Cursed Darkness (Angels of Fate Book 2)

by C. S. Wilde

  Without warning, Ezra swiveled toward her and took her firmly in his arms. His attention remained locked on her as her wings disappeared in a flash.

  “I’ve got you,” he muttered.

  Ava kept gazing at those consuming kind eyes as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “You do.”

  The Messenger looped and plunged. Ava’s stomach flew up to her throat, but by now she was used to the sensation.

  Soon enough, Ezra landed smoothly atop the building.

  Still in his arms, she smiled. “This was fun.”

  His fingers dug deeper on her skin. “It was. We should do it more often.”

  A red and velvety sensation flowed from him in warm waves.

  Lust.

  All too quickly Ezra tucked it back inside his essence, fear and embarrassment mingling in his features.

  Ava faked innocence, hiding the fact that she’d noticed. She also ignored the tendrils of lust that spiraled inside her, wanting, needing to connect to Ezra’s.

  They were simply a memory of how she used to feel about him, nothing more. This wasn’t how she felt right now.

  It couldn’t be.

  Inside her rift, her darkness and light chuckled. Perhaps they also knew that ignoring her feelings for the Messenger was pointless.

  Ezra pressed his forehead against hers. “I’ll always look after you, Ava.”

  His words cut through her because she’d once told Liam the same. Ava had been his Guardian, his lover, and now here she was in another man’s arms after breaking his heart.

  Liam’s voice echoed in her mind, “You loved him for what? A hundred years? I can’t compete with that.”

  Ava jumped from Ezra’s strong grip and left, ignoring the simple truth that craved her attention.

  Even after the Messenger called out her name, she kept walking. Away from her feelings and her duties.

  Away from him.

  15

  Ava

  Congregation happened every Sunday in a vast room located below the last floor of the Order.

  White marbled pews lined the space, and a beige carpet led the way into the chancel. Light poured through towering arched windows made of stained glass engraved with the story of the Gods. The colors fit well against the white, almost as if under the right light the windows were painting the space with their rainbow colors.

  A dais with a tribune stood at the chancel where the high angel in charge would lead the day’s sermon.

  Coming here didn’t feel much different from when Ava went to church with her mother. It had always made her uncomfortable, though she never admitted it aloud.

  Drones with cameras and beamers hovered near the ceiling. They projected blue holo-screens on the walls, showcasing the seven branches of the Order throughout the seven continents. Each branch had specific country subsidiaries and those had divisions which, in turn, had sections.

  In many ways, the Order’s structure resembled that of a tree. The main trunk—this building—spread into worldwide branches, and those branches spread into twigs. The twigs then gave way to leaves, such as the Selfless departments.

  Ava squirmed in her seat as she watched the angels in the pews. The room was filled with second-tiers only. The broadcast would be delivered exclusively to ascended angels across the world.

  Lower angels were not allowed to congregate with the ascended, which was an unfair and appalling rule. But so was the way of the Order.

  Last week, Ezra had presided over the Congregation. He’d went on about how the Order must be merciful, and how angels shouldn’t condemn the In-Betweens. He said they were starved and being drugged—at which point one angel in the crowd yelled, “Allegedly!”

  Never mind that every In-Between’s testimony stated the same, even if their word was worthless to the Order. Never mind that they begged for help and received none, mostly because Talahel silenced their voices. And never mind that the Order didn’t bother to simply look their way.

  So much for angelic mercy.

  Ever since Lothar and Lilith’s attack, the desire for retribution had grown strong in angelic hearts, blinding eyes that should’ve been able to see.

  Revenge might not be the way of the Gods, but it sat remarkably well with angels. The fact that Talahel and his goons fueled this anger en masse didn’t help.

  Today, he stood proudly behind the tribune, ready to throw gasoline on a burning fire. The Sword grasped both sides of his marbled stand and peered at the full room. He found Ava in the crowd, and his attention lingered on her. He smirked discretely and then straightened his stance.

