Cursed Darkness (Angels of Fate Book 2)

by C. S. Wilde

  The Throne chortled. “That’s impossible. Angels are not allowed to have properties.”

  “We know.”

  “Look, it says here all these buildings belong to a Peter Miller.” Agathe pointed at a page.

  After Kevin found the first clue in Vera’s papers, it had been too easy. He logged into the Order’s system and hacked human real estate databases, seeking properties registered under the name of Peter Miller. In the end, the paper trail was spotless and he had a tight case against the Sword.

  “Peter Miller is Talahel.” Ava walked forward and flipped the pages, stopping at Peter Miller’s Selfless ID document which tied him to Talahel’s angelic identity. “Talahel was reborn as a Selfless in 1940.”

  Agathe scanned the pages with a frown, then motioned for Ava to continue.

  “At the time, the entire Order believed he was a most honorable high angel, since he left his duties to become human and directly help those in need. Every lower angel loved him for it. How noble he was.” Ava snorted. “It was also a cover-up. He bought properties under his human name but never gave them back to the Order. He’s been profiting from them for decades.”

  “If I recall correctly, he’d left Michael in charge,” Ezra added. “But I doubt he was involved.”

  “If Michael knew, he would’ve said something,” Agathe mumbled, no doubt in her tone as she scanned the folder.

  Finally, she dropped it on the table and leaned back on her chair, slamming both hands on her forehead. “Gods! How have my Virtues missed this?”

  “Virtue Locke has been in charge of auditing Selfless lives once they die and return as angels, so I’m guessing he’s involved.” Ava shrugged. “Talahel has many allies. He’s been playing this game for a long time.”

  “His wealth must be enormous.” The Throne hunched over the table and opened the file again, sifting through the pages. “There’s at least thirty properties listed in here, all scattered across town.”

  Ava nodded. “But why would he need the money? And what is he doing with it?”

  Agathe peered at her from below thin black eyebrows. “That’s what I’ll find out once I read his mind.” She stood and paced in circles. “Still, we must follow proper protocol. He can’t know what we’re up to, not until the last minute. Almost the entire Order stands with him.” Agathe bit her lips. “We must prepare, Ezra. Our brother has become more powerful than I’d like to admit.”

  Fear sipped into Ava’s chest, a soft sensation at first which grew into lung-crushing terror. She bent over, trying to catch a breath while holding the scream that pushed out.

  Something was wrong.

  “Ava!” Ezra rushed toward her. “Are you all right?”

  The strings of light and dark that connected her to Liam convulsed violently. Sweat beaded on her forehead, and dizziness nearly sent Ava toppling over her knees.

  He was in danger!

  “Ava?” Ezra called out, but it was too late.

  Her wings had already flashed behind her. She bolted through Agathe’s open window, following the quivering strings—the path to him.

  Chilly night air whipped against her, but Ava didn’t slow down. She had to get to Liam.

  Hold on, she begged through their connection, hoping that somehow he could listen.

  The lines of light and dark suddenly stilled.

  31

  Liam

  Master had rushed out of the warehouse to find Jophiel, but if there was anyone who could beat that megalomaniacal asshole, it was the Seraph. Liam had to believe this because he couldn’t run to his aid, not when an army of bloodthirsty demons closed in on him and Archie.

  Monumentally screwed didn’t even begin to cover their situation.

  Beside him, the old man unsheathed his sword and grabbed the holy gun underneath his jacket. He peered at the oncoming mass with a certain hunger. “You ready for this?”

  Liam glanced at the silver wolf claws on the cross guard of his—Michael’s—sword and unsheathed the weapon. With his free hand, he grabbed his holy gun from the holster. Well, it wasn’t holy anymore. Archie had cursed it, but the bullets could pierce through demonic flesh either way.

  Fear coursed through him, but he wore a mask of stone. Liam would die today, this was certain. How many of these fuckers he’d take along was the question.

  “Let him come to me!” Hauk bellowed beyond the wall of gnarling demons.

  They halted. Once again, the bodies stepped aside, forming a path to the center of the warehouse where Hauk waited for him.

