by JL Madore
“That’s it? He beckons, and you run?”
Ayana frowned. “He’s a freaking Archangel, Ren. What do you suggest we do, hang out in the Human Realm and make friends? Gross. Bad enough, I had to spend my evening here last night. Now, come or stay, I don’t care.”
Ayana burst into a spray of gold mist, and Ren thought about her suggestion. Stay and make friends? She’d like to make friends with that warrior. She laughed at the impossibility of that. If the man had no sexual inclinations toward Ayana, she had no hope in heaven.
“Home, it is.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Austin kissed Ringo’s forehead, set the guitar on his desk, and closed the door behind her. The boy was wore out and dog tired. At least he was back in his own bed and drifting off for a good night’s sleep. With Stetson at her side, the two of them climbed one flight of stairs, and followed the corridor to its end, to the suite of the Egyptian twins and their mates.
It was Friday night movie bonanza.
Stetson’s tail thumped against her pant leg as they walked and she scrubbed his ear. Though she didn’t use him as a guide dog within the house, he would always be her steadfast companion. Lighthearted laughter and the smell of buttered popcorn welcomed them.
The wives were all there, except Layne, who was downstairs in the war room with Tanek, watching Bo and the others go after the Rugaru. Again. Hopefully for the last time.
“How is he?” Thea asked.
Austin took her place between the angel and Storme and settled in. “He was asleep before I made it to the hall.”
“It was a tough day for him.”
“It was tough for all of them,” Cassi said, sitting in one of the club chairs, her feet tucked up under her skirt.
“Hark looked wrecked,” Storme added. “He’s a man of few words, but you could see it in his eyes.”
Austin accepted the massive bowl of popcorn placed in her lap and helped herself. “It’s hard to see your little brother suffer.”
Storme patted her leg. “Especially because they consider themselves indestructible. Seeing one of their own go down is a reminder that out of the blue, things can change.”
“Does Drina know why it happened?” Cassi asked.
“Not that I’ve heard. Zander said she ran a million tests. I’m sure she’ll know more by morning. Could someone please text the boys and let them know he loved the guitar? He turned in with a big goofy smile on his face.”
“I’m on it,” Ronnie said.
Austin sat back and got ready for movie night. She loved Romcoms. Not only did she love that true love won out in the end, the stories were told more by words than by action. They made it easier for her to enjoy when she couldn’t see the screen. And the ladies described anything she needed to know that was happening.
Zander climbed up toward the exposed metal rafters of the warehouse. Wedged between a dirty as shit, concrete wall and a stack of wooden shipping crates, his mobility was limited. His fingers, callused after millennia of physical labor, didn’t register the sharp edges and splinters. What pissed him off was how long it was taking. With one hefty push on his wings, he could’ve launched clear of the top of the storage boxes and landed silently, sixty-five feet above the enemy. The space was too tight, so he had to be patient.
Patience was not his best event.
He chuckled at himself. As an instant gratification kinda guy, his wings made his life that much easier. Maybe too easy.
If Austin were there, she’d say he was spoiled.
He lifted himself over the top edge and rolled to his feet. Normally, Taharqa took the high road and provided cover. Tonight, that fell on him. The Moor’s gift from the Choir was perfect accuracy. If he could take the shot, he could make the shot. Zander might not possess an enchanted gift for perfect aim, but of the nine of them, he was next best.
His target was Linsale.
Take the commander, and the minions floundered.
“Zander’s in position,” Tanek said into their ear. “I’ve got full visual and comm. You’re a go from tactical.”
“Get these assholes,” Layne said, over the same line. Her hatred-filled voice bled frustration they knew weighed on her since her nephew’s murder. “And be safe.”
No one responded.
The five of them were in position above the last known Red Metal Rebellion rebels—the Rugaru.
Ha, say that five times fast.
Zander eased to the edge and took in the deets. Using hand signals, he highlighted what they were dealing with to Bo, Phoenix, Kyrian, and Danel. Two by the north door. Three by the south. Seven in the center mass.
