by C. S. Wilde
“Leave, demons.” Suther bared his teeth at Liam and Jal. “Leave before we rip you apart.”
Jal raised his hands. “We come in peace.”
“I have nothing to discuss with you.” Suther barked at them and it was strange, seeing a man-shaped creature make that beastly sound. “Your Legion failed my father. You failed all In-Betweens. I’m surprised Lilith still stands by you.”
Jal’s forehead crinkled. “Well, she’s not a fucking cowa—”
Liam stepped forward and pushed Jal back, silencing him just in time. So much for following that asshole’s lead.
“We’re sorry about Lothar,” he said in a diplomatic tone that felt odd in his mouth. “I was there when—”
Suther jumped to his feet, the muscles in his arms bulging as he fisted his hands. “I wasn’t there! Do you know why?” He stomped toward him, but Liam didn’t flinch or step back. “Father imprisoned me until it was done. I couldn’t fight beside him one last time.” Suther’s minted breath washed against Liam’s face. “When I was released, I discovered my father’s head had been severed by angelic hands, and I had inherited his packs. All of them! Do you think that’s fair, demon? That I was left with such humongous responsibility and couldn’t afford to avenge my father? Do you doubt I’d give my life to end his murderer?”
Oh, Liam wished he would. Lothar’s murderer was none other than Ava’s mate, Ezraphael himself.
He didn’t need to add wood to a burning fire, though, even if a part of him desperately wanted to.
“Lothar knew the risks and the outcomes,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Yes, he did. And so do I. You’ll do well to stay away from my people.” Before Liam could reply, Suther sniffed the air over his head, wincing as if he stank of old eggs. “Why do you smell of both angel and demon?”
Forget that; how could Suther smell it?
“He used to be of the light,” Jal explained with a bored demeanor, ignoring the surprise in Suther’s young face. “Look, we’ve all sacrificed a lot to be here. Your father’s death,” Jal shook his head, “it hurt us, too. Lothar used brute force to make his point, but the Legion stands for a peaceful transition. We could’ve never supported his attack, even if we wanted to save him.”
Suther’s fury now focused on Jal. “The Order has searched for a reason to smite the In-Betweens for centuries. My father gave them motive, yes, but if the Legion had aided him, this ongoing genocide of my people, of Lilith’s people, could have been avoided. And my father would still be standing here.”
“If the Legion had aided Lothar, it would’ve perished with him,” Jal countered, his tone mournful.
Suther barked once, a sound that reverberated throughout the park. Immediately, all pack leaders stood and growled at Liam and Jal.
They took a step back. This could go really bad, really fast.
“Stay away from us,” the werewolf lord growled, then walked away.
His pack leaders followed.
Liam let out a relieved breath once they were gone. “That went well.”
He expected a witty remark from Jal, but the demon’s typical playfulness had vanished. This scared Liam more than the pack of angry Alphas.
“We’re at war,” Jal said, his voice a whisper. “And we’re losing.”
6
Ava
The view from Ava’s new quarters was breathtaking. Unlike her old room, which faced a decadent building, she now looked over the entire city, a profusion of blinking towers drenched in the soft pink and orange that preceded sunrise.
Ava watched the skyline as an invisible force squeezed her chest. She wanted to visit the Legion and drown in Liam’s arms. She had to apologize for not seeing him sooner; for choosing to be here with Ezra. But Liam would understand this was all for the greater good. If anything, he understood the importance of duty.
Her wings spread and flapped without coordination, first the left followed by the right. They too wanted to go to him.
“If you did your job,” Ava grumbled at the feathery slumps behind her, “then we could’ve flown to Liam a long time ago and no one would have noticed.”
Her wings recoiled. Ava got the distinct sensation they’d been offended.
She rubbed the bridge of her nose and sighed. This was silly, of course. Her wings weren’t a dog in need of training. They were a part of her, like her light and darkness.
A soft breeze made the white linen curtains flutter. The cold marble floor numbed the soles of her feet.
Everything was cold in this room.
She missed the carpeted floor of her old quarters and even the internal airing system—the windows were always kept shut in the lower floors, where the third-tiers lived.
This room’s marbled walls and arched windows, the sheer size of it, felt more similar to a palace than to an angel’s quarters. It might be bigger, better, but it was also unfamiliar.
Everything felt more detached the higher she went within the Order.
When Ava was a Guardian, the compassion and kindness of the light had consumed her completely, blinding her to the evil around her. The evil within the Order.
To kill Gabriel, she had to free a beast that had been asleep inside her. And maybe that beast of darkness made her less amicable and compliant, but it also helped Ava see clearer than ever before. She never felt more real—more herself—than right now.
A knock came from inside her mind as if there was a backdoor at the base of her skull. Ava frowned, wondering if she had gone temporarily insane.
Then came a second knock.
A presence waited before her mental wall; she could sense it standing there, right on the edge of her consciousness. She closed her eyes and sunk into herself, immersed in a profound void.
Ava opened her eyes and watched the golden rift in her essence. A waterfall of light. And inside it, behind the sparkling brilliance, lied the new beast she had freed.