  Liam stared right into the demon’s furious hazel eyes. A grin spread on his lips.

  This was the perfect way to go. He might’ve failed in his mission, but he wouldn’t fail avenging all those innocents.

  Hauk unsheathed his sword and pushed his new wife away.

  At first Dhalia shook her head and clung to him, but when Hauk grabbed her forcefully by the back of her neck and ordered her to go, she obeyed. The leader of the Gorge didn’t tolerate disobedience, and the girl must’ve learned that quickly.

  He bared his teeth at Liam. “You fooled me.”

  “Wasn’t that hard.” Liam clicked his tongue as he entered the path walled by demons. “You’re really stupid.”

  Hauk oozed death and cruelty. “I’ll enjoy killing you.”

  With one hand, Liam swung his sword in circles. Fire bloomed from his skin and through his cursed clothes. “Remember what I did to your pretty face? I was a baby demon then. Imagine what I can do now.”

  “You’re still only a Terror.” Puffy shadows spread behind the Gorge’s leader, soon giving place to gray wings without scales. “And back then, you caught me by surprise. You won’t be so lucky this time.”

  “I burned an Archangel to death.” Liam’s throat might be walled by splinters. The flames around him intensified, enveloping his body in blazing fury. “I was weaker than her, too.”

  Hauk snorted. “She was impaired by the cursed cuffs. I gave her to you on a platter, weak little Terror.”

  “Excuses, excuses.” He clicked his tongue. “But don’t you worry. I’ll avenge her tonight.”

  In the corner of the warehouse, Hauk’s bride curled into a ball as she watched their stand-off with horror. A thorny needle pierced Liam’s chest. Yes, tonight he would avenge them all, and then he’d die with a clear conscience.

  Not such a bad way to go.

  “Son?” Archie called out from behind, his attention on the demons who watched the old man intently. His father moved one step forward, and the wall of demons stepped in his way, blocking him.

  Hauk’s invitation was for one man only.

  Liam turned back, agony squeezing his chest. He would never see Archie again. “Watch out for yourself, Dad.”

  He moved ahead and toward Hauk, who eagerly waited for him. The demon snarled through clenched teeth, “You’re wise to say goodbye to your papa.”

  “I know.” Liam stopped in front of him and set his fighting stance, raising his sword.

  He was ready.

  “You never think strategically. So cocky …” Hauk smirked, then nodded to a demon in the crowd. “How about we tire you up before our final showdown?”

  A bulky Behemoth stepped from the mob into the arena. Hells, that woman was as big as Abrielle.

  “Sending others to do your dirty work?” Liam teased. “Are you scared, Hauk?”

  The Behemoth bellowed a war cry and rushed to Liam before he got an answer. He kept his attention locked on Hauk, who had stepped aside to watch. He winked at the Gorge’s leader, raised his gun, and shot a red blast straight into the woman’s forehead.

  She fell on the floor with a mighty boom, but she’d recover soon. Had the bullet been blessed, she probably would have never risen again.

  Hauk urged the next in line forward, a Terror with red irises and a long beaky nose that made him resemble a stork. He rushed to Liam, wielding his sword the way one wields a cement block: with effort and no grace.


  Liam’s blade cut through the air and the demon’s neck. His head fell on the ground, and his body toppled forward, almost reaching Liam’s foot. Specks of blood splattered on the tips of his boots.

  “Is that all you’ve got?” Liam asked.

  A loud grumble rang from above, and he spotted a navy-winged demon with sandy blond hair crossing the air, followed by a Drakar with canary yellow wings.

  Archie? What was he doing?

  The punch came out of nowhere, sending Liam to the dusty ground. He rolled sideways and jumped to his feet just in time to dodge another punch from Juniper.

  “Let’s make this interesting,” Hauk’s fuck buddy said as she stepped back, gaining momentum for an attack. She watched Liam with a mix of lust and anger.

  Fire bloomed on her skin as she ran toward him, bellowing her lungs out. He shot at her, again and again, but Juniper dodged the blasts all too quickly.

  A Terror’s speed was no joke.

