Cursed Darkness (Angels of Fate Book 2)

by C. S. Wilde

  Every. Single. Time.

  Even so, Jophiel made her try until her brain stabbed her skull and every muscle in her body hurt. Until Ava fell numb on the floor, bordering on consciousness.

  One day during their training, the Seraph’s unbreakable mental wall caved only a little, enough for her to sense how exhausted he was. Hopeless. As if he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, and it was always on the verge of falling.

  When Jophiel noticed she had peered into his essence, he put up his wall and pointed to the stone blocks. “Again, Ava. You can do this.”

  No, she couldn’t. Just like the Legion couldn’t protect the In-Betweens and fight demons at the same time. It couldn’t save the Order, either.

  Jophiel would never admit that he—they—were failing, but it was the truth.

  And Ava was done with it.

  “I don’t know how much longer I can take!” Justine shouted. A vein popped out on her forehead as she used her telekinesis to keep the vampire in place.

  Ava trapped the creature from behind in a sleeper hold that wasn’t working at all. “Just a little more!”

  She pushed herself up and wrapped her legs around the vampire’s waist, trying to tilt him forward and onto the floor. Instead, she felt like a backpack.

  Heavens, this vampire must be taller and bulkier than Liam, who was a strong man to begin with. If not for Justine’s help, Ava might have lost this battle already.

  When a vampire went into bloodlust or when a werewolf turned without control, they poured chaos and madness. As a Dominion, Ava could track their emotions; she only needed to be close enough to the raging, murdering beast.

  Vampires could walk under the sun, but they preferred places with shadow. So did werewolves—hunters didn’t choose open spaces where they could easily be found. Which meant dark alleys were often a direct hit, and also how she’d gotten in this mess.

  “Calm down!” she yelled, her words turning into wisps of light that sunk into the vampire’s skin.

  Ava’s empathy worked wonders in humans, but the In-Betweens were much stronger.

  The vampire roared out all his fury and broke through Justine’s mind hold. Before Ava could jump off him, he slammed his back against the alley’s brick wall.

  If her golden shield hadn’t gone up in time, Ava would be healing organs and broken bones right now.

  She kept a firm hold on the vampire, even if her lungs felt like they’d been squashed—quite literally. Her golden shield might be strong, but it wasn’t impenetrable.

  “We’re trying to help you!”

  The vampire stopped and glared at Justine as if only now realizing she was here. His focus went to the blue backpack strapped over her shoulder.

  Justine swallowed and clutched the strap. “He caught the blood’s scent, didn’t he?”

  The vampire breathed loudly, every up and down of his back taking Ava along. Up, down … no sound in the alley apart from his breathing.

  Justine carefully stepped back. The vampire stepped forward. She stepped back again.

  He sprinted toward her.

  “Control the hunger!” Ava yelled.

  Wisps of light and flecks of black snow burst from Ava’s skin, penetrating deep into the creature’s body. The vampire stopped midway and slowly, his muscles relaxed.

  Ava gaped at him. This wasn’t her ordinary empathy, but she had no time to figure it out.

  “We’re on your side,” she continued, black snow and golden shine swimming from her pores into his. A mix of light and dark. “We want to help.”

  The creature’s shoulders dropped. His frantic breaths evened, and he shook his head.

  “We fight everything and everyone,” he growled before heaving a deep breath. “We’re tired.”

  “I know.”

  If the vampire could form coherent sentences, he probably wouldn’t lose control and attack them. Ava tentatively let him go and stepped on the ground.

  She motioned to the blue backpack strapped over Justine’s shoulder. Her friend took the cue and removed a bag of blood from inside, then shot it at the vampire.

  He grabbed it midair with a sniper’s precision and promptly poured its contents down his throat, smearing the sides of his lips with ruby-red lines.

  Once he was done, his constricted pupils dilated and his predatory white irises changed into a deep black. His sharp fangs retracted only a little.

  He glared at them as if he couldn’t believe angelic hands had been kind to him. “Thank you.”

  Ava smiled. “We do what we can.”

  “Fancy seeing you here, angel girl.” A sultry voice came from the mouth of the alley.

