by V L Moon
“To business.” Her cold voice echoed. “It’s come to my attention that Denali now has a new treaty with Jorn Chamberlain and the Wolf Packs. Annihilate them. Leave no one alive. I will not tolerate any alliance between the races. It’s high time Denali learned who rules around here. The vampires will soon be but a myth and the wolves will follow unless they come to heel.” Onoskelis arched a brow and casually re-crossed her thin legs.
“I’ve selected the Nephilim you’re to lead. Make sure each of them is armed and up to speed on what to expect from the wolves. You’ll attack at sundown, the time my sources inform me the wolves are most likely to be full from a hunt, or rutting like the wild animals they truly are. They won’t be expecting a Nephilim attack, not so soon after our last little visit.” Onoskelis sharpened her gaze as her plan hit home.
“Do not disappoint me again, Celix. Next time, I won’t be so pleasant. Succeed and I will take you into the fold, reward you a place on my own personal guard. Now leave. Your men await you at the southern gate.” With a click of her fingers another Nephilim was dragged in by a length of chain. Onoskelis opened her legs and placed each one over the arms of her throne. Celix turned away as she grabbed the Nephilim by the back of the neck and thrust his face into the weeping crevice between her thighs.
Once through the doors of Queen Onoskelis throne room, Celix lost the contents in his gut. He vomited fiercely into the pants he clutched in his hand. He didn’t care that he was naked. The Nephilim were well accustomed to seeing each other dressed in nothing but their own skin, especially when they’d been called before their lust crazed Queen. Celix trashed the pants when he entered his room.
Not so long ago, Clariel would have been there waiting for him. Even though Celix appreciated what Malachi did to keep Clary safe, Celix felt the weight of the male’s absence more and more with each passing day. He missed him deeply. But, he’d promise Clariel he’d stay away. Celix grunted as he dressed himself for a night filled with battle and pushed away the ache born from Clariel’s absence. Miserable, he made his way toward the southernmost gates of the Nephilims’ compound. When he arrived, he came face to face with just how dire his dilemma truly was.
Queen Onoskelis had finally given up any pretense on wisdom. The Nephilim she’d chosen to fight against the wolves were no more than children in Nephilim years. Celix counted roughly twenty or so males as he slowly walked through the hushed frightened group. The open look of fear in their wide eyed faces pulled at Celix’s heartstrings. “Like lambs to the slaughter.” Celix thought.
“How many of you have hand to hand combat experience? Weaponry skills?” Celix left the questions out there and waited. Out of the twenty or so Nephilim only five raised their hands. After more questions, he learned what little combat training they possessed was limited. Their Queen had to know the chances of any of these Nephilim returning was slim to none. The wolves would tear them limb from limb. He couldn’t allow this. It would be a massacre.
“Why? Why you, when we have older better trained Nephilim?” Celix voiced his thoughts out loud.
“She’s saving them.” Came the reply. Celix didn’t know who found the bravery to speak; didn’t much care. He just wanted answers.
“We’re just cannon fodder. Even if we take out or wound a handful of the wolves, it won’t be enough to please her. She has the older Nephilim in strict training. Something big is brewing and by the smell of sulfur coming from her private halls, we’re guessing Onoskelis has demon spawn with her. We think she is using them to train the older, more experienced of us.” The young Nephilim lowered his tone, worry etched on his face.
“How do you know of this?” Celix asked. His skin prickled and drew up the hairs on the back of his neck. The young male looked up; his face ashen with fear and a stark look in his eyes that Celix had seen many times before.
“Onoskelis took me at thirteen after she killed my human mother. I’ve never asked what became of my father. It didn’t matter. The others she keeps will end up here too, unless she kills them first, or worse.” The male trembled slightly and his face turned even paler. “I’m one of the lucky ones.”
The abuse his brothers faced sickened him. He feared by the look on the young Nephilim’s face that their Queen’s mind was much more depraved than he expected. “Why would you say that? What makes you think that ending up here; about to face off with the wolves makes you lucky?” He asked almost dreading the reply.
