Barton stepped back a pace, and Jack surged forward, his shoulder slamming into Raphael’s chest. They tumbled backwards and landed on the road, where Raphael flipped their positions, pinning Jack to the asphalt. He joined both of his fists together like a club and raised them, though he never got a chance to strike, as Gabriel grabbed him by two of his wings and hauled him back and away, letting Jack scramble back to his feet as Raphael tried to squirm free.
Raphael took to the air for only a moment, knowing it was an ultimately pointless endeavor. Rather than trying to get distance, he instead swooped towards Jack. Jack began to backpedal, but he would never be faster than an archangel, and he knew that. He braced himself as a hand wrapped around his throat and wrenched him off of the ground.
Raphael scrutinized him for half a second before shaking him like a ragdoll and tossing him aside. Jack shouted in surprise as he very briefly soared through the air before he landed roughly once again.
Siobhan ignored it all to the best of her abilities. As it turned out, she was very good at tuning things out.
The signal was so loud, for once Siobhan wasn’t sure she would be able to beat it. The car behind her shifted as Jack slammed into it, and she cringed and redoubled her efforts. She couldn’t think like that. She had to win. She could wrangle the signal into silence no matter how much it felt like her skull was going to implode.
She couldn’t stop, though. She couldn’t just give up. She hadn’t before. She hadn’t made a habit of it in the past. She wasn’t going to start now.
(Admittedly, she wasn’t entirely sure if it was because she sincerely wanted to succeed or because, if this was the time she failed, it would look an awful lot like spite. Maybe it could be both.)
With a deep breath, she wrapped all of her focus around the signal, as if she was throwing a blanket over it. And then, throwing all of her mental weight against it, she did her best to smother it.
With a gasp, the signal fell silent, though it felt like it was buzzing beneath her skin. Siobhan opened her mouth to let the others know, but she didn’t get a chance before Raphael cried, “Wait!”
He held his hands up in a pacifying motion, backing away. Gabriel came to a halt, his wings partially spread but motionless, calm but ready to move. He took a deep breath and offered in a low voice, “If I turn you into a vampire, he won’t be able to control you.”
Raphael seemed conflicted at the offer, staring like a deer caught in a pair of headlights. He jerked back to himself as Gabriel added sharply, “But you must decide quickly.”
Raphael nodded, just a brief jerk of motion. “Alright,” he agreed, his voice quiet, and he stepped closer to Gabriel, though not without a certain amount of wariness.
Gabriel closed the last of the distance between them, placed a hand on Raphael’s chin to turn his head to the side, and bit into his shoulder. Raphael hissed and his wings twitched, though Gabriel paid him no mind, instead moving on to bite into his own wrist. He dripped his blood over the wound, and as soon as the first few drops landed, Gabriel released him and backed up several paces.
“Very shortly, you’re going to get very uncomfortable and pass out,” he explained to the confused look on Raphael’s face. “Before that happens, though, the signal is most likely going to come back, and you’ll start fighting like a feral weasel.”
As if on cue, Siobhan whined and the signal battered its way through her control and rattled back to full strength. Raphael stiffened, shook his head slightly, and then launched himself at Jack, who narrowly ducked out of the way before he could be slammed into the car again. Grabbing hold of one of Raphael’s wings as it passed, he twisted to the side and heaved with all of his weight, tossing Raphael aside. He tumbled over the road for a moment before he scrambled back to his feet, his wings flaring open behind him.
Barton bounded over, snapping at one wing, only for it to glide out of his mouth as his teeth closed on nothing but a pair of primary feathers. Unperturbed, he snapped at the back of one of Raphael’s legs, keeping him distracted until Jack tackled him to the ground again.
Jack pinned him to the asphalt, knees on Raphael’s elbows and hands forcing one pair of wings flat to the ground. Raphael struggled and thrashed with growing urgency until, abruptly, his eyes rolled back and he went limp.
