When she’d had her fill, her mind cleared. She’d killed him. The guilt came immediately, hanging on her heart like a beehive on a thin branch, too heavy to withstand. She cried again, this time not because she missed her daughter, but because she missed herself.
Chapter 18
Phindi looked over her troops, more than two thousand strong, faces smeared in red paint to honor their Queen and flame lily petals covering their armor. They carried swords, machetes, and daggers, their bodies tense in anticipation of battle and their hearts set on revenge. They waited, somewhat impatiently, for the order from the general-turned-Duchess as she assessed the opposition that approached from less than fifteen thousand yards away. Most marched forward while others stood guard at the entrance to a narrow canyon. Beyond that, she knew, was where the so-called King was hiding.
She pounded her assegai on the desert floor as her soldiers stomped in unison, whooping and snarling, anxious to get to the fight. She lifted her spear and the crowd went quiet. She turned to face the oncoming enemy and shouted in her native tongue, “Iwa!”
They shot themselves as if from a cannon at the other side, piercing hearts and slicing off heads with relative ease. The enemy army wore no armor, instead donning the same green, hooded cloaks as the men that stormed her sanctuary. Though not a match for Phindi’s trained soldiers, they outnumbered them three to one. It would take time, skill, and luck for her side to prevail. The King’s men refused to back down, even as their numbers dwindled, death coming to them bloody and swift. Some seemed to carry no weapons and hurled themselves at the soldiers like cannon fodder, their skin burning as it touched the petals soaked in the sap of the flame lilies that Phindi had concentrated.
She plowed through the hooded men, butchering one after another as they came for her. It seemed too easy as the armies now became evenly numbered, Phindi losing five hundred or so soldiers to their forty-five-hundred dead. As she got closer to the entrance, she felt a sharp sting in her shoulder followed by a heat spreading through her arm. She turned her head to see herself bleeding from what looked like a bullet wound emitting a bright, white light. “UV bullets,” she hissed, digging the projectile out of her flesh and crushing it in her fist. Shots rang out as the traitors opened fire, the Queen’s army dropping like flies to the blood-stained sand. “Get the guns!” she ordered, flying through the crowd, chopping off hands and collecting the weapons more modern than her own and using them against their previous possessors. Her soldiers obeyed, attacking their enemies even in the face of death. Most were mowed down, but others were successful in their efforts, retrieving guns for themselves and slaughtering the hooded men that stood between them and the King.
In the end, every traitor was killed along with more than nineteen-hundred of Phildi’s soldiers. Only eighty-six faithful remained, bloodied and bruised, but not broken. They made their way to the entrance, hell-bent on taking down the would-be King once and for all. But, as Phindi began to step through, a light flashed, filling the canyon and searing the exposed skin of her hand and arm. She yelped, jumping back, her face twisted in rage. “Take the cloaks!” she commanded, rushing to the corpse of a fallen traitor and stripping the body of its hood. She winced, recognizing the man as one of her own soldiers. He’d gone missing the day of the battle in Iraq. She’d assumed he’d been killed there. She never would have suspected him of being a turncoat. Her disappointment only fueled her anger as she covered herself and marched back to the canyon. A few of her soldiers beat her to it, though, eager to avenge their brothers and sisters, but even through the fabric of the cloaks, their blood boiled, their skin swelling and turning purple as they cooked from the inside out. Their screams echoed in the night as they perished faster than if they’d been standing in direct sunlight. Whatever was lighting up the canyon was far more powerful than anything Phindi had ever seen.
“What do we do now, Your Grace?” a soldier asked.
She thought for a moment, tapping her assegai on the ground, livid and disappointed in herself. “The only thing we can do. I will contact the Queen for further instructions.”
Wyatt sat staring at the bottle of whiskey on his coffee table, alone, his chest heavy and his stomach in knots. No matter how hard he tried to convince himself that leaving Allydia had been the right thing to do, he couldn’t get her out of his mind. The look on her face when he ended things, the quivering of her lip as he kissed her goodbye, and the smell of gardenia that lingered in the air crushed him and no amount of advice or therapy helped. He was lost for her and fighting the urge to run back to her and beg forgiveness was even more painful than missing her.