Her light purred in the way of a pleased feline, but the darkness ingrained within sat still and quiet.
Watching.
She turned in the opposite direction toward her mind wall. It appeared to be a never ending line made of either marble or bone. Then again, the wall wasn’t material, and neither was the waterfall. She had no clue why they looked that way.
Mysteries of the mind, she supposed.
She lowered the wall into the void around her, and an old man stepped forward.
He had a white beard with hair to match. His chocolate skin almost mingled with the darkness around him, highlighting his sky-blue eyes. He wore a white T-shirt with golden letters that spelled “ABBA.”
This was odd. Jophiel usually wore heavy-metal or rock band shirts.
It didn’t matter. He was here!
A smile bloomed on Ava’s lips as she ran to him. She hadn’t known the Seraph for long, but his Legion was merciful and inclusive—exactly what the Order should’ve been.
The sight of Jophiel brought a warm and giddy sensation to her core, not only because she missed the Seraph, but also for what he represented.
A new hope.
They hugged in the darkness for a while, neither of them uttering a word, neither really wanting to let go. Ava held a rush of tears that pushed for freedom. Instead of letting them out, she took a deep breath and stepped back.
“How is he?” She didn’t need to explain who “he” was.
“He’s …” Jophiel hissed through his teeth. “It’s hard, Ava. Liam’s doing well, but he has a long way to go. I’d say he’s fine, all things considered.”
“I wanted to go see him, I—”
He raised his palm. “Your mission here is of utmost importance. You saved Ezraphael, and with him you can also save the Order. Be proud of what you’re accomplishing.”
She was, but at the same time, helping those in need and focusing on the greater good … it wasn’t enough.
What about her and Liam’s happiness?
A pang of shame swam down her spine. For the
first time, Ava missed the compassionate angel she used to be.
Her rift rumbled with a growl.
Jophiel stared beyond her, at the rift where her beasts resided. A frown of either worry or curiosity creased his forehead.
“Jophiel?”
“Hmm?” He blinked and looked down at her. “Ah, yes. Bring Ezraphael to me when you’re ready. The time has come, but be careful with his feelings. They’re fragile, and a broken heart could still push him to the wrong side.”
“Ezra’s stronger than you give him credit for.” She crossed her arms. “And I can’t pretend to love him. It’s not fair to him or me.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You don’t need to pretend. You do love him, child, perhaps not the way you love Liam, but he is in your heart. I’m surprised you haven’t noticed it yet. As a daughter of the Goddess of Love and Life, emotions should be your specialty.”
The words were a sledgehammer and a wrecking ball that hit her at once. She cleared her throat. “I love Ezra as a friend.”
He rolled his eyes as if he knew Ava was lying to herself.
But she wasn’t.
She couldn’t be.
Ava scratched the back of her neck, hoping to change the course of this conversation. “I’ve been training.”
Jophiel gave her a pleased grin. “I’ve noticed. Your wall is stronger.”
“It is, but if I’m to spend time in Agathe’s presence, I need your—”
“No mental wall you raise will ever stop her. Be glad she’s known for respecting the Order’s laws and an angel’s privacy.”
Ava nodded. “I also tried moving heavy objects with my mind. Justine was there to help, but it didn’t work.”
“That I can help you with. Once Ezraphael knows about us, training you will be easier. As the Messenger, he can cover for you.”
“I will bring him to the Legion as soon as possible.” When realization dawned on Ava, a spark of excitement burned in her chest.
If she went to the Legion, she would see Liam again!
Jophiel raised his attention to the rift behind her, narrowing his eyes. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine.” She rolled her shoulders. “Though I’ve grown more impatient. Reckless, I’d say. Especially when it comes to facing the inequalities in the Order.”
“As I expected.” He still watched the rift. “As a Guardian, you had too much light. Now, you’ve unlocked that which will bring you balance. There’s nothing wrong with it, but balance will come with a price, as most things often do.”
“How can I find this balance? And what’s the price I’ll pay?”
“You’re already paying it.” He raised his head like a wolf catching a scent. “I must go now.” Jophiel’s image began fading before her. “Bring him to me.”
And with that he was gone.
Ava opened her eyes and watched the city ahead. She mulled over Jophiel’s words but still couldn’t understand their meaning.
What price was she paying?
Eventually she gave up and headed to her bed. She grabbed the white bodysuit and gray kilt laying on the mattress. Her silk nightgown pooled at her feet, and then she put on the comfortable fabric that stretched and adapted to her forms.
At least wearing clothes wasn’t as impossible as before—her bodysuits had slits on the back to fit her wings.
The damned things knew what to do now, which Ava counted as a victory. It had taken them a day or two to learn to act as second arms, though. If only they would vanish into her light, they could make things much easier. Being able to fly without free-falling into a nasty crash would be nice, too.
Her wings wiggled in a silent complaint.
By the time a soft knock came from the door, Ava had already zipped the bodysuit shut and fixed the kilt around her waist.
“Come in,” she said.
Ezra entered, wearing a bodysuit that clung to his tight muscles, his white linen kilt placed around his waist. His uniform differed from Ava’s on technicalities: while his suit was silver, hers was white, and though his kilt was white, hers was gray.