The male Nephilims eyes sparkled with the glint of unshed tears. He was terrified. Celix watched as the young male swallowed and hooked his arms around his own waist. Another Nephilim moved up beside him, and then another, until each one in turns placed a hand against the hopeless male’s trembling body. They all knew; all of them except Celix.
“We’re not enough for Onoskelis anymore. She uses us as an entrée to whet her appetite, but even her appetite isn’t enough to feed the demons she uses. They get angry if they’ve been summoned and not fulfilled. Onoskelis gave us to the demons. I would rather die fighting the wolves than end up there again. We all would.” The Nephilim’s voice broke. Hot tears swept down his face. Anger rose up to wipe away the pain in Celix’s heart. He had to do something. He couldn’t allow the abuse to continue, or see his brothers ripped apart by a war they wanted no part in. Arial’s words floated through his mind.
“Stay here. Eat, train, and act as though none of what you have told me has been said. If anyone enquires to my whereabouts, I am gathering weaponry for tonight’s foray. Wipe away your tears, brother. Do not show any, but your brothers here among you any weakness. And, that goes for you all.” Celix took the male into his arms and momentarily embraced the trembling male.
“Be strong, brother. I am on your side as are many others.” With that, Celix stepped out onto the small broken balcony, opened his wings and took to the skies. “Promises and pie crusts were meant to be broken, my sweet Clariel. I only hope you can forgive me once the fat lady sings.”
He’d always known exactly where to find Clariel. The vampire king had shown mercy in saving the male Celix loved. He’d placed him securely within the holy home of the Vatican; a righteous place for one as pure as Clariel. Many a night, Celix had watched from afar in the hopes of catching a glimpse of the male. He’d promised not to come, and to a point, he’d kept that promise. He never approached Clariel, even though it tore out his heart to stay away.
But, he’d watched. Under the pretense of protecting, Celix fooled himself, night after night and day after day, into believing he could handle the pain that came with seeing Clariel. And, faced with having to actually approach him, Celix was quickly losing his nerve. Butterflies churned up his insides and his heart jolted. His breath caught in the back of his throat as he ascended to Clariel’s balcony. Sadly, he watched the color drain away from the beautiful features of Clariel’s openly shocked face.
“You promised Celix.” The innocent, soft tone of Clariel’s voice sent shivers through his spine. In that moment, Celix hated himself. He knew coming there put Clariel at risk of being sent back to the Nephilim Queen. If that happened, Onoskelis wouldn’t hesitate to kill Clariel, or worse feed him to the demons. Celix didn’t want to imagine the horrors of what his young Nephilim brothers faced at the hands of their Queen and the demons. The small amount of time he’d spent in Onoskelis’ company was enough.
How they managed to live through the horrifying ordeal was beyond him. The least he could do was try to help them, even if it meant breaking an oath. He’d plead with Malachi; beg on his knees if required to keep Clariel safe. But first, he had to see him and try to explain. Hopefully, the vampire king would listen and devise some sort of plan so the males waiting for him back at the compound could return as unscathed as possible while keeping the wolves safe at the same time. Approaching an overwrought Clariel, Celix tentatively guided the male to the bed. He went down on his knees between the male’s legs and lost himself completely in those glistening violet eyes.
By th
e time Celix had explained the dire circumstances surrounding his appearance; Clariel had dragged him up onto the bed beside him and proceeded to wipe the tears from Celix’s eyes. Tears Celix hadn’t realized were there. “I’m sorry I broke my promise to you. I just didn’t know how else to help them, and I just needed—I needed to see you, to be able to touch you and know that you’re really ok.”
Clariel’s fingers brushed his cheek, caressing the line of Celix’s jaw and then followed the path across the fullness of his lips. Celix kissed the pad of his thumb before gently suckling the soft digit into the warmth of his mouth. A rush of warm breath swept across his face as Clariel moaned at the simple innocent act.
“I love you. I miss you so much it’s killing me inside. Look at me. See what you mean to me please.” Celix mentally screamed, knowing his silent plea shone ardently in his eyes.
“Celix.” The anguish in Clariel’s voice as he spoke his name broke Celix apart. He knew the strength behind Clariel’s convictions. The male would never defer from his reasoning, believing himself unworthy of love, even though Celix considered him far too good for the likes of himself.