  “Screw this.” He put down his gun and summoned the flames.

  From his greatest depths, something else replied. Something wild and furious that had been asleep until now.

  Free us, his own voice echoed in his ears.

  Well, he didn’t have much of a choice.

  A black firestorm shot from his arm, engulfing Juniper in roaring onyx flames. Heat blurred the air around them, and most demons stepped back.

  Juniper didn’t have time to scream; she had already turned into a pile of ashes. The black flames showed her remains to Liam’s darkness like a cat showed a dead mouse to its owner, hoping to receive praise.

  The demons watched each other with a mix of fear and confusion. Heck, Liam was shocked too, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it.

  A vein popped on Hauk’s forehead. “End him!”

  Liam’s dark flames spread in a small circle on the ground around him, buying him some time. He grabbed his gun and shot at the demons who dared to come close. His flames gave way to the bullets, otherwise they’d melt when crossing his fire—he didn’t have a clue how he knew that, but he did.

  We are one.

  Three demons went down on the other side, and when he pulled the trigger on the fourth, he heard an empty click.

  Fan-fucking-tastic.

  He tossed the gun aside and grabbed his sword with both hands. Sweat bloomed on his forehead, and his muscles ached. He hadn’t fought much, but using black fire clearly sucked his energy.

  Enemies approached from all angles, closing in on him.

  This was it. His fire would wane soon—he already felt its intensity dimming by the second—and then Liam would be dead and gone.

  He had to find a way to Hauk before that.

  Glass cracked from the warehouse’s front windows, and a winged figure cut through the air, close enough for Liam to spot wine colored scales that became black at the tips.

  Jal!

  The onyx flames retreated back into Liam’s essence just as his friend landed beside him. Liam glared at his own hands, still not understanding how he could create scorching black flames.

  “Hey there, buddy.” Jal winked at him. “How about we make this even?”

  Either he was overly confident, or he’d lost his mind. How could two demons overpower a small army?

  The Gorge was about to charge at them when growls and barks burst from the entrance. The stench of wet fur and old blood overtook Liam’s nostrils as a sea of werewolves and vampires crashed into the warehouse, destroying the large door and windows.

  Strong arms grabbed Liam from behind and boosted him up, snatching him away from battle. Down below, he spotted Jal punching a demon, and Lilith biting into a second-tier’s neck. Not far from them, a big werewolf with caramel fur ripped an enemy’s leg to shreds.

  Suther.

  “I need you safe, kid,” Archie shouted, his grip on Liam’s shoulders stone-hard.

  He thrashed under his father’s hold, his feet dangling in the air, but Archie didn’t release him. “Come on, old man! I can fight!”

  “Those black flames were your hellsfire, Liam! No Terror has ever been able to use them, and only a few Drakars can summon this power.”

  Maybe he was right. Liam had never seen Jal use black fire. “Then take me back so I can kick their asses!”

  “You don’t get it! This kind of power consumes you faster. You’re not used to it and—” A Drakar caught Archie’s foot midflight and flung him against a wall.

  The old man smashed on the concrete but not before he dropped Liam, saving him from the impact.

  He landed with a thud and damn close to Jal. Liam looked up to see Archie quickly recovering and kicking the Drakar’s ass. He smiled with pride. He expected nothing less from his father.

  “Back already?” Jal’s wings vanished behind him, and he unsheathed an obsidian sword from his belt.

  Liam had never seen a blade like that. Like the night and twinkling stars. It was magnificent.

  A group of demons approached them. Jal fixed his base and raised his sword. So did Liam, but when he looked at his hand, he wondered how far his hellsfire could go. He tried summoning it but couldn’t reach that deep void inside him.

  Come on!

  The incoming demon, a Beast, rushed toward him. Liam shot his normal blazing flames. They might not be hellsfire, but they turned the demon’s skin into a nasty shade of red peppered by blisters.

  Even covered by third-degree burns, the guy didn’t stop.

  “How do I summon the black flames again?” Liam shouted as he gripped his sword harder.

