by V L Moon
Laziel’s absence couldn’t have come at a worse time. Arial hoped the mighty Seraphim returned before Malachi did too much damage to his already tenuous seat on the throne. He feared the vampire male’s ferociousness at the best of times, but with the angel gone, the tide of rage Malachi struggled to contain would be magnified tenfold, and aimed directly at Darklon and the worthless human servant who’d allied himself to the Elder vampire.
“Gabriel wishes to be turned. I’ve suspected as much for some time, but prayed that he’d find solace in his calling to our Lord. I failed him, and in doing so, I’ve pushed the limits of my good friend’s patience. Please pass on my regret to Malachi and let him know I will be here to offer assistance in any way I can. And Arial, if there is a way for you to contact Laziel, do so my child. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to address my own council concerning the shame our brother Gabriel has brought upon us.”
Arial watched silently as his old friend slowly took his leave. Disappointment and worry clearly etched his aged face. Arial felt his burden. As an angel and a Fallen, he’d devoted his life to the Creator, or God as the human race called him. Yet, he’d been cast aside, a forgotten child of celestial grace whose heart’s desire cost him the love of his Lord and the archaic expanse of his once beloved wings.
When he rose to take his leave, the room around him swam. He stumbled forwarded and fell hard against the solid stone altar of the Pope’s private chapel. His vision blurred and white spots danced behind his eyes. His chest heaved as the yawning ache of hunger rode over his senses, demanding he feed. The curse of his fate, his mother’s parting gift as his body was hurled from Heaven’s gates, tore through Arial’s veins churning his insides until beads of sweat marred his flesh. He’d waited too long between feeds.
Hell, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d fed. It disgusted him. What he was forced to do sent him to a place inside of himself where he dared not look too closely. A place where anger, pain and hate threatened to consume what was left of his angelic grace. The need to redeem himself ate at him even more when he fed. But, to find redemption meant finding the cause of his Fallen status.
Arial’s breath caught and he fought back the urge to bring that face back into the realm of his collective memory. But, he was weak; tired of the war between his head and his heart. He tried to breath, take in air, but all that registered was the sweet heady memory of a scorched, lingering kiss. Arial’s mind faltered and darkness pulled him back to that place in time when fingertips danced, burning over his skin until he trembled beneath their daring touch; the erotic taste of another’s mouth and the lips that continued to torture him through eternity.
A low menacing growl ripped from Arial’s chest and slipped free from between clenched teeth. He couldn’t go there. He refused to see the face that haunted his dreams. Swallowing the foul taste of bitter regret, he surged to his feet. He had a King to protect, a female to find and a fucking angel gone AWOL. He had to feed and fast. Securing a mental lock on the thoughts of his past life, Arial stalked through the passageway that linked Malachi to the Pope, and then detoured back to Laziel’s chapel.
The silence that greeted him reminded him of a tomb. Empty—desolate of life. The thought sent more slithers of unease along his ragged wing mounts. Creator, let him be safe. Bring that smart mouthed motherfucker back here where he belongs. Arial sent the prayer, knowing it would never be heard. He made his way recklessly though the obscure passage paved by Laziel and the king. It served them well and no one, not even the Pope knew of its existence within the vampire king’s enclave. As Arial stumbled through the dark, the infliction of his mother’s curse grew and his hunger spiked, clenching his gut and tearing him apart from the inside out.
Arial crashed through the secluded entry hidden within one of the many crypts of the Necropolis unearthed next to the Vatican. Cold rain kissed his heated face and Arial welcomed the chill of its touch as it ran over his wings and cooled his fevered need. He picked his way through the ancient, pagan tombstones. They seemed to reach out, pleading with him to take notice. The haunting stares of the few exposed skulls followed him as though they sensed the evil lurking within him. Their ghostly presence tempted him, calling him to feed and sin.
Arial lowered his gaze and moved silently into the night. He reached out with his senses and drew on the hunger that rode him. Within minutes, the acrid stench of sulfur reached him. Arial sucked the aroma into his lungs, using its scent to track his prey through the wet, empty streets. He knew when the demon he stalked sensed him. The taint of its fear lanced the putrid aroma and flavored the bouquet with a rich heavy spice.