  Ava cringed.

  Gods, not her.

  She turned to see Lilith, who looked spectacular as always. Today, her hair was tied in a high ponytail, her red lipstick matching her tresses perfectly. The vampire queen wore a black bodysuit with a low-cut neckline that almost put her plump breasts fully on display.

  “I see you’ve already gotten help, Cristopher.” Lilith nodded to the street behind her. “Go aid your brothers.”

  “Yes, my queen.” The vampire gave Ava and Justine one last grateful glance before leaving.

  Ava crossed her arms. “What do you want, bloodsucker?”

  “Word on the street is that you’re helping my children.” Lilith pointed a red manicured nail at Ava as she walked into the alley. “I suppose I should thank you.”

  “I’m not doing this for you,” Ava spat. “If you and Lothar hadn’t attacked the Order, things would be different. Maybe the council would have listened to your pleas.”

  “You know that’s not true, angel girl.” Lilith’s irises bordered on neon blue as she walked closer. Predatory, merciless … beastly. “Our voices aren’t holy enough.”

  Ava scoffed, but Lilith was right. She couldn’t blame the Order’s lack of mercy and common sense on anything but the Order itself.

  Well, Talahel helped immensely.

  Justine stepped beside Ava and eyed Lilith with contempt. “If you’ll excuse us, we must find more In-Betweens to help.”

  “No need.” Lilith extended her palm to Justine. “I’ll deliver the blood.”

  “Tough luck, bitch.” Her friend clutched the backpack. “It stays with us.”

  Lilith rolled her eyes and raised her bronze eyebrows at Ava.

  As much as she disliked doing what the vampire queen wanted, Ava knew Lilith would do right by her people. Her vampires were her children, and she felt their loss like any mother would.

  “Lilith would never let them starve,” Ava told Justine.

  “Oh, really?” She studied the vampire’s sinuous curves. “This bloodsucker looks well fed. Much better than the man we just helped.”

  “You forget I’m one of the oldest vampires alive. I need less feeding to function, you dimwit.” Lilith spoke through gritted teeth, her fangs descending. “And you’ll be wise to refrain from insulting me.”

  “Lilith can also fight an Archangel,” Ava added. “Which means that unlike her children, she can risk openly feeding and transporting the blood.”

  Justine glanced at Ava, then Lilith. With one displeased grunt, she tossed the backpack at the vampire queen. “Whatever.”

  Lilith smiled as she caught the bag. “Don’t worry, angels. You can find cowardly werewolves to assist, so your day isn’t over yet.”

  She was right. Ava had helped three wolves shift back just the other day. Then again, Justine had to fling a fourth one miles away with her telekinesis so they could escape.

  It was always a gamble.

  Lilith turned to leave, but Ava couldn’t hold the question that itched in her tongue. “How’s Liam?”

  The vampire looked back at her. “Don’t worry, princess. I’m taking good care of him.”

  Fury forced Ava forward, her fists closing into balls. She would smack a punch on Lilith’s beautiful face, and she would thoroughly enjoy it.

  He won’t like h
er if we break her.

  The thought had come from her rift, but whether it belonged to light or dark, she couldn’t say.

  Probably the dark.

  Lilith faced her with eagerness, aching for battle as much as she did. But Justine grabbed Ava’s shoulder at the last minute, breaking her angry trance.

  Her friend scornfully eyed Lilith up and down. “Mr. Hunky would never go for a cheap-ass vamp.”

  Lilith grinned and licked her bottom lip. “Are you certain?”

  Ava saw red but managed to hurry past Lilith and out of the alley before ending the bloodsucker with her bare hands. Justine followed her.

  They had just stepped into the sunny sidewalk when Lilith asked, “How do you think Liam found you in the Legion?” She watched them from the penumbra of the alley, her neon blue eyes standing out like precious jewels. “You still have a connection with him. It’s weak, but it’s a bond nonetheless. Focus on him, and that Dominion power of yours might show you how he’s feeling. It might even help you locate him, though I’d advise against it. You don’t deserve him.” She bared her teeth at Ava, and her pretty face morphed into a devilish scowl with too many wrinkles. The face of a lion about to pounce. “Liam is too good for you.”

