by C. S. Wilde
“He will.” He raised his hands as if she were a wild animal he tried to tame. “If you let hate consume you, princess, you might never come back from the darkness. I’ve looked into that abyss, and it nearly destroyed me. I can’t let that happen to you.”
She stood there, frozen midway, her throat tightening as she took in his words. Slowly, Ava lowered her blade, even if every fiber in her being urged her to kill Talahel.
“Fools,” the Sword grumbled.
Red lightning flashed behind Liam’s back, hitting him with a fury. It shot him past Ava and close to the edge of the rooftop.
Her soulmate crouched on the concrete, his wings burned and tattered. He held gut-wrenching howls in his throat, his body shaking from all the pain.
Ava glared at Talahel as wrath, scorching and unmerciful, took over.
He hurt our Liam, the light whispered.
Make him pay, the dark begged.
She would, pets. She definitely would.
Talahel leaned against the column as he pushed himself up. His red blast had taken a toll on him, and he fell to his knees only to force himself up again. “The Order would’ve thrived under my command!”
“Thrived?” Ava gnarled through bared teeth. “You nearly destroyed it!”
“Ava, don’t!” Liam shouted from behind, but she barely registered his plea.
A certain serenity took over as she raised her sword. With one big swipe, Ava sliced off Talahel’s left wing, then his right. They fell in bloodied slumps beside him.
The screams that erupted from his throat were music to her ears.
Yes, Ava would slaughter him, but he must suffer first.
“You whore!” he barked, spit forming on the corners of his mouth. “I’ll kill you!”
Pluck his fingernails, then his eyes; pluck him like a grape from the cluster. The idea had come from beyond the darkness; somewhere Ava couldn’t find within herself.
A stabbing pain spread over her stomach, and she bent over. Horrid screams pierced the air, and she realized they’d come from her.
Numbing her pain centers had stopped working.
Ava swallowed and tried her best to ignore the maddening ache. Her vision blurred, and she shook her head. Drops of sweat dripped over her eyes.
Not now! She was so close!
She managed one recomposing breath. She didn’t have time to play with Talahel, not before she lost consciousness.
Better get to it then.
She raised her sword with difficulty. “Say your prayers.”
Someone grabbed her shoulder and yanked her away. Ava crashed with her back to the floor. She forced her head up and through her fuzzy eyesight, she spotted two figures clashing ahead.
Bones snapped, or maybe it was wood cracking; she couldn’t tell the difference. Flesh ripped as a body split in two.
Not in equal parts, though.
The remaining figure held a severed head. The spine dangled from where the neck ended.
The figure turned to her, and panic took over. Liam had wings. Where were the shape’s wings? They had to be there, they… they weren’t.
No. No, no …
Darkness filled her vision, but Ava forced it away. If Talahel had killed Liam, she would bring the Hells upon the Earth, and she would take her revenge to the Gods themselves.
Curse them! Curse them for all eternity!
“Liam!” His name thrashed through her throat as tears spilled down her cheeks.
Silence replied.
We’ll destroy everything, the voice inside her snarled.
The back of her skull hit the floor. She was so weak …
“Liam, please!” She’d meant to yell, but what came out was a broken croak.
Darkness blinded her for a moment, and when she blinked, he was staring down at her, his green eyes sparkling with humor. “Why, princess, can’t you spend five minutes away from me?”
She smiled and cried violently. Her chest convulsed with sobs as she cupped his cheeks and kissed him.
Liam was safe. The Gods were good.
She promised to pray for their forgiveness later.
The blinding pain in her stomach returned without mercy. Ava held a yelp, but soon millions of cold fingers swam underneath her skin, reacting to the darkness in her.
Her wounds began to heal, and her internal organs stopped bleeding. Liam’s darkness washed through her as he watched her with love.
“What about your wings?” she asked.
“Tucked them into my darkness. I can worry about them later. Your wounds are way worse than mine.” He brushed a stray lock off her forehead. “Sorry I took the killing blow from you.”
He wasn’t sorry at all. Relief flowed from him in soft clouds.
That strange voice inside her cursed Liam for stealing Talahel’s death. But the angel she had once been—and still strived to be—thanked her soulmate with all her might.
“I think you saved me,” she said quietly. “In more ways than one.”
“I know.” He grinned down at her. “Now, how about those holidays we talked about?”
38
Liam
The next morning, the Order’s hallway was packed with angels, Selfless, In-Betweens, and priests of the Gray. It made for a nice image: all the supernaturals together in the same room for the first time since, well, ever.
Except for demons. Liam, Jal, and Archie were the only children of the dark there.
They wouldn’t have minded, but some of the remaining angels and In-Betweens glared at them with reproach. Those ungrateful idiots had fought with them side by side, and they still didn’t trust them.
He rolled his eyes. They had proven themselves again and again.
When would it be enough?