  “Brothers and sisters,” he began. “Let us thank the Gods for the week of fortuitous work behind us, and pray for the week that’s to come. Let us pray for strength to protect and guide the Gods’ greatest creation: mankind. And let us pray for strength to slaughter any force that defies our mighty, blessed goal.” At that he closed his fists as if he were squashing a bug in his palm.

  For the first time ever, clapping echoed in the Congregation. It was discrete and only lasted a moment, but it had been there.

  Shrill red tendrils wafted from angelic essences, filling the room. Dominions, Virtues, Archangels, it didn’t matter. They all hated the In-Betweens, even though only lower angels had died in the attack. The same angels who were not allowed in here.

  The hypocrisy made her stomach twist.

  At least they felt the loss. Better than nothing, she supposed.

  Ava wanted to be anywhere else. Hells, a bed of nails would be better than this. But she was Ezra’s mate, and it was her duty to attend Congregation under all circumstances. Especially when he couldn’t be present.

  Officially, the Messenger had a meeting with Vera regarding the task force, but in truth he was at the Legion with Jophiel.

  When Ava tried to explain why she’d left him on that rooftop, Ezra merely hugged her and said, “I understand.”

  He was so kind, so good to her, and she only made him suffer. It was far from fair, and yet she couldn’t do anything to change it.

  Well, she could … but never mind.

  She’d asked if she could preside over the Congregation for lower angels, and Ezra told her he would think about it. Vera had presided two weeks before, so Ava couldn’t see why not. It seemed a worthier use of her time.

  “You might start a revolution if you do,” Ezra had whispered in her ear. “And we need that, we truly do, but not right now.”

  Fair point.

  From the tribune, Talahel spewed words of hate and revenge, his wild eyes showcasing madness, and yet no one seemed to notice.

  No one seemed to care.

  “My request for more weapons was denied by the Messenger,” Talahel went on, and the attention from the entire room fell upon Ava. She shrunk in her seat. “Our brother Ezraphael and his mate are too kind for this world. Too pure. They say we must be merciful to the In-Betweens, the same creatures who gutted and beheaded our brothers and sisters.”

  The anger in the space turned into something bitter on Ava’s tongue. She tried to ignore the boulder of resentment and outrage threatening to smash her.

  “The children of the Goddess of Life and Love know nothing of battle,” Talahel said. “Full moon is coming, and so are the wolves. Make no mistake, brothers and sisters, we are at war.”

  More like leading a slaughter, but no one would believe her because somehow all proof indicated that the In-Betweens attacked Talahel’s angels without mercy. Some Archangels had even perished by their hands, such as Archangel Firma, who was found as a pile of ashes and burnt bones on a sidewalk.

  Never mind that her death matched a demonic attack through and through. The autopsy claimed her throat had been clawed by a werewolf who then set her on fire. And no one defied the results, partly because angels were trusting creatures, and partly because they didn’t want to see what was right in front of them.

  Let Talahel worry about that.

  All it took was one curious Virtue or Erudite, one
Dominion or Guardian, one Archangel or Warrior … all breath fled her lungs. Maybe Talahel had gotten rid of them. He was capable of such atrocity.

  Maybe that’s what had happened to Firma. Maybe the arm of the Order had begun taking over the body. Or maybe Ava was losing her mind.

  “Without weapons,” Talahel continued, “my army cannot ensure the safety of the men and women in this city and the angels within the Order. It’s the reason why the Throne has overruled the Messenger’s decision and approved the shipment I need to keep us safe.” He pointed to the world outside the windows. “All of them safe!”

  The crowd erupted in cheers.

  From the holo-screens, angels in other branches simply watched. Some nodded in support, others peered at Talahel with curiosity if not a bit of confusion. And yet none said a word. No one opposed him.

  The room spun around Ava.

  She had tried to stop Talahel through the legal ways, the official ways, and they’d failed her. They might’ve failed a lot of others, too.

  The Legion had to hurry, and so did she and Ezra. Soon, there would be no In-Betweens left in the city.

  Suther’s wolves wouldn’t be able to hide for much longer, and Lilith’s vampires, the ones who fought for the Legion, were already dropping like flies.