“I’ll never stop loving you Clary. You might not want me, but I will always, always want you. There is nothing I wouldn’t do to keep you safe.” Celix stated as he rose from the bed and silently crossed the room. He stood at the open window leading onto the balcony. The sun was high in the sky, but he felt cold inside. “Goodbye, Clariel.”
Celix opened his wings and prepared to take flight. “Celix wait. I’ll take you to Gregori. He might be able to get a message to Malachi. If he can, maybe together we can convince him to tell the wolves not to attack, or at least warn them that the Nephilim are young and acting under duress.” Clariel held out his hand. Celix didn’t hesitate to take it and pull Clariel in against the swell of his chest.
“You are so much braver and more beautiful than I could ever hope to be. Never forget that.” He said, keeping his voice low as he whispered lovingly against the top of Clariel’s head. Seconds later, he was being led to a large ornate bookcase that pushed aside to reveal a hidden doorway to Creator knew where.
~*~*~*~
“Malachi!” The roar of his name dragged him into consciousness. The dream faded, and once again, the angel disappeared into the blackness of his mind. He shoved up with one hand and leaned back against the shattered altar. He lifted the other hand and blinked uncomprehendingly at the empty bottle of Glennfiddich. Slowly, the events from the night before marched across his memory. Death and destruction, his own personal specialty. He glanced down and was relieved to see he’d at least changed out of the bloody fighting gear before succumbing to the sun sleep.
The heavy tread of boots drew his gaze to the door. He probably should have been surprised when Arial stormed into the chapel, but he wasn’t. The male seemed to have made it his life’s mission to torment him.
“What the fuck do you want?” Malachi growled, pushing the rest of the way to his feet. “And, why in the hell do you smell like a damned Nephilim?” He saw surprise register on the Fallen’s face and then quickly disappear. Suspicion narrowed his eyes as more of the previous night’s events trickled through. Arial had tackled him, to protect Celix.
Placing the empty bottle on the black stone, Malachi tilted his head and studied the other male. The faintest trace of guilt stirred in the airless room. Was it because of Laziel? Or, was there something going on between Arial and the mysterious Nephilim? Had Arial’s foray into Darklon’s world born evil fruit?
“The shit’s about to hit the fan, Denali,” Arial shot back. “Darklon is off his fucking rocker. He says he’s found the Bourne fellow he’s always whining about.” Malachi’s stomach seized. Midnight eyes flashed red.
“Come again?” he said low.
“After you ported last night, I ran into the Elder out in the streets. He was…not himself.” Arial raked a hand through his dreads and shook his head. “Blood all over his face, eyes wild and boasting about his plans. He said he’d found Bourne and everything was falling into place. He’s going after this male, but he’s also set up a hit on Chamberlin’s pack. He was raving about Roman betraying him, Mistress Loz and the Bourne guy. Half the shit he said made no sense.”
“When is the attack?” Malachi barked already striding for the door. “We have to warn Jorn and Tobias. Is Roman still here, or has he gone back to Brazil?”
Arial fell into step beside him. “He never said when, and I couldn’t get any straight answers. Roman is here, but I came to you first. I assume the attack will be by the Nephilim. I thought the one working for the Pope might be able to help us find out what’s going down.” They navigated the empty passageways and emerged into the main enclave.
“Clary has no contact with the Nephilim. I have him watched and followed when he leaves the Vatican.” Malachi snapped, but detoured from his office to head for the crossover to Pope Gregori’s chambers. “But, he’s in love with that Celix character you were protecting last night.” Beside him Arial stumbled. It was slight, but Malachi had been watching for it. There was something there. It raised the small hairs at the back of his neck. He’d allowed the Fallen into his inner circle because Laziel trusted him. But, recent months proved the male’s loyalty was to Laziel when backs were against the wall.
“We’ll see if he still has a way to contact the Nephilim,” Malachi said, keeping his observations to himself. At the entrance to the Pontiff’s rooms, Malachi hit the trigger. The bookcase swung wide. The opposing door was already open. Gregori stood in the center of the room. Clariel and Celix stood at his side. Malachi’s eyes drilled into the half-breeds. Clarry swallowed hard, fear raw and evident on his face. Celix’s eyes locked on Arial before he moved to shield Clariel from Malachi’s reach. At his side, the Fallen cursed under his breath.