  Ava shattered into a million pieces. “I know.”

  “It’s not all your fault, I suppose.” The lion disappeared, giving way to a supernatural beauty that watched her with pity. “You have a knack for making men suffer, Ava Lightway. I can certainly relate.”

  That hungry, merciless voice from the rift—her own voice—whispered, not just men. We make everyone suffer.

  We are kind, her voice, soothing and calm this time, countered from the rift. We care for others.

  We burn them.

  We save them.

  Justine flipped Lilith her middle finger. “To the Hells with you, bloodsucker.” With that, she dragged Ava away.

  They walked in silence for a while until Justine huffed, “Lilith is a delight, isn’t she?”

  “It’s strange,” Ava muttered, her attention on the concrete but not really. She tried to listen to those voices of her own, but they had silenced. “I feel like I’m hanging between light and dark, and no matter which I choose, both will obliterate me.”

  Light and dark, Liam and Ezra. It was all connected.

  And nothing made sense.

  Justine frowned at her. “Now that’s just absurd—agh!” She bent over as if taken by immense pain. Screams ripped through her throat.

  “Heavens, Justine! What is it?”

  “Virtue Lisle!” She glared at Ava, catching her breath. Fear clotted around her in a cold gray mass. “My wall was down. He tracked me!”

  Ava’s throat dried, and she didn’t have time to think before two figures landed in front of them: Virtue Lisle accompanied by Ezra.

  The Messenger oozed despair and fear, his skin paler than usual. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” He took Ava in his arms, wrapping her so tightly she could barely breathe. “I’m so glad you’re safe.” His strong body shook against hers.

  She listened to the fast beating of his heart, trying to ignore the freezing worry that flowed from him. “Ezra, what’s going on?”

  “I thought I’d lost you, too.” He swallowed and let her go, still watching Ava as if he couldn’t believe she was here. “Vera is missing.”

  19

  Ava

  Virtue Lisle tirelessly led the way from the skies, flying ahead of Ava and Ezra. He focused on finding Vera’s telepathic presence down below, which was as easy as finding fur on a rattlesnake.

  Justine didn’t have wings, so she tried to catch Vera’s thoughts from the ground. There were eight million people in this city, however, and her friend was only one. Ava doubted the Throne herself could find someone in this manner.

  Still, her friend and Lisle tried until their faces went red. As night stretched ahead, exhaustion overtook Lisle and he nearly fainted in midair, his wings vanishing in the blink of an eye. Before Ava could react, Ezra had already caught him.

  “We need to rest,” the Messenger said begrudgingly as they took Lisle back to the Order.

  Ezra warned Jophiel that same night, and the Seraph employed every scarce resource of the Legion, including himself, to the search. But after two days, no one had a clue where Vera might be.

  She had simply vanished.

  On day four, Ava returned to the Order at night before her wings caved to exhaustion.

  She had visited Vera’s favorite spots: pier number seven, the hills, even the hot-dog seller on Eleventh and Fourth where Vera used to grab her Wednesday lunches. Unlike most Dominions who preferred to hide their presence with their essence, Vera only masked what could give her away—her uniform and wings.

  The man at the stall told Ava he hadn’t seen Vera since Tuesday, which was when she’d last seen the old owl herself.

  Another dead end.

  A grim sensation settled in Ava’s stomach as she cut across the night sky. Either Vera was hiding, or Talahel’s men had gotten to her.

  The need to cry squeezed her lungs, and it didn’t come from the painful stings that accompanied every flap of her worn out wings.

  The old owl had to be okay. She had to be in hiding for a reason. Yes, Vera would find a way to contact them soon, and she would explain all of it.

  Or so Ava kept telling herself.

  She landed clumsily on Ezra’s open balcony and saw the Messenger pacing around inside. His wings vanished into his light, which meant he hadn’t been here for long.

  The spherical chandelier that hung from the ceiling drenched the room in daylight. Ava noticed the sky-blue of the walls and the white marbled floor, finding it remarkable that while night engulfed the outside, here it was midday.