  Ava remembered a time when the numbers of In-Betweens were mightier than the numbers of the Order. When angels and demons actually feared their growth.

  That time had perhaps long passed. And according to Gabriel—before she beheaded him—humans would be next.

  Ava had to do something. Sitting and waiting wasn’t an option anymore.

  If she was going to defeat Talahel, she would have to play by the rules of his wicked game.

  When Ava was a Guardian, her charges always took priority, which was quite perfect considering she hated being the center of attention. But now, as she stepped into the lower angels’ cafeteria, the attention of the room crashed upon her.

  She blushed and hurried to the buffet counter, where she took a tray and ordered eggs and bacon.

  The cafeteria angel—Guardian Zuli, if Ava recalled correctly—observed her with complete adoration as if Ava was one of the three Gods herself.

  She and Zuli were both angels, one no better or worse than the other, and yet Zuli herself would deny that.

  A knot tightened in Ava’s throat.

  The woman served her breakfast and said, “Thank you for gracing us with your presence today, Dominion Lightway.”

  “My presence graces no one,” Ava countered, then nodded up to where ascended angels lived and worked, to where she should be now according to the moronic rules of the Order. “We’re all angels.”

  Zuli frowned in a way that said she doubted Ava’s sanity. She attempted an awkward grin. “Indeed, Dominion Lightway. May the Gods be with you.”

  “With you as well.” Ava grabbed her tray.

  After Talahel’s Congregation, resentment and disappointment fell upon her with the wrath of a mighty avalanche. As a Dominion, she could feel their anger and disgust as clearly as one could smell a flower or hear a sound.

  She had to leave the upper floors of the Order, at least for a while.

  Ava looked for Justine in the crowded cafeteria and found her friend waving at her from a secluded table at the back of the room.

  She stared at her own feet as she made her way to Justine, avoiding eye contact with the angels around her. Regardless, those she passed turned her way. Their awe and adoration slipped into her skin, settling in her bones. A stark contrast against the hate that came from above.

  “I hear her wings are white as snow,” said an Erudite to her right.

  “It’s because she’s so pure,” a Guardian next to the Erudite explained. “No wonder she became a Dominion so quickly.”

  “She was there that day, you know,” someone else whispered from the left. “Unlike the ascended, she fought for us.”

  Ava tried to ignore the whispers and murmurs all the way to Justine.

  Once she reached the table and dropped on her seat, her friend smiled. “Now that was an entrance.”

  “Not funny.” She watched the space, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. “Next time, we’re having breakfast outside.”

  “I think your presence is good for them.” Justine took a piece of melon from her fruit bowl and chewed. “You help them think for themselves.”

  Ava frowned as she watched the lower angels in the cafeteria. Unlike the ascended, she fought for us.

  “Anyway.” Justine shrugged. “How’s Olympus?”

  “Frustrating.” Ava leaned back in her chair and sighed deeply. “I could use some good news.”

  “How about a distraction instead?” Justine wiggled her brow. “I was reading the old parchments the other day, and do you know what they say?”

  “Do tell.” Ava forked her eggs and chewed slowly.

  “When the soulmate bond snaps into place, both lovers go into mating overdrive to seal it. Can you imagine? All that angelic power consumed in a frenzy of hot, dirty sex?” She fanned herself with her hand. “Oh la la.”

  “Gods, Justine. Our world is ending, and that’s all you can think about?”

  “Hey, excuse me for indulging in some light-hearted discussion with my best friend.” She raised her palms and looked up as if she was asking the Gods for patience. “We could both use the distraction, you know.”

  Ava rolled her eyes. Thinking about soulmates didn’t raise her spirits in the slightest.

  “There’s no such thing as soulmates,” she said, taking one more bite of her food. “Liam and I are proof, don’t you think?”

  “Maybe he isn’t your soulmate.” Justine popped a grape into her mouth. “Or maybe he is. Maybe the bond only forms once you two find yourselves or something equally cliché.”

