he’d discovered a group of demon spawn styling themselves as the Watchers who had appropriated Inanna’s ancient temple within the Zagros mountains. Since watching was basically all they did, he’d left them alone. After all, demon spawn who possessed the kind of power to destabilize world governments and cause untold chaos would hardly hang around with a horde of such diluted bloods.
But what if he’d been wrong?
About one hundred years ago he’d tried to enter the mountain, to see what they were up to. He’d been greeted by a group of demon spawn who could obviously see right through his glamour and had no intention of allowing him access.
He could’ve taken them on, no problem. But since he’d wanted to check out the place without drawing attention, the plan failed at the first hurdle.
And so he’d kept them in his peripheral. But as the years went by with no ripples, he’d all but forgotten about them. He hunted half-blood zealots, who possessed the power to obliterate civilizations if left unchecked, not a bunch of randoms whose greatest ability appeared to be seeing through a glamour.
Yet all along, the sword that Dagan had stolen from Astrid had been buried in the Zagros mountains where demon spawn now worshipped with their blood-soaked rites.
The germ of a plan stirred.
Astrid, are you at home?
She didn’t answer right away, so he dug deeper into the shadowy sect. There wasn’t much online, which threw up a massive red flag in his brain. The internet was overflowing with conspiracy theories and alleged supernatural abilities. But when it came to this particular group, it was as though they didn’t exist. He doubted they didn’t have an online presence, which meant they communicated outside of the regular Net.
Shit.
He sifted through buried memories. He’d first become aware of them during the Vernal Equinox.
And the Equinox was tomorrow. That meant they’d be there. Question was, would Dagan be joining them?
His half-formed plan solidified. But it was useless without Astrid’s assistance.
Finally, she responded.
Yes
He teleported to her beach. Even if she couldn’t help him, he still needed to see her, so he could give her the phial that contained a wisp of the Guardians’ atmosphere. She stood at the entrance to her home and watched him stride across the black sand to her. He hoped he wasn’t too late.
“Have you destroyed the sword yet?”
“Why?”
“It might be the only way to gain entry to a demon spawn lair.”
“You’ve discovered the whereabouts of Dagan?”
“I may have.”
“Tell me what you know.”
He gave her a brief overview of the Watchers. And then took a chance. “You told me the sword’s history has permeated the fabric of its soul. Can you extract that essence and use it to camouflage my presence? Corrupt it somehow, so I pass as a demon?”
She was silent, her wings rippling in a nonexistent breeze, as she contemplated his request. “You appear certain the sword is still intact.”
“Am I wrong?”
Astrid exhaled a deep sigh. “No. But I believe there’s a better way to ensure you remain undetected.”
Chapter 16
Bella
The atrium was a magnificent structure, situated above the temple but still protected on all sides by the outer shell of the mountain. It was here, before the rest of the Watchers, the new recruits proved their worthiness to join their ranks.
Tonight, beneath the star-studded sky, they weren’t the only ones on trial. To prove her commitment to the Elite, she had been assigned to preside over the initiation ceremony. If she fucked up, the Elite wouldn’t let her forget it.
She had no intention of fucking up.
The atrium was fashioned like a small amphitheater with the five thousand members seated around the circular platform. She stepped up to the altar, and a hush settled. Centuries ago, an eight-pointed star had been seared into the stone at her feet, and thick candles in ornate holders sat on the altar, throwing flickering light across the marble slab.
Nijah stepped forward to address the crowd. Her long ebony hair cascaded to her waist, and rubies glittered on her delicate golden snood and the jewelry at her ears, throat and wrists. Together with her red figure-hugging outfit and flowing gold robe, she exuded power, wealth, and uncrushable pride.
“Welcome.” Her voice echoed around the atrium. “Once again we gather in the sacred mountain to celebrate our lineage and fortify our resolutions. For millennia we have been vilified, but our day is coming. We will rise again and avenge our unjust Fall from Grace.”
Cheers erupted, and Bella surreptitiously glanced at the new recruits sitting in the front row. Their eyes blazed with passion. Even after all these years, she remembered the first time she’d sat in this atrium and listened to the same speech. For the first time, she’d been with her people. She hadn’t been an outsider, a freak of nature, or a creature to be feared. Nijah’s words had never failed to inspire her with pride for her heritage, no matter how many times she heard them.
Except tonight a sense of foreboding twisted through her chest. It wasn’t because of the ceremony she had to perform. It was deeper than that.
It was a questioning of everything the Watchers had proclaimed. Meeting Nate had shown her that there was more to archangels than they’d been told. What else were they hiding?