  “You can’t. You used a lot of energy,” Jal said casually as a sphere of darkness peppered by purple lightning birthed from his palm. “You need to recharge.”

  He shot the sphere toward the mess of burnt flesh heading toward them, and it pierced a hole through the demon’s trunk. The lifeless body fell backward.

  “It would be helpful if you ascended sometime soon.” Jal’s eyes glinted with excitement. “Imagine what you could do as a Drakar with that hellsfire of yours.”

  The dead demon’s companions rushed toward them, but Jal shrugged nonchalantly, as if the murderous monsters falling upon them were nothing but harmless children.

  Liam’s darkness spread underneath his skin, and when he dodged an incoming demon—another Beast—his movements became blurs.

  He never felt so light.

  The demon watched the empty space where Liam was standing a second ago. Before he could turn around, Liam slashed his blade through the back of the demon’s neck, then yanked the sword out and swiveled as the next one charged from behind.

  He ducked and slammed the blade through the demon’s stomach, pushing it up and cutting through half of his trunk.

  Amidst the madness of clashing bodies, he found Hauk, who’d just finished killing a vamp.

  Fire burst not only on his skin but inside him. “Time for your reckoning, boss.”

  Liam jolted toward him, but Jal grabbed him from behind and flung him against a wall.

  “He’s much more powerful than you,” the demon shouted as he rushed toward Hauk. “I’ll take care of it!”

  “You bastard!” Liam barked, but it was useless. Jal was already neck-deep in battle with the Gorge’s leader.

  “It ends now, traitor.” The voice rang from his left.

  Five second-tiers closed in on him. Their draconian wings were splashed with vampire and werewolf blood; he could smell the stench of wet fur and old blood coating the demons’ own scent of brimstone.

  Anger swirled inside Liam in synchrony with his flames as he sprinted toward the first Behemoth. The demon was caught by surprise, an incredulous look on his face.

  Did he expect Liam to cower? He should’ve know better.

  Liam jumped and fire-punched the demon’s head, just like he’d once done with Hauk. Liam kept pressing his fist into the demon’s skull until he reached his brain. It might not be enough to kill, but it was enough to neutralize him. The tissue charred under his fla
mes, and then the demon slumped on the floor.

  Only four remained.

  The one on the right snarled and unsheathed his sword as he charged at Liam. He blocked the attack—remarkable, really, since the demon weighed a ton.

  A sudden sharp pain bloomed from his back. A second blade had slashed a deep gash in his skin, tearing through muscle.

  Unfair game.

  Liam fell to his knees, holding back a painful yelp. Warm liquid spread on his back and drenched his shirt.

  “You ruined my jacket, asshole,” he grumbled to the demon behind him as he gingerly took off what remained of the piece. He let it splay on the ground, a certain ache piercing his chest as if he’d lost a dear friend.

  “We don’t want you dead yet, traitor.” A bald demon stepped closer and punched Liam’s head so hard that the ring on his finger cut a line across his forehead. “But when we’re done, you’ll beg us to end you.”

  Blood poured down the left side of Liam’s face and bloomed in his mouth—he had bit his tongue. His hearing and vision faded only for a moment. “If you were able to kill me, you would’ve done it already.” He spat blood at the demon’s feet. “Fucking wuss.”

  That did it. The demons surrounded him, their blades in hand and murder in their eyes. Flames sprouted from the Drakar’s body as the Behemoth on the left shapeshifted into a creature with sharp claws and lizard skin that reminded him of a chimera.

  The two other Drakars created the same vacuum sphere Jal had used, only one’s lightning was red and the other’s green.

  Up near the ceiling, Archie fought against the demon with yellow wings, his head coated with blood—like father like son— but when he glanced down at Liam, despair cut through his face.

  “No!” he bellowed.

  His opponent took advantage of the distraction and punched Archie, shooting him through the ceiling.

  A cloud of dust and debris fell down not far from where Liam kneeled.

  Watch out for yourself, old man.

  He took a deep breath and observed the demons, the four horsemen of his apocalypse. He forced himself up into a fighting stance. His knuckles were white from holding his sword too tight.