The Daughter of Zion

by Elicia Hyder

  The Morning Star moved so quickly no one could react fast enough. He swiped a handful of debris off the hood of the car and flung it in Cruz’s face. Then he threw one arm over the barrel of the gun and drove his free arm down between Cruz’s hands. The Morning Star twisted and used his body weight to drive them both to the ground.

  He’d learned that move from Azrael.

  Cruz collapsed on top of him, trying to wrestle the gun back out of Michael’s hands. It went off. Cruz’s head flew backward with a bloody spray of bone and brains.

  The only thing between my family and that weapon was me.

  Spinning toward them, my arms and wings spread wide, shielding them from the bullet spray that followed. I felt each round as it tore through my skin.

  One…

  Four…

  Nine…

  Twelve 5.56 Yahweh rounds disintegrated inside me.

  Everything went black.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Knock.

  Knock.

  Knock-knock.

  Knock…

  On the other side of the thin drywall I heard my little sister, Alice, giggle. After all these lifetimes, it was still one of the sweetest sounds on any planet.

  When the giggles stopped, she answered.

  Knock! Knock!

  I blinked, and when I reopened my eyes, the scene had changed.

  Fury was messing with a button on the front of my shirt. I felt dizzy. Maybe it was the internal blood loss. Maybe it was the Vicodin. Maybe it was the clean-shot view I had straight down her cleavage.

  She stretched up on her toes and touched her lips to mine. I pulled back, certain I was high. Certain I might regret this when I was sober.

  But my eyes fell to her mouth as she trapped the side of her lower lip between her teeth.

  “Fuck it,” I said, stepping into her before my better judgment could talk me out of it. I grabbed her waist and pulled her hips against mine, bending until tears sprang to my eyes and my mouth crashed down on hers.

  Everything in me twisted in agony.

  And in pleasure.

  I slid my arm around her back to pull her up and tighter against me. And when I did, a broken rib shifted enough to make me cry out in pain.

  I laughed as she cupped my face in her hands.

  Then I blinked, and the scene changed again.

  2:23 a.m.

  I should have been in bed, but sleep—especially alone—was so overrated. I scrolled down the job postings for positions abroad. I flagged all the ones in active war zones, since that was the only place my life seemed to make sense.

  A flash of red in the corner of the screen caught my eye.

  New message. User Fury_308.

  My chest tightened, and I hated myself for it. I clicked on the flashing message anyway.

  New post. 2:24 a.m.

  A single link to a news station.

  Unable to help myself, I clicked on it.

  A news spotlight filled my screen. “Breaking news in Buncombe County. A little girl is home safe with her family tonight after surviving a nightmare…”

  The video cut to side-by-side photos of a man and a beautiful young woman—a beautiful young woman that wasn’t Fury.

  She had long dark hair.

  Chocolate-brown eyes.

  And absolutely no soul.

  My lungs forgot to inhale.

  She wore a black hoodie with the name N. McNamara printed on the front left side.

  For the first time in my entire life, nothing and everything made sense…

  I blinked.

  “Warren, I’m pregnant.”

  Every drop of blood inside my body pooled in my feet. The starry courtyard started to spin.

  “Warren?”

  I worried I might faint. Or vomit. Or both. “You’re pregnant?”

  Sloan nodded.

  “Pregnant?”

  Sloan was fidgeting. She jerked her thumb toward the restaurant. “I didn’t want to tell you inside with everyone.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “She’s due in July.”

  “She?” My voice didn’t even sound like my own.

  Sloan took a step closer to me. “Your father says it’s a girl.”

  Her words punched me in the gut. “My father?”

  Sloan’s hands clamped over her mouth. Then she guided me over to a brick bench.

  While I sat raking my fingers through my hair, she paced in front of me, wringing her hands. She was jabbering on about something, but I couldn’t make any sense out of her words.

  I finally held up a finger to stop her. “Are you really pregnant?”