He rocked the bottle back and forth, his lips pursed, and his eyes slits as he fought to maintain control. A single tear slid down his cheek and he wiped it away, a low growl in his throat as he covered his mouth, his leg shaking.
Outside, Allydia watched, sorrow meeting concern as she cursed the glass between them, wishing with everything in her that she could be inside where she belonged. She belonged with him and she would find a way.
“Yes,” she said, answering her phone. As she listened to Phindi’s account of the battle in Jordan, fire replaced the emptiness in her gut. “I’m on my way.”
“With respect, Your Majesty,” Phindi said. “It is not safe. Even you won’t survive this light weapon. How will you protect yourself?”
“I’m not coming alone.” She ended the call and leaped down to the street, on her way to call in a favor.
Inside, Wyatt breathed a heavy sigh, standing from his seat and taking the bottle to the kitchen. He opened it and poured the contents into the sink, watching with a twinge of regret as it disappeared down the drain. He tossed the bottle in the trash and was suddenly smacked in the face by the overpowering scent of lavender. He slowly made his way back to the living room where there, sitting on the couch as if she owned it, was his dead wife’s ghost. His heart skipped a beat as he caught his breath. She was beautiful, as stunning as the day they were married. His eyes pooled as she turned to look at him, a kind smile on her soft pink lips.
“Come sit with me,” she said, her voice like a song in his ears. He did as he was told, unable to take his eyes off of her, her skin glowing, her hair like gold. “How are you, really?”
“I-I don’t know. Sad, I guess. Stressed. Worried.”
“About what?”
Tears fell as his face remained still. “Will. He doesn’t think I see it, but I know he’s feeling shaky. I’m afraid of what he’ll do and I’m scared that I’ll,” he swallowed a lump in his throat as more tears trailed down his cheeks.
“You don’t have to worry about Will,” she told him. “He’ll be just fine, I promise.”
“How can you know that?”
“Where I am, there’s no such thing as not knowing.”
“Then why’d you ask how I was?”
“Because you needed to say it out loud. Now, tell me about the vampire.”
“Are you sure? That seems kind of inappropriate.”
She laughed. “Maybe, but you need to work out your feelings before something bad happens. I don’t want to see you up here for a long long time. So, spill. What’s the dilemma?”
“She’s a murderer that threatened our son’s life. She had his girlfriend in a cage in a dungeon.”
“True, but she loves you.”
He wiped more tears from his face. “That doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it does. She can make her threats all day, but she would never lay a hand on Will. She knows you’d never forgive her if she did. She is head over heels. She loves you as much as I do and trust me, that’s a lot. She will never hurt Will or you. As far as her being a murderer, that’s horrible and it might take some effort for you to look past it, but for your sanity, you should really consider it.”
“You’re serious?”
“I know you, Wyatt. You need her. She keeps you from falling apart.”
“You’re not wrong about that,” he conceded.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, baby. I had no idea--”
“I know. It’s okay. Dying wasn’t the best time I’ve ever had, but holding Will and looking down into that sweet baby’s face was well worth it. I have no regrets. Now, I have to go, but I want you to promise me that you’ll take care of yourself.”
He took a shaky breath. “I promise.”
“And, Wyatt, I want you to know this, I mean really know it. What happened to me wasn’t your fault.”
He nodded.
“You’re a good dad, Wyatt. I’m sorry I ran away without telling you you were gonna be one. I should have trusted you. You should trust yourself now. Do what’s in your heart.” She blew him a kiss and faded, disappearing, the scent of lavender scrubbed from the air.
He fell back in his seat, wiping away the remaining tears, his head spinning. “Do what’s in my heart.” He sat up, resting his elbows on his knees, covering his face, and screaming into his hands.