  Ava puffed out an annoyed breath. “How convenient and also scientifically accurate of you, Erudite Dubois.”

  Justine showed Ava her tongue. “I might be a child of knowledge and logic, but passion is my favorite subject.”

  “Clearly.”

  She threw a grape at Ava. “You must admit that being taken by a territorial male has its appeal.” Justine traced the rim of the bowl with her finger. “I hope that happens when my bond with Kevin snaps into place.”

  “And yet it hasn’t.” Ava narrowed her eyes. “Because there are no soulmates. The parchments are fantasies and folklore, nothing more.”

  Justine chewed on another piece of melon. “I have a theory.”

  Ava buried her forehead in her palms. “Gods, help me.”

  Her friend went on anyway. “What if the bond only forms if the angelic powers are aligned? What if it depends on an angel’s ascendancy?”

  “Now that’s silly.”

  “Ugh!” She crossed her arms. “Whatever, you grumpy hag.”

  Ava chuckled and shook her head. Gods bless Justine for bringing a bit of joy to her life. She then looked around the cafeteria, making sure no one could hear them.

  “I found a way to slow down Talahel,” she whispered. “But Ezra can’t help me. He’s the Messenger, and he has enough on his plate. Besides, your set of skills would be perfect for what I have in mind.”

  “Sweetie, I’m honored.” Justine’s eyes twinkled, and she rubbed her hands the way a squirrel does when finding a nut. “Are we about to do something mischievous?”

  Ava grinned. “Absolutely.”

  16

  Liam

  Ghosts weren’t real. Liam had never feared specters in the movies, maybe because he knew worse things came hunting at night.

  Yes, ghosts weren’t real, and yet the Archangel he’d murdered stayed with him. A memory of guilt and regret, she haunted his nightmares non-stop.

  Good thing he always slept like shit anyway.

  “What are we doing here?” he asked Jal, who led him to an abandoned building with a cracked façade. The entrance’s broken wooden door balanced on one hinge.

  The ni
ght was old. Liam could always tell by the silence on the empty streets. It muffled the air around him, sucking all sound.

  Liam hated this kind of silence. It always preceded a shit ton of trouble.

  Beside him, Jal watched the building, a certain longing in the way he did it. “You’ve faced the Gorge’s demons, so I figured I should show you that not all of us are bad.” He nodded to the broken door. “It’ll be good for you.”

  Liam shoved his hands in his black jeans pockets. “I know you’re—” He cleared his throat. “We’re not all bad.”

  “Hmm.” The demon didn’t seem to believe him. “Archie told me the Archangel was the first innocent you killed.”

  His words were blades and axes. Liam shrugged, pretending it was no big deal. “Michael killed humans, right? I’ll get over it eventually.”

  “From what I hear, those humans weren’t exactly innocent. Besides, you’re not Michael anymore.”

  Could he drop it?

  “I’m fine,” Liam snapped. “I can take a rough day at the job.”

  “Her name was Firma,” Jal continued as he scanned the façade. “Remember her when you kill Hauk and this Master of his. That way, her death won’t have been in vain.”

  Liam’s throat suddenly tightened. “Is that what you do?”

  “More often than you’d think.” His voice was a dry sound that oozed sorrow. “My daadi always said that as long as we don’t forget those who are gone, they still live.”

  The thought brought joy to Liam’s heart. So did avenging Firma—preferably by slamming a blade into Hauk’s chest—even if it wouldn’t change the nightmares where the Archangel’s charred corpse stretched her hands toward him, begging for mercy.

  But he would take what he could get.

  Jal tapped his shoulder and led the way into the decrepit building.

  The place reeked of old moss and leaking pipes. It was cold as fuck, too. Liam’s fire rumbled inside him, burning underneath his skin to keep him warm.

  The house was pitch-dark, but Liam could see perfectly. Well, more like feel it perfectly. The darkness showed him chipping walls and leaks that created dark blotches near the ceiling. Most planks on the wooden floor stood like sinking ships in his way, so Liam walked around them.