Arial closed in swiftly. His speed gave him an edge when he spotted the demon as it shifted in the shadows. He smiled. His name was known in the demon realm, feared. And, rightly so. He held no pity for the minions of Lucifer.
Anticipating the demon’s moves, Arial shifted the bulk of his form and glided forward as though he moved on air. He traversed one of the many side streets, and positioned himself within the mouth of an alley some hundred yards in front of the demon’s route. He waited; hidden by the night’s gloom. Without fail, he’d chosen the right course, and he laughed low as his meal’s scent grew stronger. The gap between them closed.
In a swift grab, Arial reached out with one hand and clasped the demon by the throat. Heat seared through his palm and made his skin itch. The need to devour the noxious tang of its unholy soul nearly overpowered him. Wild with hunger, he twisted and rammed his paralyzed prey hard against the alley wall. The demon whimpered in his grasp. Arial squeezed tighter until the scent of its terror permeated the air. He was going to enjoy his meal. Fear always made what he was about to do so much more palatable. He hated the ones that fought back.
Using his free hand, Arial ran a clawed talon along the creature’s glistening flesh, and sighed as his mouth slowly descended to cover the wound. His hand rose to press against the demon’s mouth and silence its scream. The black tide of the demon’s soul poured into Arial, carried by the fetid blood. Sulfur’s acrid taint coated his tongue and throat. He moaned at the exquisite relief flowing through his veins.
In his arms, the demon shuddered and gave him one last look through wide red eyes before it faded away and evaporated into a pile of yellowed ash. Arial eyed the mess with disdain and brushed away the residue that clung to his rain soaked flesh. Immediately after taking his fill, the guilt and disgust at what he’d become rose from the depths to darken his heart and add to the weight of his deepening despair.
But this time, Arial pushed it away, shoved it into the darker part of his mind along with the life he used to have. He had a job to do and a female to find. And, where the fuck was Laz? A good question and an answer he had every intention of finding out.
His meal consumed, Arial turned on his heels and stalked from the mouth of the alley. His skin still itched. But, it wasn’t hunger crawling along his flesh; it was power. It washed over him like the gentle waves of an ocean lapping against the shore; familiar in the way it called to him. Arial concentrated on its magnetic essence and sensed a storm of rage seething behind it.
He pushed with his mind, hoping the energy hiding behind it belonged to Laziel. Instead, he watched in stunned disbelief as the enormous form of a motherfucking Nephilim descended from the night sky. The smooth rush of wings gliding above him sent a rush of wind and freezing rain slamming against him. The bastard was clearly intent on an up close and personal with him.
Arial eased into a crouch and prepared himself for the fight sure to come. They stood facing each other separated by less than ten feet. Energy radiated off of the Nephilim in waves. Yet, he felt no malice or evil intent; only the anger tinged with hurt and confusion. The latter two clouded the Nephilim’s wide, bright eyes so completely it shocked Arial to the core.
The Nephilim were the sworn enemies of the vampires. Their savagery and violent natures were infamous to any and all that fought alongside Malachi’s race. Yet, the powerhous
e of muscle standing so regally before him appeared almost serene. A little too calm for Arial’s comfort. The male stepped toward Arial with outstretched hands and eyes that drank in the whole of Arial’s larger form. When he spoke, the sound of the Nephilim’s voice resonated like a finely pitched tuning fork through Arial’s mind. It confused him.
Nephilim, the begotten children born from the union of Fallen Angels and human kind. He’d met them many times before, fought them alongside Laziel and the Vampire King, but never had Arial met one that called to him the way the male did. Arial eyed him curiously. The Nephilim male was tall and broad and stood at a little over six feet three. His bare chest was wide and packed with pads of well-defined muscle that rippled down into a hard taut abdominal wall. Even though the darkness embraced them, Arial easily made out the soft blonde waves of his hair as it stirred over heavily muscled shoulders. The bright gleam of his wide blue eyes pierced through the light fog starting to settle around them.
Arial stood mesmerized. In all the years he’d fought against them, he’d never come across one so beautiful, a trait the male had obviously inherited from his Fallen parent. Arial stared, unable to avert his eyes from the male’s face. Arial felt as though he already knew him. The sensation of familiarity didn’t make sense. Yet, he couldn’t deny the spark of recognition. From the look on his face, the Nephilim felt it too.