“There aren’t many of us left,” Ava said from beside him as she observed a group of angels on the right.
Liam squeezed her hand and hated that he felt her pain and sorrow through their bond. There was nothing he could do to ease it other than to be here. So he wrapped his arm around Ava’s shoulders and brought her to him.
“Most Virtues and Erudites are mind-sweeping an entire quarter. There are more of you out there.” He kissed the top of her head.
Liam guessed there couldn’t be more than five hundred angels scattered around the Order, plus some two hundred children of the God of Knowledge and Logic out there, erasing people’s memories of the battle.
That was all that remained from the Order. Hells, they used to number thousands.
All angels in the hallway wore white bodysuits with white kilts. There was no difference between them, other than the fact that some had wings and others didn’t. Even the few Warriors and Archangels who had fought against Talahel wore white.
Since Ezraphael was the only remaining high angel in the Order, he’d decided to change a few things. From now on, angels could be differentiated by their powers but not by their status. Which meant that an ascended was officially no better than a lower angel—who were now either called third-tiers or young angels. According to Ezraphael, the terminology was demeaning. After all, there was nothing low about them.
The Messenger—if this was still his title—might not be Liam’s favorite person, but the guy had principles.
Liam pointed to the winged angels in the crowd. “Why are they showing them off?”
“I suppose it’s a way to mourn the fallen. And to show pride,” Ava explained.
Odd that she didn’t have hers on display.
“Ava!” Justine shouted as she entered the hallway.
Ava gasped, and so did Liam. Justine had wings! Gradient pink and yellow, as if the sun was setting on her feathers.
She ran toward Ava, who hugged her with strength. “You’ve ascended!”
“I did!” She stepped back and showed her the wings, which wiggled behind her playfully. “Badass bitch that I am.”
The two of them talked eagerly as Liam looked around. He remarked something about Justine taking a break from
wiping people’s minds to come and say hello, but then he zoned out of their conversation entirely.
At first, the groups of supernaturals had gathered in circles around the hall. Wolves and vamps had been standing on the far left, angels, Selfless, and priests of the Gray on the right. Slowly, though, angels walked to the In-Betweens and started conversations. So did the Selfless and the Gray, until the entire hallway had become a mass of creatures who used to hate each other but were now united under the same flag.
Small drones zinged in the air above, carrying cameras that would broadcast Jophiel’s speech to all branches of the Order around the world.
“Oy!” Kevin waved from a mixed group of angels and wolves.
He went to Liam and was quickly followed by Archie and Jal, who had been standing in a corner.
Archie held the hand of an angel with short pixie hair. Did he get a girlfriend when Liam wasn’t watching?
The woman trapped him in a bear hug that was surprisingly strong considering her petite physique. “I’m so proud of you,” she said, her voice hoarse with tears.
Liam frowned and was about to ask who the Hells she was when she let him go.
In the angel’s brown eyes, he spotted an old woman with dark gray hair and a lifetime of battle on her shoulders. She had the same button-like nose and haircut as the Cap.
Heavens, she looked so young! And she had her eyes! She had her eyes, and she was okay.
He hugged her back and sniffed back tears to avoid the indignity of crying in front of everyone. “Hey, Cap,” he croaked.
“Hey, kid.” She caressed the back of his head the way a mother would. She then stepped back to Archie, who intertwined his fingers with hers.
Liam pointed to the two of them. “I always knew this was a thing, you know.”
They exchanged a giddy glance which reminded Liam of the teenagers they must’ve been once.
The shuffling of feeble, weak feet on the marbled floor was quiet and yet so loud. All voices in the hall silenced.
Ezraphael helped Jophiel walk. The Seraph was still recovering from Master’s attack, but at least the golden veins had disappeared from his skin.
They went slowly, catching the attention of the entire room. The crowd parted and cleared a path to the center of the hall. Finally, they stopped under the round chandelier that resembled a small sun.
Jophiel let out his light. It flowed from him in warm, soothing waves. Like he was a star that shone with peace and love.
Everyone in the room bowed to him. Wolves, humans, angels, demons, vamps—every single one of them. Liam and Ava included.
“Rise,” he ordered, and so they did.
The Seraph wore a white tunic that matched his white hair and beard. Liam suspected the days of Jophiel’s heavy metal T-shirts and ripped jeans were over. It saddened him in a way, but the Seraph winked at him playfully.
Maybe those days weren’t over yet.
Wrinkles cut across night-dark skin that had been flawless only a few days ago. Jophiel looked so much older. If Master had weakened him this much from a distance, what could he do to … Liam gazed at Ava, who stood beside him. He pulled her closer as a mix of fear and anger overtook him.
Master’s deep, unearthly voice echoed in his mind. “Do you stop the sun from rising or the night from falling?”
His throat tightened.