“When the veil falls between the worlds, we shall claim justice for the wrongs inflicted upon our ancestors!” Nijah’s hair rippled and the rubies sparkled like drops of blood. Bella kept her face impassive but treacherous thoughts spilled through her mind.
They’d spoken of rebellion and victory for untold years. But they never did anything. For most of the members, just knowing there were others like themselves made the organization invaluable, but Nijah always gave the impression that was a minor, secondary, benefit. What was the purpose of the Watchers, really?
What does Eblis know that I don’t?
A shiver skated over her bare arms. To her knowledge, no full blood demon had
ever graced the Watchers annual gathering with their presence, never mind one of the originals who’d been created by the Alpha Goddess of antiquity.
Maybe the history she’d learned was true. That the Watchers was for only those who’d been born on Earth, and when their ranks reached an elusive, unspecified peak, the original demons would return and vindication would be theirs.
Or maybe not.
“Each one of us here is connected by our immortal bloodline.” Nijah swept her gaze around her captive audience before settling on the new recruits. “Some of you are more polluted by human stock than others but know this. If you’re accepted into our ranks tonight, you will forever be protected by our network.”
Once again cheers erupted, and only when the applause finally died down did she turn to face Bella. Nijah smiled at her, but there was no warmth in it, or in her flawlessly beautiful face.
“This is a great honor.” Nijah’s voice was low, for her ears only. “I hope you’re up to the challenge, Bella.”
“I am.”
“Good. Then our esteemed guest will not be disappointed.” She handed Bella the ceremonial athame. “Enjoy.” There was a thread of chilly amusement in her voice this time.
The metal hilt was warm against her palm as Nijah took her place by her side. Zane strode onto the platform and stood beside Bella, but as the first recruit was brought onto the platform, her mind whirled in a different direction.
What esteemed guest was Nijah talking about?
There was no time to cast a hurried glance across the crowd. She needed all her concentration for this. Zane stepped forward, power radiating from him, and fear flashed across the newbie’s face.
She almost felt sorry for him, except it was never acceptable to show fear. Whoever had discovered him should have made that crystal clear. Another thought struck her. Gods, she hoped her first one survived the initiation. Occasionally, a weak link slipped through, and the result was devastating. Because anyone who failed this ultimate test was not only denied membership.
They forfeited their life.
“Do you trust in the powers of your forebears?” Zane’s voice was low but echoed around the atrium.
“Yes,” the newbie whispered. Zane placed a ceremonial bowl on the altar, a useless piece of theater she’d never understood, and led the man to her.
He swallowed, before turning his back on her. For a second, she fought against the irrational urge to flee. If she didn’t go through with this, the Elite who wanted to dispose of her would have the perfect excuse.
This was merely a rite of passage they all undertook. There was no danger unless a new recruit’s abilities had been fatally misjudged. Although she’d never done this before, she’d witnessed it countless times. All she needed was a steady hand and cool precision.
She took a deep breath, gripped his hair, and pulled his head back.
Cut the veins, not the windpipe.
Because if she messed this up, it wouldn’t just be the newbie who would forfeit their life. She’d be on the chopping block too.
Nate
Nate teleported a short distance from the Zagros mountains where, centuries ago, Inanna’s cult had flourished. There was nothing to distinguish this particular mountain from the rest in the magnificent range that divided the land for almost a thousand miles. A mortal could live their entire life in the surrounding valleys without the faintest idea an infestation of demon spawn had stolen a goddess’ temple for their own uses.
It was late evening and starlight speckled the cloudless sky. He strode to the base of the mountain. Its entrance was concealed by a glamour, but since it was a relatively low level one it only worked on mortals. Stone columns flanked the reinforced steel doorway and a couple of demon spawn were on guard.
He halted some distance before them. Unlike the last time he’d tried to gain access, these guards didn’t immediately confront him with aggression and threats. Probably because this time he hadn’t thrown up a low-level glamour that rendered him all but unnoticeable to mortals but which they’d immediately seen through. They appeared not to know what to make of his appearance and he didn’t miss the quick glance they threw each other.
Clearly, they were communicating by telepathy. He curled his lip, a threatening gesture they didn’t miss. Astrid had been right. She hadn’t needed to extract anything from the sword.
Just having it at his hip was enough to distort his archangelic radiance into demonic darkness.
His hunch had been right. The sword had spent untold centuries within the goddess’ temple. The question was— had Dagan given the sword to Sakarbaal, or had the vampire somehow stolen it?
“Name,” one of them said.