“Welcome, Malachi. It seems we all have something to discuss,” the Pope spoke almost jovially. If he didn’t know better, Malachi would swear the male was enjoying the drama unfolding in his chambers.
~*~*~*~
Indifferent to his holy surroundings, Celix moved, placing himself in front of Clariel and pushing the other male out of the reach of Malachi’s furious rage. The vampire king’s features twisted into a feral snarl. His fangs lengthened as he approached Celix.
“You were warned, half-breed. You’ve gone back on your oath to stay away from him,” Malachi spat the last word and lunged toward the center of the room where Celix shielded Clariel.
“Oh no you don’t, big boy,” Arial sneered and grabbed hold of Malachi’s shoulders, hauling him back against the huge Fallen’s chest. Arial’s dark eyes speared Celix with a warning glare. Celix backed up, taking Clariel with him.
With a vicious blow to Arial’s stomach, Malachi shook free of the Fallen. His midnight eyes changed to glow a hellish crimson. Real fear soured Celix’s stomach. “Once again, you lay hands on me to protect my enemy,” Malachi snarled. “But then, he isn’t your enemy is he Fallen? You swore an oath to me, but it seems your allegiance has changed. What happened, Arial? You finally find a fuck buddy?”
Arial paled. Malachi shifted his gaze between the two of them before returning his attention to Arial. “You put your fucking hands on me again; I’ll rip your throat out and drink you dry. I don’t care what sort of shit you have in your veins. I’ll fuckin kill you, and your half breed boy toy,” Malachi seethed.
Tension and fear leaked from Clariel as he clung to Celix. Celix looked back, knowing Clariel had heard the insinuation that there was something between himself and Arial. Pain radiated from Clariel’s eyes as he looked to Arial and then back at Celix. Clariel’s raw agony as it dawned on him that Celix could possibly have feelings for someone else stole Celix’s breath. White hot fury rose up within him.
Celix flew at Malachi with fists raised. He wanted nothing more than to pound the life out of the murderous motherfucker for hurting Clariel when there was no need. Nothing had come from his brief encounter with Arial.
But, Celix couldn’t deny he’d wanted something more. He’d longed for and yearned after Clariel for so long that the notion of another showing an ounce of interest in him was somewhat of an anomaly. Up until that encounter, it had only ever been Clariel; even though the male constantly dismissed the notion Celix could possibly love him. And, as much as Celix knew he’d wait for however long it took Clariel to see reason, sometimes when Celix was alone lost to his thoughts, he wondered what it would feel like to be loved or held in an embrace where he was the one left feeling wanted and safe.
“You have no right to keep him away from me,” Celix growled. He swung hard, putting all of his brute strength behind his punch only for Arial to step between them and block the blow.
“If you hit him, I have to kill you,” Arial gritted. “Laziel would murder the lot of us if he’s injured at your hands.”
“Step aside, Fallen. I have no need of your ambivalent loyalty. I would rather protect myself than depend upon you,” Malachi sneered. He turned his attention to Celix and Celix’s blood froze. “I have every right. You murderous bastards have killed multitudes of my race. Taking him in was an act of good faith, one that can be reversed as easily as it was made. I do not trust you and now you know how to find my enclave. I have no choice but to end you to protect my people;” Malachi stormed.
“Hold your fucking horses, motherfucker. I swear on my oath to Laziel, I will take your ass down. No one is killing anyone, not on my watch. Celix, do your self a really big favor and take a step back, right fucking now.” Arial grunted. Celix obeyed, but refused to take his eyes off of the vampire who stared straight back at him.
“Arial’s right, my old friend,” Gregori stated as he walked between them. He looked passive and calm when he reached out to cup Malachi’s face in the palm of his hand. “There will be no blood spilled in the house of my Lord. Now, while I am indebted to you for bringing Clariel to us, I forbid you to cause him or Celix any harm. This is my home, my rules, Malachi. We have been friends a long time. I hope that stands for something. I know it does to me. I suggest you calm down so we can get to the bottom of things. Don’t you agree?”