  “Yes. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. Please don’t be mad.”

  Mad?

  The fog lifted from my brain. I jumped up and grabbed her cold hands, pulling them to my chest. “Sloan, I could never be mad about that.” Tears burned my eyes. “I’m going to be a dad.”

  I blinked again.

  Knock.

  Knock.

  Knock-knock.

  Knock…

  I waited, rocking back and forth on my heels in the warmth of the two Eden suns.

  The door slowly opened.

  Alice’s hair was bubblegum pink. Her jaw dropped when she saw me, and she laughed. “Warren?” She ran outside and threw her arms around me.

  I was finally home.

  I blinked.

  You shouldn’t do this. I stared at the Jordans’ house. I glanced back to make sure Azrael was OK. He was passed out cold on the front lawn, smoke rising from the burns on his wrist, and his open mouth collecting rainwater.

  His heart was beating strong.

  Meh. He’s fine.

  I looked at the house again.

  You’re not supposed to be here, my better sense told me.

  But they’re right there, I argued back.

  My daughter was in that house.

  Sloan was in that house.

  Just a peek. I’ll stay across the spirit line. No one will even know I’m there…

  I slipped into the house unseen. Sloan and Nathan were on the sofa—ugh—talking in hushed voices I didn’t dare listen in on. Because electronics can be problematic for spirits, as I passed by the baby monitor, I sent a wave of energy across it to power it off.

  Then I crossed into the nursery.

  “Appa?” None of the other syllables that followed made a damn bit of sense, but the word for Father in Katavukai was beautiful music to my dead ears.

  I crept closer to the crib and saw Iliana kicking her feet as she lay on her back. She rolled onto her side and giggled when our eyes met.

  OK, Alice’s giggle was second best on any planet.

  “Iliana?” I whispered.

  “Appa,” she said again.

  I smiled.

  “Appa.” Someone was shaking me. “Appa, wake up!”

  When I opened my eyes, Iliana was in my face.

  A grown Iliana.

  All my senses rushed back. Everything was so bright. And cold. And loud.

  Holy shit, the noise.

  Shouting.

  Sirens.

  Rotors.

  A WKNC News helicopter was circling overhead.

  My insides twisted and churned. I pulled my knees up to my chest and rolled onto my side, nearly blacking out again from the pain. The agony of healing rivaled that of getting shot.

  I vomited blood all over the concrete.

  Iliana’s warm hands buzzed on my back, and the burning inside me eased. I focused on breathing in and out, and blood and fluid gurgled in my lungs. Finally, I rolled onto my back again, draping my forearm across my eyes. “I’m not dead?” I croaked out.

  Iliana kissed my forehead. “No, you’re not dead, thank the Father.”

  I peeked out from under my arm with one eye to look at her. “Were you hit?”

  She shook her head. “I’m fine.”

  My lips were dry, and when I licked them, I tasted blood. “You used crystal wa
ter on me? I said I didn’t want—”

  Iliana patted her empty pockets. “I don’t even have the crystal water.”

  “Then what the hell happened?”

  Fury looked down at me. Tears had streamed through the dirt on her face. “Guess who’s immune to hydrogen necroxide?” She leaned closer. “Angels who don’t have golden blood.”

  Holy shit.

  “I’m not Rh-null,” I said, more to myself than anyone else.

  I wasn’t sure why the thought hadn’t crossed my mind before. I’d been O negative when I was alive. No one had ever told me my blood type would change in the ever after.

  I’d just assumed.

  Gabriel offered a hand to help me sit up. When I did, something trickled down my chest and back. Metal slivers, fragments of the bullets that had struck me, fell from beneath my shirt. A few more were still slicing their way back out of my skin as my body repaired itself.

  My father was out cold next to me. And the Morning Star was cuffed, chained, and gagged in the back of a Humvee. Reuel, Rogan, and Jett were all standing guard. Through the glass, I could see the Morning Star bleeding from his mouth and nose.