  “We’ll sleep for a couple of hours to regain our strength.” Ezra walked in circles, his arms crossed. “Then we start again.”

  She doubted he would sleep in this state. Vera was important to Ava, but she and Ezra had always shared a special bond.

  The Messenger had stopped hiding his despair, at least when Ava was around. Now it thundered inside him, shaking the core of her essence.

  Her wings vanished behind her as she laid a hand on the back of his shoulder. He stopped moving.

  “I can whisper the words of the Gods to you,” she said. “Maybe they will help you sleep.”

  Ezra turned to her, his features tired and yet loving. Kind. “Thank you, but you should rest.”

  He caressed her cheek and Ava leaned on his palm, rejoicing in its comfort. Ezra stepped forward, now looming over her.

  Their eyes locked and time stood still. Ava was exhausted, hurt, and lost.

  Lost within Ezra.

  “Ava, I …” he started, then bit his bottom lip. A string of silver hair brushed the side of his face. “We haven’t had time to—”

  A knock came from the door, breaking whatever trance had taken hold of her. Ava stepped back, half-frustrated and half-grateful for the interruption.

  Ezra’s hand hung in the air where her cheek had been, begging, waiting, until he finally dropped it. He cleared his throat and said, “Come in.”

  Sithrael entered. He feigned concern as he bowed to the Messenger and placed a hand over his own heart. “We’ve heard of Vera’s disappearance. The Sword has entrusted me with her rescue. I give you my heavenly word I will not rest until she’s found.”

  Blood thumped under Ava’s skull. She was done playing games with Talahel and his men. She bit her teeth and stomped toward the Archangel, trying to control the need for violence that bloomed inside her.

  “Touch a hair on her head,” she whispered, the wild voices inside her gathering into one, “and I will give you the death of your nightmares.”

  Sithrael grinned and bent over so his minted breath struck her face. “A meek little Guardian? I doubt it.”

  The beasts inside Ava smiled, and so did she. The masks were down.

  Finally.

&n
bsp; Sithrael went to leave, but Ezra moved the way lightning strikes. He trapped the Archangel in a deadly strong hold, his blade drawn at the villain’s neck. If Sithrael moved an inch, the Messenger’s holy sword would slash his throat.

  “You will stay here until Vera turns up,” Ezra barked through gritted teeth.

  “Are you disrupting the search for your mentor, my Messenger?” Sithrael asked with a hint of amusement. “That’s mighty suspicious. I wonder if you had anything to do with her disappearance.”

  Oh, that bastard!

  The Order belonged more and more to Talahel. Ava and Ezra’s hands were tied. Always tied.

  Ezra pressed the blade into his neck, opening a line that drooled blood. “Don’t you dare—”

  “Talahel knows I came here,” he said calmly, as if the healing wound on his neck was but a paper cut. “Keep me, and he will have grounds to charge you with obstruction.”

  Ezra kept holding him, his muscles stone. He was so close to killing Sithrael that Ava saw it happening. The beheading, the pool of blood. And she would let Ezra do it. Gods, the darkness inside her ached for bloodshed—so did her light. She didn’t know what to make of it.

  “Don’t let him go,” she told Ezra. “If he finds Vera, he’ll kill her.”

  Sithrael snickered. “What makes you think I haven’t already?”

  Ava narrowed her eyes, catching the distress and anxiety that tittered in his core. If he had killed Vera, he would be much calmer. Yes, Sithrael was worried. This could only mean one thing. “You’re looking for her because she found incriminating evidence against Talahel.”

  Sithrael’s eyes widened, and he lost his playfulness.

  Bingo.

  Ava gave him a ferocious grin that showcased her teeth. “Don’t worry. We’ll find her first. And when you fall, Sithrael, it will be glorious.”

  Disgust with a hint of fear wafted from him.

  Hmm, delicious.

  “Let me go,” he ordered.

  “I can’t let Ezra kill you,” Ava went on, watching Sithrael from head to toe. “Was that your plan all along? To bait him into murder so he would be removed from his duties as Messenger?” A fleck of surprise flashed across the Archangel’s eyes. “Ah, that was your boss’s plan, not yours. Interesting.”