Danel and Bo were on the exits. He and Kyrian were taking the rest. This wasn’t a battle; it was an extermination. They adopted the whole “we won’t negotiate with terrorists” mentality after the war targeted their families: Stryker letting his men feed on Austin, the Serpentines bleeding Thea dry while they made off with her newborn, trespassing onto the racetrack property to come after their family as a whole. Yeah, that sealed their fates.
Come at our family and die.
There was honor in fighting for what you believed. There was no honor in targeting the innocent.
Lifting his fist into the air, he gave the count.
Three. Two. One.
Zander drew a gun in each hand and started cleaning up the world. The warehouse lit up with all the best kind of sights and scents. Linsale went down like a stone. He got two more before his brothers crossed his line of fire.
Stepping off the edge, he spread his wings and landed in the mix. The assault was textbook, their precision as a killing squad legion.
“Count ’em off,” Zander said, scanning the bodies.
Rugaru were a scary-hairy race. Too tall and wolf-like to pass as human, they weren’t supposed to inhabit urban centers. Yes, they could throw out a glamor to not be so obvious, but it was risky. They’d been night-shadowing it in hoodies and cloaks, and that needed to end.
“Twelve,” Kyrian said.
“Done deal,” Danel said, sheathing his gun and exchanging it for his dagger. “Heads will roll.”
And with that, they all got to work decapitating the dead.
Since he had the first shots, Zander waited for his Quickening to hit. After dispatching evil, the filigree history of his kills burned ice-hot, and the souls of his kills etched their way into his flesh. His Mark would expand across his shoulder blade or down his side. And when the branding ended, the transfer of power would worm into his eyes, ears, and nostrils.
He despised the violation and locked himself down.
But nothing happened.
Shaking his head, he looked down at the bodies. “Is anyone taking on the dead?”
His boys looked as baffled as he. In two thousand years, there had never been an exception. Kill them. Decapitate them. Entrap their tainted souls within.
A ringing in the air had him looking around. “What’s going, boys? I’m getting a bad feeling here.”
His brothers bent to reexamine the bodies.
The high-pitched ring ramped up to a shrill screech, and his mind sped up. Where was it coming from? What did they miss?
“Let’s step outside until we—”
An explosion let off and a pulse of magic radiated through the warehouse. It hurled him through the air, ass over ears. The world fragmented into blinding pain, and then . . . darkness won the battle.
At the same time, downtown, Brennus ducked under the police tape and entered the eerie Victorian mansion. The human investigators had cleared out, but he sensed Colt’s presence and a couple of his Darkworld cleaners inside. “Hello, the house. Where is everyone?”
“In here, Celt,” said his mate.
He followed his husband’s voice through a grand parlor to a dining room that looked like the historic area had projectile-vomited in every direction. The room dripping in powder blue and gold, had his eyes bouncing from the busy damask wallpaper to the folds of the heavily draped wi
ndows, to a gigantic, gaudy crystal chandelier monstrosity over the table.
Clasping palm to palm, they pulled it in to bump chests and give a shoulder clap as they had for the past decade. Not everyone knew or needed to know they mated. For all anyone in the Otherworld knew, he spontaneously sprouted seven-foot ebony wings for no reason at all.
Of course, humans couldn’t see them.
And by the widened stares hitting him from the Djinn and the Necromancer in the corner, they thought his new flight appendages were badass.
Smart males.
“What have ye here, Cop?” he asked, momentarily distracted by the sexy visage of his husband. “Why call in the big guns?”
Colt’s grin quirked up at one side. “Cocky fucker. Are you considering yourself the big gun in that statement? While you do indeed possess a fine weapon of mass destruction, I happen to have a very big gun myself.”
Brennus chuckled, registering the confusion in the faces of the two Darkworlders on Colt’s cleanup team. “Is this you bein’ modest, Cop? Or is this discreet? ‘Cause I cannae tell.”