  Profusely.

  Apparently, the high-Z cuffs also limited his self-healing power.

  Good.

  The breeze hit the skin of my back in patches. I lifted my T-shirt’s shoulder to inspect it. The back of the shirt was shredded. The front was not.

  “None of the rounds that hit you exited.” Fury ran her hand down the front of my torso. “You lost a lot of blood, but no one else was shot.”

  “You saved me.” As Iliana stood, she pressed a kiss to my forehead.

  “Then Fury bitch-slapped the Prince of Darkness with the butt of her rifle.” Ionis was sitting on the hood of the SUV with his legs crossed. “It was epic.”

  “I’d better go help Dad,” Iliana said, starting up the street.

  Nathan was talking to the local police. “I guess this will be a legal nightmare to sort out.” In our immediate vicinity, I counted over forty patrol officers, most of them in riot gear. The Claymore operators who remained were all in handcuffs.

  Something felt off, but I couldn’t put my finger on what it was.

  “I heard they’re sending in the big dogs from Washington,” Fury said.

  I was staring at the men in handcuffs. “How many soldiers would you say were here?”

  Fury shrugged. “Maybe a thousand.”

  “Did you see any demons?”

  She shook her head. “What are you thinking?”

  “That this isn’t over.” I pushed myself up off the ground.

  Nathan’s conversation was escalating to an argument. The police wanted the Morning Star.

  I launched into the air and closed the half a block between us with one powerful thrust of my wings. Terrified, the cops drew their weapons as I landed hard between Nathan and Iliana. “You won’t touch him,” I announced, lowering my wings.

  All their guns were pointed at me. The man in front, who was obviously in charge, gestured to Nathan. “He tells me Michael Claymore is responsible for what happened here today.”

  “And I’m telling you, you’re not going to touch him. You and your men aren’t capable of handling this.” I took a step toward one of the officers, pressing my chest against the muzzle of his handgun. “Shoot me if you want, and I’ll show you exactly how ill-equipped you are.”

  A ripple of energy floated between me and the group of cops. Then, reluctantly, the leader raised his hand, and his men lowered their weapons.

  Iliana wiggled her fingers with a smile when I turned around. “There’s no need for you to get shot again.” She registered the worry on my face. “What’s wrong?”

  “We need to get out of the city. Only about half of Legion Nine was here, and none of the demons we fought last time showed up.”

  “Demons?” the cop asked.

  We all ignored him.

  “What do you want to do?” Nathan asked.

  “We need to get back to Echo-5. Put some distance between us and civilians. How are the roads?”

  “Unless a miracle has happened, most of them are still shut down. I had to ditch the Claymore car a few blocks away.”

  “What about the helicopter?”

  “Grounded.” He pointed at the cop.

  I looked at the officer. “If you and your men want to be helpful, get all these humans off the streets and get our helicopter back in the air.”

  The man obviously didn’t know what to think. It was completely against his training to let us leave, but you could see everything in him wanted us out of his city. I wasn’t sure what the death toll of civilians had been thus far, but if I was right, that number was likely to climb.

  I knew it.

  He knew it too.

  His eyes issued me a stern warning. “This isn’t over.”

  “I’ll give you an address to come find me.”

  Turning away, he clicked the radio on his shoulder. “One oh seven to EOC requesting all available units to begin moving civilians off the streets. And go ahead and release that Claymore helicopter…”

  Iliana grabbed Nathan’s sleeve. “Mom.”

  “What?” I asked.

  Nathan pulled his hands back through his hair. “We radioed back to Echo-5 and told them the coast was clear. They were going to head this way.”

  I swore. “How did you call them?”

  “Gabriel told Cassiel,” he said.

  “Gabriel!” I shouted.

  He looked over.

  “Call Cassiel back and tell her to get everyone at Echo-5 back inside the—”

  Kaboom!

  We whirled around, but the skyscrapers blocked our view in the direction of the explosion. The fighter jet I’d missed earlier roared past overhead, shaking the buildings.