His hair was tied in a low braid that cascaded down the right side of his chest. When he gave Ava that picture-perfect smile, she wondered if he was real or a vision.
Admiring him felt wrong, though. So she looked away.
“Today we’re teaching your wings to go into your light, or my name isn’t Ezraphael Stormglow.” He walked to her and smoothed out the frame of her wings. “Also, let’s see if we can get them to fly again. I feel we’re almost there.”
Ava gave him a discouraged grin, so Ezra nudged her with his shoulder. “Is everything all right?”
“Yes,” she lied. “I just hate falling.”
She went to the window and crossed her arms, watching the view. Every day since Liam’s death, Ava was choosing duty over love.
And for what?
Ezra stepped beside her, pointing at the landscape. “It’s wonderful, isn’t it?”
She nodded mindlessly.
“You’re thinking about him,” he said, his words a statement more than a question.
How did he know? Her mental wall was strongly in place and besides, Ezra couldn’t read thoughts, only feel her emotions.
Perhaps they had been enough.
“He’s one of us,” she countered quietly.
“It’s more than that. You love Liam,” he said, even though she had never told him the truth out of fear it could push him to Talahel’s side.
“Ezra, I …”
“Have you ever wondered if your Guardian instincts got mixed with your real feelings? A lot changed for you in a very short time, and Liam became your only safe haven.” He studied his own silver boots. “Maybe what you feel for him isn’t love. Maybe you clung to him because he was the only one you could trust. He became home to you, the home I used to be.” He swallowed dryly. “I’ll never forgive myself for letting you down, Ava.”
She clenched her teeth and focused on the landscape ahead, taking the time to process his words.
At first Ava wanted to slap Ezra and push him out of her room, but she couldn’t do something that would hurt him, and this would. Mightily. He still had hope, and she couldn’t kill that flicker.
Not yet.
So she settled with a quiet, “I didn’t mistake my feelings for love.”
Didn’t she, though?
Hells, the seed was planted.
“You were his Guardian, and I assigned you to him,” Ezra continued. “Do you understand the implications of your being in love with him?”
If the Throne discovered that Ava had been romantically involved with a charge, it could cost her everything she had given up to be here. Not to mention it would ruin her entire mission.
“You mean I can’t be with Liam.” The words corroded her vocal chords.
She refused to accept them.
“You shouldn’t have been with Liam when he was human, and you shouldn’t be with him now. He’s a demon, Ava,” Ezra said. “You need to let him go.”
Ava’s body felt heavy, and she wondered if her limbs had turned into stone. Breathing, thinking, functioning, it all became too difficult.
She wasn’t ready to face that truth, so she rushed to the round desk near her window and grabbed some papers. She handed them to Ezra.
Before he could ask what they were, or why Ava had given them to him so abruptly, she explained, “We might not be able to denounce Talahel, but we can make his life harder.”
Ezra read the papers and smiled. “You’re denying him the shipments of holy guns and swords he requested.”
“Well, you are.” She pointed to the empty signature placeholders.
Ezra went to her desk, took a pen, and promptly signed them. “After our training, hand the documents to Virtue Chang from protocols.”
“By the way,” she said, “I know someone who can help us defeat Talahel.”
Ezra frowned. “You do?”
“Yes, and I can take you to
him.”
Ezra watched her for a long while, his doubt forming a cloud of shaking gray against her Dominion’s essence.
“If you think it’s best,” he finally said.
“It is. But you must keep an open mind. Promise me this.”
He watched her with a mix of hurt and longing that pierced her chest. “For you, Ava, anything.”
7
Liam
The darkness was always there, always a part of him. Sometimes it whispered, sometimes it bellowed, but through the darkness’ furious fits, Liam learned to find himself.
Slowly.
It was all about control.
So when the dark told him that Ava was fucking the Messenger while Father beat him, Liam didn’t stop moving, didn’t let the darkness take over. Instead, he swiveled on his base and charged forward, slamming a punch on Archie’s face that sent the old man three steps back.
Sweat beaded on Liam’s forehead. His knuckles ached, his ribs too, but he didn’t care. He had blocked the darkness and punched a second-tier demon.
Two things to be damn proud of.
Archie rubbed his jaw. “Not bad, kid.”
Liam had missed this: the adrenaline, the anticipation. The focus. He couldn’t wait to be out in the field again with the old man.
“I’m ready, Archie.” He swayed from one foot to the other, his fists raised. “Let’s bring down some demons.”
“Ironic, since we’re demons too.” Archie unsheathed his sword and gave him a roguish grin. Shadows grew from the old man’s back, revealing his wings.
Playtime was over.
Liam unsheathed his sword, a crappy weapon that hung on a black leather belt around his waist, occupying the sheath that used to belong to Michael’s blade.
His blade.
This sword’s hilt was too light. Even after three days, Liam hadn’t adjusted to it. Compared to his old weapon, a mighty silver and blue beast, this thing felt like a scared little rat in his hands. But the Order had snagged Michael’s sword after Liam’s death, and there was no retrieving it.