Nate made his eyes glow crimson and unfurled his wings. It was a cheap trick, but it worked. The guard backed up, clearly unnerved. Like archangels, only full blood demons possessed wings, a unique genetic gift created by their cursed goddess. Nate took another step toward them.
“I’m from the Demonic High Council.” He had no idea if they’d even heard of the Council, and it didn’t matter since the term was self-explanatory. “Checking shit out. Finally got around to Earth.” He swept his gaze over them. “Hope you didn’t send a message to anyone inside.” It was a blatant threat.
“No.” There was a hint of wariness in his tone as though Nate’s comment didn’t quite make sense. Not that he had time to question it.
Never trust a demon.
“Keep it that way, and you’ll keep your heads.”
The guards retreated and the door swung open. As he strode inside, the guard added, “Nijah’s expecting you.”
Interesting. He didn’t deign to answer as he swept his glance around the temple. Curved columns had been carved out of the stone, and arched doorways led to various parts of the structure. Light flooded the interior, but there was nothing as primitive as candles or torches in sconces. Clearly, they’d set up a generator to power the electricity.
“They’re in the atrium,” the guard called. “The elevator’s to your right.”
The elevator? While not all demon spawn could teleport, why did the guard think he’d need to use such a thing? Then again, although he wasn’t hiding his presence, he didn’t want to land in the middle of their Equinox ceremony. A measure of discretion wasn’t a bad idea. He was here to observe, after all.
He changed direction and found the elevator, an iron construction with several buttons on the interior wall for the various levels. He hit the top one. So far, this wasn’t living up to his expectations of a demon spawn lair. Although it did prove his longstanding suspicion that the Watchers posed no real danger in the great scheme of things.
Except Nijah, who had been their leader a century ago when he’d first uncovered their existence and still appeared to be their leader now, was expecting him.
Obviously, not him. She was expecting a full blood demon.
Dagan.
Anticipation flooded through his blood as the door opened to an amphitheater that was barely half full of spectators. Their attention was riveted on the central circular platform, where three demon spawn stood. From this angle he could only see their backs, but he recognized Nijah when she turned her head to speak to the one beside her.
A frisson of unease electrified his senses as he frowned at the female standing in the middle. She wore a blood red dress that clung to her curves and fell to her feet and glittered in the flickering glow of the ceremonial candles. An elaborate headdress covered her hair and half of her back, concealing any glimpse of her face.
Eyes narrowed, he watched her pull back the head of a woman and slit her throat. Blood spurted, and the woman collapsed to her knees as a deathly hush fell across the crowd. After a moment, the woman stood, her injury healed. She raised her arms in victory, and cheers erupted.
An effective, if primitive, way of ensuring no mortals attempted to infiltrate their ranks.
He cast a steely glance around. The air was oppressive with the scent of demon spa
wn. He couldn’t tell if Dagan was here, mingling in the crowd.
His gaze returned to the high-ranking female who was undertaking the initiations.
She lifted the knife, exposing a slim wrist. The motion was familiar and he frowned. It almost reminded him of Isabella.
Irritation seared through him. There was no fucking way a demon spawn reminded him of Isabella. He swung away and made his way back to the elevator.
He needed to find the heart of the temple, where the Watchers kept their archives. There was a link between the demon, and the demonic traces he’d sensed at Isabella’s club. And tonight he was going to unearth it.
Chapter 17
Bella
The headdress was killing her. Bella focused on the far wall of the atrium, but the blood splattered across the floor and the altar burned into her brain, regardless.
Thank all the damn gods the initiations were over. She could blame the heavy, ceremonial headdress all she liked, but the reason why her head throbbed, and eyes ached had nothing to do with the archaic outfit Nijah had insisted she wear.
Her fingers clenched around the athame, and she carefully placed it on the altar before she did something unforgiveable, such as drop it. The stench of spilled blood and the cloying incense from the candles filled her nose, and dizziness swum through her. So far, she’d managed to keep her face blank and back rigid, but if she didn’t get out of here soon, she was going to fucking scream.
“Excellent work,” Zane murmured in her ear. “Consider your promotion into the Elite approved.”
At least this ordeal hadn’t been in vain. “Good.”
“One day you must share your reasoning for keeping this a secret for so long.”
She wasn’t sure if that was a request or a thinly veiled demand. And it didn’t really matter, since she was just as powerful as Zane even though he didn’t know it.
“Maybe,” she conceded. “But right now, I could do with a stiff whiskey.”
Salvation: A Realm of Flame and Shadow Novel Page 15