“You going to stand there staring at me all night? You’ll give me a fucking inferiority complex. What’s wrong? Have I grown horns or got a tail growing outta my ass?” The Nephilim chimed. His voice dripped with venom, but to Arial, the sound was as sweet as honey and just as smooth.
“I am Celix, and I take it from the look of your wings and that smug looking face you would be Arial?” Celix moved even closer, and Arial took two steps back. The fucker kept coming, seemingly intent on getting as close to Arial as he could. Arial growled in warning, and Celix openly smirked, as though he held no fear of what Arial could do.
”I’m going to take great pleasure in rearranging that pretty face of yours if you get any closer. Back. The. Fuck. Off. Right now.” Arial readied himself. At his sides, his giant fists clenched and ached with the need to pound some flesh. The sight and sounds of Celix flexing and opening his wings stopped him in his tracks. “What the fuck.”
Shocked at the magnificent display of the Nephilim’s finely arched wings, Arial stood dumbfounded. The shimmering pale yellow appendages rustled at Celix’s back. Smooth feathers lay perfectly aligned and matched the male’s fine blonde hair color. They framed his face and emphasized an already perfect and beautiful face.
“I’ve been watching you for a while,” Celix said. He tilted his head as if studying Arial. “Our Queen has expressed an interest in meeting you, a very strong interest. Though I’m not sure what she sees in you, I’m here to issue the invitation. Please do not think to reject her offer; she can be very persuasive if her demands are not met.” Celix turned and the expanse of his wings flared out around his shoulders and along his back. “Now if you will follow me, I will take you to our Queen.”
Arial didn’t move, but his eyes followed the male. The width of his wings was a sight to behold. They reminded him painfully of his own before his mother cursed him and his father cast him out. They bristled in readiness of flight and sent a breeze of sweet scented air to caress Arial’s senses. He recognized the fragrance immediately. Anger welled up inside his gut and leached into the black venomous blood circulating through his veins. The creature before him was without doubt a Nephilim. So, how in the name of the Creator could the bastard carry the scent of Arial’s Heavenly home?
He reached out and grabbed Celix by his wing mounts and slammed him against the grungy alley floor. Straddling the Nephilim, he locked him in place between his thighs. “I have no Queen, only the Creator, and I answer to no one’s call or whim.” He leaned close and growled. “Tell me, Nephilim, how does one like you carry the scent of my kin when we both know who and what you are? Are you fraternizing with a female celestial?”
Arial didn’t expect an answer. His spine curved even more as he ran his nose along Celix’s throat. A moan escaped at the honeydew aroma of his warm golden flesh. “Why do you smell like home? You are Nephilim, this cannot be so. This Queen you patsy for, she has beguiled you? Used you to tempt me into her web? And, what then? Does she think herself capable of containing me?”
Trapped between Arial’s thighs Celix struggled against Arial’s restraint. “No one refuses our Queen. She is the word of the Creator himself and he has deemed us all worthy of her rule. All, including you, Arial, will bow to her command”
At Celix’s statement Arial laughed loudly, and then dropped his gaze to meet Celix’s startled blue eyes. “I bow to no mother fucker. Tell that to your bitch queen and tell her she can cordially stick her summons up her ass. I don’t know what line she’s feeding you, but the Creator’s right hand stands at the side of the Vampire King. I’m pretty sure his allegiance is not to your so called Queen. Now, run along like a good little puppy, and be warned Celix, next time we meet, I won’t be so accommodating.” Arial kept his voice hard and low to push home his well-meant threat.
Celix shoved away as Arial rose. He gained his feet with a sneer on his beautiful face, but it didn’t hide the shadow of fear. “I’ll look forward to our next meeting then, Fallen.” With his words hanging in the air between them, Celix opened those huge, pale yellow wings and jettisoned up into the night.