Chapter 19
It had been hours and Michelle was still not back from her walk. Will paced the floor of the living room as the others slept, his head pounding and his blood pressure climbing. His mind raced with worry as his heart drummed in his ears. He looked again at the picture of his daughter on his phone, hoping the image would calm him. Instead, it triggered a borage of intrusive thoughts and paranoid delusions. His brain filled with images of her being hurt, beaten and drowned all at the hands of his devilish uncle. He tried to shake them, telling himself they weren’t real, that Lucifer had no idea she existed. But, the visions kept coming, flashing in his mind in bits and pieces, eventually replacing all logic with a rabid sense of urgency. His breathing quickened and his steps became deliberate, taking him swiftly to his uncle’s bedroom.
He threw the door open and pounced, leaping onto the bed and wrapping his hands around Lucifer’s throat.
“What mischief is this?” he choked, but as he grabbed his nephew’s arms to pull them away, white-hot electricity flowed through them causing him to seize, the skin of his neck crackling like bacon.
“I won’t let you hurt her!” Will screamed, his eyes wild, his cheeks red. “I’ll kill you before I let you anywhere near her!”
Foam dribbled from Lucifer’s mouth as he shook. Finally, he was able to push the boy off, but he came right back, punching him in the jaw with electrified fists.
“Damn it, Will!” Gabriel yelled, using her telekinesis to toss him to the floor. He stood, moving like a predator back to the bed. She waved her hand, pushing him back against the wall and holding him there. “The fuck’s your problem?”
“He’s rambling on about me doing harm to his girlfriend as if I have any interest in that.” Lucifer healed, getting out of bed and cracking his neck. “While I do find vampires generally to be vile and ridiculous creatures, she seems perfectly--”
Will broke free of Gabriel’s hold and jumped onto the bed, balls of lightning at the ready as he fixed his gaze on his stunned uncle.
“Somnus,” they heard from the hall. Will collapsed, unconscious, his head hitting the pillow as if it belonged there. They turned to see Wendy, arms folded, shaking her head. “The violence in this family, I swear. You should really work on just loving each other. You okay?”
“No worse for the wear. If you’ll excuse me, I’m feeling a bit peckish.” He moved past them and went to the kitchen.
“And, you?”
Gabriel bit her lip, placed her hands on her hips, and took a deep breath. “Not really.”
“What was that all about?”
“He’s losing it…again. I don’t know what to do.”
“Yes, you do,” Will said, sitting up, light-headed and groggy.
Wendy’s mouth fell open. “How are you awake?”
Gabriel sighed. “He’s special.”
“Lucifer should have left me where I was.” He sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed his temple.
“Shut your hole.”
“You know I’m right.” His shoulders slumped, the rage gone from his now somber face.
“Boy,”
“You know what I’ll do. It’ll be Lucifer, then you, then whoever walks through that door next. Dad. Michelle. You see what I am. You have to kill me.”
“What the hell?” Wendy snapped.
“I’ll get in the tub myself. All you have to do is hold me under if I try to fight it.” He got up, looking his aunt in the eye, tears starting to form in his. “I can’t control what’s going on in my head. You have to stop me before I do something that can’t be undone.”
Gabriel took a shaky breath, fighting back tears of her own as she wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tight and smoothing the back of his hair.
“Tell them I’m sorry.”
She nodded.
“Look out for Dad.”
“Of course.”
“Damn,” Wendy blurted. “It is not that deep.”
They turned to look at her, still lurking in the doorway. Gabriel wiped the tears from her cheeks. “You don’t understand.”
“No, I get it. Can’t control his powers, they’re making him crazy. He’s dangerous, blah, blah. It’s nothing a little self-control spell can’t fix.”
Their mouths hung open. He stepped closer to her, studying her face for signs of deception. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah. Give me like, forty-five minutes to gather up the ingredients. Try not to kill anyone in the meantime.” She hurried to the front door and left the apartment leaving the two awestruck and staring at each other in disbelief.