  I didn’t need to see what it hit; the fear squeezing my heart told me.

  Echo-5.

  “Reuel, bring the Morning Star!” I screamed, and then I bolted into the air.

  The Angels of Death descended with me over what was left of Echo-5. Iliana and Jett were right behind us.

  Steel beams twisted up through the rubble toward the sky. A fire was burning somewhere beneath the partially collapsed floors. Everything from the front door to the back wall on the right side was completely gone.

  The control room.

  The office.

  The entrance to the bunker.

  The rest was barely standing.

  My eyes searched the parking lot. The transport van was there. So were the cars I recognized.

  Sloan, Adrianne, everyone else…

  They were all still here, and dead bodies were everywhere, pulling at my attention like gravity.

  Gabriel hovered beside me. “I can’t make contact with Cassiel.” He swallowed. “Or anyone.”

  Movement in the mountains drew my eyes. Camouflaged soldiers in gas masks—the rest of Legion Nine, I assumed—were coming through the woods like an army of ants.

  I turned to the angels behind me. “Don’t let them on this property!” I dove toward the building and landed beside what used to be the communal living room. I sent out my gift into the wreckage, searching for the living and the dead.

  I climbed over the remains of a wall onto a pile of concrete chunks and drywall. Half of the second floor hung like a canopy over what was once a kitchen.

  Someone was gasping.

  An angel was pinned beneath part of the fallen wall. All I could see were legs. When I reached him and pushed off the broken sheet of high-Z metal, I saw the iron beam running through his midsection.

  It was Egris, one of my angels who’d stayed behind. The iron wouldn’t kill him, but it wouldn’t heal quickly. Iliana and Jett landed on top of what looked like a gun safe. “Help me get him out of here!” I called.

  They flew across the room as something rumbled over my head. The remnants of the second floor crashed down on top of me. I shielded my head, but Egris and I were bu
ried under the fragments of flooring and demolished furniture.

  With adrenaline pumping through my veins and a guttural scream, I hurled the rubble off me.

  Iliana and Jett started moving the rocks off Egris.

  I heard more shifting. I looked up, but nothing major seemed to be collapsing. Searching the demolished ground floor, I realized the sound was coming from a massive pile with a mangled gym locker jutting out of it. The locker was wiggling just enough for me to notice.

  “You got this?” I asked Jett.

  He pulled a long piece of wood off Egris’s face. “Got it!”

  I sailed across the room and pushed the locker out of the pile. I plunged my hands in and began to dig, tossing pieces of steel and stone over my shoulder. I yanked out a computer monitor and threw it onto the lawn.

  A small hand covered in blood and dust pushed through the hole it left behind.

  Cassiel.

  I grabbed her arm and pulled her out. She coughed, spewing chunks of dirt and gravel from her lungs as I held her upright.

  “Where’s Sloan?” I asked.

  She coughed again and covered her mouth. Her head shook violently. “I don’t know!”

  Gabriel ran inside, and I passed her to him. He lifted her in his arms and carried her out of the building as I searched through more mounds of debris.

  I found a piece of the metal armory cage that had been on the second floor, near the staff quarters. Beneath it, fresh death called to me. I shoveled through the rocks and metal with my hands until my fingers found another body.

  I grabbed a fistful of their shirt and pulled them out. It was a Claymore uniform. The dead man was wearing handcuffs. His startled soul stared up at me, reluctant to leave his body behind.

  Guns fired outside.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw one of my angels get hit and fall. “Iliana!” I yelled.

  They had finally dug out Egris and were pulling him off the iron spike. I reached in my pocket and pulled out the crystal water.

  “Go. I’ve got him,” Jett said to her.

  She flew over and reached for the vial. I held it just out of her grasp. “Don’t get hit,” I said seriously.

  “I won’t.” She extended her hand toward the battlefield, and the angel’s limp body rose into the air.