“I’m multitasking.”
Seth tilted his head back and groaned. “Not this again.”
Colt snorted. “What? A male should be able to defend his own weaponry. My gun is as big, if not bigger, than his.”
“Demon stop,” Seth said.
Colt laughed. “You want me to prove it?”
When Colt went for his belt, Seth drew his gun. He twisted it sideways, gangsta style, and aimed at his Ice Demon. “Don’t make me shoot you, Colt. It won’t kill you now that you’re all jacked up with an Ice God, but it’ll make me feel a fuck-ton better.”
Colt flipped up his palms. “Techy, techy. Since when did you get so sensitive about verbal indecencies, Egyptian? You can dish it, but you can’t take it?”
“No. After a decade of you being a tough-assed bastard and friend, you’re now all gooey about one of my brothers. Not cool. When we’re working, be Cop. Death. Murder. Mayhem. And what we need to do to cover this shit up.”
Brennus followed Seth’s gesture to the three dead witches strapped to their dining chairs. Huh. “It says a lot about the horror of this room that I dinnae notice the dead bodies.”
“I know, right?” Colt laughed, grimacing at the décor.
“All right, then,” he said, catching the daggered looks of impatience Seth was stabbing them with. “Simmer down, Seth, we’re getting’ back to the problem at hand. Run it down fer me, Cop. What am I lookin’ at?”
Colt flipped back into detective mode and got to work. “I’m guessing this is a family coven. Here, we have a lovely couple eating their breakfast of what looks like crow. Or maybe it’s a raven. I can never tell those apart. Although, ‘eating raven’ has no symbolic meaning that I’m aware of, so I’m going with crow.”
He studied the platter in the center of the table, and yep, a large, black-feathered bird lay there, looking up at them. “Someone has a sense of humor, aye?”
“Or thinks they do,” Seth said.
A ringing sound across the room had him looking over at one of Colt’s men. By his Otherworld mojo, the male was a Necromancer. “I’ve got something here,” he said, pointing to the lavish buffet at the end of the table. “There’s a dose of magic building up in here.”
The ringing gained volume and started to scream. When the male reached down to open the hutch, Brennus focused on the energy and shouted. “No. Stop—”
The room exploded in a blast of power. Colors blinded. The world thundered. One moment, Brennus stood in a macabre crime scene; the next, he was face down on a needlepoint rug, struggling to breathe, with a Victorian house raining down on top of him.
A second later, another explosion went off.
Everything went dark.
Tanek stared at the black monitor screens before him and toggled his mouse to transfer from one warrior’s video view to the next. This comms center was state of the art, his equipment the finest Zander’s endless supply of money could buy. So, why was he staring at a big black void?
“They can’t be all down.” His fingers clicked on keys as fast as he could input data. “Brennus and Seth aren’t even on the same call.”
“What just happened?” Layne said, leaning in.
Tanek straightened, his machinery giving him no love at all. “I have no fucking idea, but it’s not good.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Instead of waiting idly for Ayana to return from Michael’s summons, Ren headed to the Golden Palace to tend to her heavenly duties. Cherubim were known as the guardians of the Choir. Not warrior guardians like the Archangels, Seraphim, or Nephilim. Cherubim guarded the “heavenliness” of things. The ethereal brilliance of sites and artifacts, the celestial divinity of throne rooms and meeting places, the hallowed reverence of Lady Divinity’s home and domain.
The tasks might seem small, but the honor was great.
And so, she cleaned, straightened, mended, and polished.
Her stocky frame might not fit her sister’s image for sultry seduction, but it was exactly the norm for a Cherub. And here, working alongside the others, she belonged. She was strong and fit and capable and respected for the work she did.
Valued for who she was not in spite of who she wasn’t.
From the seam of marble tile and tromp l’oeil walls to the arched murals of the rotunda above, any space within her care was given the utmost love and attention. Nothing fell to age and ruin under her watch.
“Ren, blessed be.”