“Can she really do that?” Will wondered. “Can she fix me?”
“I don’t know. I guess we’ll find out.”
“All right.” She sat on the floor of Gabriel’s living room and took the supplies from her bag. She spread out a six-by-six green cloth and spilled a handful of garden soil in the center. Next, she placed a lace agate in the dirt followed by a nugget of frankincense. Then, she sprinkled a pinch of motherwort and took a sip of water, not wanting her throat to go dry as she recited the incantation.
“Are you sure this’ll work?” Gabriel asked.
“Leave her alone,” Lucifer lectured from the sofa. “Tituban witches have been pulling off miracles for centuries. No reason to doubt this one now.”
“Don’t worry,” Wendy smiled. “I got this.” She rubbed her hands together and began the spell. “Earth within and Earth below, teach him what he needs to know. Not so quick to flare or flow, but like stone both strong and slow." She bundled up the cloth around the other ingredients and tied it with a black thread before tossing it to Will who sat mesmerized across from her. “Go put that under your bed and never move it. When you wake up tomorrow, you’ll be all better.”
“That’s it?”
“Yep.”
He got up and went to his room, shoving the parcel under his bed against the wall directly underneath the middle of the headboard.
“That’s really all it takes?” Gabriel asked.
“Yeah.”
“Well, damn, no wonder you’re the witch community’s on-call fixer.”
She giggled, getting up and heading to the kitchen to wash her hands.
“Did you see that shit?”
“Mm-hmm,” Lucifer acknowledged, not looking up from his book.
“You think it’ll work?”
“I assume so.”
“Why aren’t you more excited?”
“I’m ecstatic. Thrilled beyond words. Jumping out of my skin.”
“Dude,”
He rolled his eyes and put his book down. “I’m very happy that our previously savage nephew will soon be in complete control of his faculties. I’m just also tired and still slightly aggravated by his latest outburst.”
She gasped, clutching her hand to her stomach.
“What is it?”
“Barachiel,” she whispered, not wanting Will to hear. “He’s in trouble.”
Chapter 20
Wyatt was awoken by the sound of his
front door being kicked open. He flew out of bed, already gathering energy as he went to the living room to see who’d broken in. Before him stood a dozen male vampires, fangs exposed in twisted grins as they eyed him like steak, licking their lips, nearly panting at the sight of him. One stepped forward, drool leaking to his chin. “You do look tasty. I guess that’s what she sees in you.”
“What do you want?”
“Dinner.”
He looked over the group, taking note of their positions in the room.
“You’re the one the bitch Queen chose over us. We were forsaken for you, a human.”
“Not just human,” he corrected, forming a ball of electricity and eyeing the lumbering brute. “I was going to give you a chance to change your mind, but then you had to go and be disrespectful. No one calls my girl a bitch.” He threw a bolt of lightning into the vampire’s chest, sending him flying into the wall on the other side of the room.
“You do not scare us with your parlor tricks, Lightning Bearer,” one of them hissed. “You may be strong, but we are many.” They attacked, surrounding him in a sea of fangs and maniacal laughter. He fought them off, using all the energy he could handle to throw bolts and balls of lightning in all directions. The air sizzled and snapped, every hair on his body standing on end.
Yo, B, what’s wrong? He heard Gabriel ask.
Angry vampire hoard.
I got you. Hold up your hand like you want to answer a question in class.
He did, using his free hand to punch a vampire in the nose, breaking the bone and knocking him out cold. He turned to the sound of a window breaking and was puzzled by the sight of a wooden mallet flying toward him. He caught it and on instinct whipped it back, driving a hole through the forehead of a vampire trying to sneak up behind him. He spun around, facing the raging beasts as they came for him. He lunged at them, one after another, bashing heads in, cloaked in a field of electricity. Every vampire that got close was sent reeling, falling to the floor in a seizing heap. He crushed their skulls with the hammer, taking out his pent up aggression on his attackers, leaving none standing.
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