”As will I, Nephilim, and you can bet your ass I’ll be ready for you too.” Arial muttered as he stalked deeper into the shadows and made his way toward his next rendezvous with Darklon De Sangue. His mind roiled with turmoil. The latest events at the royal enclave combined with Loz missing due to Darklon’s misdeeds weighed heavily on his shoulders. And, not to be forgotten, Laziel’s untimely disappearance coupled with Roman De Sangue flying off with Tobias to meet with the Appalachian pack, only added stress to an already volatile situation. The last fucking thing he needed was Celix throwing his own bit into the mix.
He had to prioritize, and at the top of his list was thinking of something to give Darklon to gain his trust. He needed into that inner circle if there was any hope of him finding Loz. As he maneuvered through the shadows of Rome’s dark streets, he pondered what tidbits of info he could willingly reveal. Laziel’s disappearance was a definite no go. If Darklon knew the angel had gone AWOL and left Malachi’s side, Arial feared the crazy bastard would make a beeline for Malachi and to hell with the consequences.
Out of loyalty to the King, Arial point blank refused to reveal anything on Malachi; he was a friend and had offered Arial his own form of salvation. He’d die rather than betray Denali or the angel, Laziel. His head was a mess. Thinking straight was about as easy as taking flight. Furthermore, Loz and the ghostly image of wings he’d seen were just another ingredient to throw into the conundrum. He hadn’t imagined them or the scent of Seraphim that had lingered long after Mistress Lorenza had left. It seemed to have engrained itself into Malachi’s flesh.
Was she the reason behind Laziel’s disappearance? It had been obvious that something happened between Malachi and Loz. The image of her grief stricken face outside of Malachi’s quarters spoke volumes on her emotional state. Malachi’s mood was also far darker than usual. Did those two confirm what Arial had suspected? Had carnal need somehow come into play? A need Laziel would have seen as the ultimate betrayal.
“Shit!” Arial knew the degree of Laziel’s love. As a celestial, the depths and emotion bound to an angel’s heart were both fathomless and eternal. Arial had witnessed that love time and time again. It brightened the soul of the Seraphim who had chosen a life on mortal Earth to be with the soul he’d created. Arial couldn’t begin to imagine the heartbreak Laziel suffered if what he suspected was true. And, if it was, Malachi Denali was a fool to discard the love Laziel bestowed upon him for a night with his vampire mistress. Arial planned to let Malachi know how he felt. The Vampire King
was going to listen and pull his arrogant royal head out of his God damned ass.
Angered by the thought of Laziel hurting and taking off into the night, Arial realized what he’d give Darklon to start the ball rolling. He’d spin the story of Gabriel’s betrayal and the King’s knowledge of it. He grinned, picturing Darklon’s face when the Elder realized the implications. He’d be sure to paint the Elder a gruesome picture of Malachi catching the bastard, dragging the useless human before the Elder court where he’d no doubt spill his guts on Darklon’s duplicity and then Denali ripping out the motherfucker’s throat and bathing in his blood before coming after Darklon himself.
~*~*~*~
Chapter Six
~*~*~*~
Shadows dipped and swayed. Wind rushed down the alley. Deep in the gloom, concealed by the darkness, Malachi waited. The empty space over his shoulder screamed far louder than the humans and their merrymaking in the bars and clubs along the main thoroughfare. The void in his mind, the absence of the light that was the harbinger of the angel’s presence, prodded his savagery. With nothing to dampen the beast within, Malachi dared not mingle among the revelers as he would have if Laziel strode along at his side.
The wind carried the scent of his enemies. The Nephilim, the children of the Fallen Angels, the self-proclaimed destroyers of the vampire race. As the king of said race, Malachi took personal offense to their vaulted claims, and it was his immortal life’s mission to rid the Earth of their plague. Adrenaline spiked through his system, spurred on by the latent ferocity of his cracked psyche.
Kill. Rend. Feed. Blood. Death. Destruction.
Each beat of his black heart railed against the pain that smothered him. Laziel was gone. For the first time in their many centuries together, the angel did not stand at his side. Worse, the mental bond remained silent. A yawning pit ate at his insides. Viciously, he slammed back the emotional weakness. Desperately, he fought against the monster. He had to maintain a clear head to find the angel. And, he would find him. No one in Heaven, Hell or on Earth had the power to stop him from finding what belonged to him.