Ezraphael stepped away, giving the space to Jophiel. The Seraph forced his spine straight, tied both hands behind his back, and observed all the supernaturals around him.
The drones hovered frantically above, ready to stream Jophiel’s speech to the Order’s branches. Blue holo-screens blinked to life on the white marbled walls. They showcased angels gathered in rooms all around the world, eager to listen.
“Yesterday, the Order fell,” Jophiel’s voice boomed across the hall. “Today, it rises again as the Legion. But if we’re to strive against the oncoming darkness, we must embrace our brothers and sisters who fight for good, no matter their origin.” He nodded gracefully at Lilith and Suther, then bowed his head to the priests of the Gray and the Selfless. He smiled at Liam, Archie, and Jal. “Even if they come from the dark, let us welcome them, for they renounced evil to stand in the light. Good comes in many forms, not only angelic ones. What happened yesterday was proof. We must understand this if we’re to grow as a unified front against the surging demonic threat.”
The holo-screens showed faces full of doubt. Even in the hallway, some angels stared at each other with apprehension.
“How are we to achieve this goal, my Seraph?” asked an angel not far from Liam.
“We’ll bring the leaders of every branch around the world to the headquarters for training. They have been warned and eagerly wait.” The Seraph must’ve sensed the hesitation that poured from the faces in the screens and through the hallway. “The transition won’t be easy, but against our unified front, the emerging darkness will fall. I am the King of the first Heaven, and I won’t fail you.”
He had to remind them of who he was. That’s all it took. Applause burst from the screens and the hall, echoing wildly around them.
Jophiel waited for them to fade. “From now on, brothers and sisters, we are equals. Surely, we have different power ranges and different needs, but we’re connected by our will to help others regardless of our past or origins.”
“Pardon me, my king,” an angel said from a screen on the upper right. He had long dark hair and wore a white bodysuit. Liam could see the eye of London in the background. This guy must represent the European branch of the Order. “We’re meant to fight a demonic threat.” He shot Liam, Archie, and Jal a disdainful glance. “We cannot accept demons in our Legion.”
“I must agree,” said a woman with a shaved head beyond another screen, her thick Swahili accent evident in her words. “Vampires and werewolves can be redeemed. But demons? Never!”
The first angel nodded. “Demonic attacks are growing throughout the world, my king. We cannot be expected to fight the dark by letting it in.”
Jophiel and Ezraphael tried to argue, but the angels on the screens had made their decision. The discussion turned into muffled sounds Liam easily dismissed.
He already knew the outcome.
Ava watched him with worry. “Gods, this isn’t fair.”
He kissed her cheek. “I know.”
Archie’s face showed no surprise. “Well, that’s angelic gratitude for you.” He cast a longing glance at the Cap and held her hand tighter. “Guess we’ll have to be like Romeo and Juliet, darling.”
She winked at him. “Should be fun.”
Eeew! Archie was his father, and the Cap the closest thing Liam had to a mother. Could they please avoid flirting in front of him?
Kevin shook his head. “This is rubbish.”
“It really is.” Justine hugged herself and leaned on his left shoulder.
“I never cared about the Legion anyway.” Jal shrugged, but his bitter tone guaranteed the opposite.
“You won’t get rid of us so easily, Jal of Jaipur,” Lilith’s voice came from behind. She stepped closer, accompanied by Suther. “I don’t care what those stupid angels say. You will fight with us whether the Legion agrees or not.”
The demon gave her an adoring grin, then ran a hand through his loose black hair. “You can’t live without me, can you, Lil?”
She tapped him playfully on his chest but didn’t deny it.
Liam didn’t give a rat’s ass about the Legion not accepting him. Master wanted Ava, and the bastard was out there.
Waiting.
He pulled his soulmate aside and grabbed her hands, pressing her palms to his chest. “We always chose duty over ourselves.”
The glimmer in her blue eyes told him she understood what he meant. His beautiful, loving soulmate leaned on the tips of her toes and pecked him on the lips. “I think it’s time we choose us, don’t you think?”
“So that vacation …”
“… starts now.”
Oh, his perfect woman. How happy she made him.
The Hells he would let Master ever get to her.
Liam felt bad about keeping his true motivations from her, but he figured getting Ava out of town was more important than his guilt.
“I heard about this little deserted island in the Pacific,” he said casually.
With one golden flash, Ava’s feathery white wings flapped behind her. A brush of darkness sprouted on Liam’s back, and then his obsidian wings spread wide.
“Ready?” Ava’s feet left the ground. So did his.
He had seen what Master wanted: the bloodthirsty Valkyrie that lived inside her, next to the kind Guardian.
Fire and ice. Darkness and light.
Liam had to keep her safe, no matter what. He gave her his hand. “Always.”
With that, they flew through an open window and soared into the sky.
Find out what happens next in SACRED WAR, the final book in the Angels of Fate series. Coming to you in 2021!
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