Ren dropped to one knee and bowed her head at the serene song of their sweet Lady’s voice. “Blessed be, milady.”
“Stand, child. Please, join me.”
Ren rose but kept her gaze down. Lady Divinity ranked as her favorite person in the realms, but that was no reason to become familiar. She followed the goddess to the marble ledge surrounding the reflection pool and sat when prompted.
“Tell me, Ren. Was it you who mended the catch in the woodland tapestry in my library?”
Ren’s heart raced faster. “It was, milady. I realize the thread chosen for the smallest deer wasn’t an exact match. I do apologize for that.”
“Nonsense,” she said, reaching beneath Ren’s chin and lifting her gaze. The touch of the ethereal mother’s finger to flesh send a warm tingle through her entire body. She met the warmth in the goddess’s eyes and relaxed. “The repair was thoughtful and beautifully executed. It warmed my heart to see my little fawn restored. In truth, I believe the slight mottling of browns in his coat adds to his beauty. I sought you out to tell you as much.”
Ren felt the heat of her blush warm her cheeks. “I am honored you are pleased, milady. Humbled and honored.”
“Your dedication and talents are appreciated,” she said. “I like you, Ren, a great deal. In the spirit of my affection, I wonder if I might set you on a new course. If you are amenable?”
Ren blinked up. “Of course, milady. Thy will be done. How may I be of service?”
Hark checked his phone on the way to meet up with Brennus and stopped dead. Somehow, he’d silenced the ringer and missed four calls from Tanek. The fact that he’d been redialing every couple of minutes didn’t bode well for the situation.
“Yeah, T. What’s up? Is it Ringo?”
“Hark! Thank fuck. No. The kid’s sleeping. Listen, you’re the only one online. I lost everyone else in a blinding flash twelve minutes ago. Two different locations. No one checking in. Where are you now?”
“Two blocks from Brennus,” he said, beating feet to close the distance. “Why didn’t you use the comms?”
“They went down with the blast.”
That couldn’t be good. And no one had checked in?
By the time he rounded the corner, his legs were pumping and the fire of adrenaline in his bloodstream was fueling his pace. It would’ve been quicker to dematerialize, but it was neither late enough nor remote enough to vanish on the fly without risking Otherworld exposure.
“Who’s checking the others?”
“Rayvn and Wilder.”
“Good. The dragons can handle—what the? Oh, sweet lady, no.” Hark stopped dead in his tracks and raised a hand to cover his mouth. Well, exposure wasn’t a question.
It was a full-blown reality.
Staring at the pink and gold flames rising sixty feet into the air, swirling in twists and glowing against the darkness of night, he had no idea where to begin.
“What, no?” Tanek said. “Hark, move your arm so I can see the scene.”
Hark scrubbed the back of his neck and took in the more than two hundred people crowded in a vacant lot across the road from the most massive magical fire he’d ever seen. Phones were recording. People were taking pictures. There was even a news van parked in the street reporting on the scene.
“Busted,” Tanek said.
“Wait! Stop!” Hark raced to block the firemen about to unleash their hoses on the flames. Getting between the end of the nozzle and the cotton-candy Disney blaze, he shook his head. “Don’t. Water will spread it. It won’t put it out.”
A couple of first responders attempted to pull him out of the way, but he evaded and held his position. “Trust me, gentlemen. I know you’re eager to do your job, but you’re out of your depths.”
“No, you’re out of your mind,” the lead man on the hose said, shifting to get around him.
Hark matched their movements and held up his hand. “I promise you, and I’m not. This isn’t any blaze you’ve faced. I have. Consider it a classified government experiment gone terribly wrong. T, where’s Phoenix?”
“He was in the house when it went up.”
He looked at the swirling blaze dancing so high overhead, and it almost cleared every building in the surrounding area. And perfect—now helicopters were flying overhead to take a look. “Exposure is a lost cause. The best I can do is find our magic man in the rubble and see if he can put this out.”