Jack stayed right where he was for a moment, just to make sure the archangel wasn’t playing possum, before he rolled aside to instead sit on the asphalt. “We’ll go find somewhere to sit,” he offered as Gabriel picked Raphael up.
With a final nod, Gabriel vanished.
Jack reluctantly heaved himself back to his feet and made his way over to the car as Siobhan was poking her head out from behind it.
“That was the last of Gabriel’s siblings, right?” he wondered, though he was pretty sure he knew the answer. Double-checking never hurt anyone.
Siobhan nodded once. “That’s all of them,” she confirmed, folding her arms on the hood of the car and resting her chin on them as Jack hoisted himself up to sit on it.
“Think that means we’re almost done with all of this?” he asked, tipping his head to the side to look down at her.
“Hopefully,” she sighed. “Gabriel did say his family was the most combat capable. So the Metatron would be downgrading no matter what he decides to do next. But I’m pretty sure the Lords are almost finished with whatever they’ve been doing, so hopefully that means this will all be cleaned up soon.”
“Yeah, I’m getting a little tired of seeing my face on the news,” Jack added wryly.
“At least no one knows who we are,” Siobhan pointed out wryly. “And hey, what’s wrong with getting fifteen minutes of fame?”
“Because I have basically no good side when I’m taking a wing straight to the face.” There was a beat, and he added, “Granted, all of the conspiracy theories are pretty funny.”
Siobhan snorted. “I know, right? If I see one more person talk about how the Rapture is finally happening, I’m not going to be able to contain myself. My laughter will be loud and mean.”
Jack patted her shoulder sympathetically. “It’s okay, I’ll be right there with you.”
It was a silly joke, but the smile it brought to Siobhan’s face was probably unwontedly soft. She didn’t think Jack noticed, or if he did, he didn’t comment on it.
*
Though it might have surprised some of the others in the manor to know it, Allambee used to meditate quite a lot. It was a good way to refocus his thoughts on what needed to be done and to realize what unnecessary things he was focusing on too much, to the detriment of other things.
He wasn’t as fussy as most of the others. He didn’t need to be utterly at peace for it. Tune out the rest of the world long enough, and peace would come on its own. So he simply sat down on the bed in his suite on the charmingly dubbed Lords’ Floor. He stretched his arms over his head, picked up the dented shield from where it was propped up against the bedside table, and laid back on the mattress.
His eyes closed slowly, and he let his thoughts wander, letting them drift naturally as he felt the cool silver of the shield beneath his fingers. The Scale had been a valuable asset, and it had been as reliable as they came. And honestly, there was very little more satisfying that watching a seraph bounce off of it as if they were being launched out of a cannon.
He had been fond of it, for all that it had been his for only a very short time. Though he wondered if he could even consider it his, if he truly had so little control over it. But then, who did it belong to? Him? The trial keeper? The Metatron? He suspected the actual answer was somewhere in the middle.
He could feel firm, cool crystal beneath him, and if he concentrated, he could hear it ripple and crack as the massive serpent emerged from it. With a sound like stones rubbing together, it circled around him, armor-like scales dragging over the crystal until, at last, it came to a halt. A tongue brushed Allambee’s face, and he knew the snake had reared up to lean over him. A moment later, it shifted, re
sting its head against the Scale of Eden, as if it were a pillow. Its head was surprisingly heavy, considering Allambee’s strength even without the shield’s power.
“I know why you’ve come here,” it informed him blandly, and its weight shifted as its coils moved. Its tongue brushed Allambee’s chin with an almost curious air.
“You don’t sound happy to see me,” Allambee observed dryly. Granted, it was still going better than the last time they met, to say the least.
“Perhaps not,” it agreed quietly, “though not because of you. Merely because of the reason you’re here.”
“The shield really means that much to you?” Allambee wondered, because he knew the answer was yes, but not quite why. The others hadn’t really bothered to ask, as far as he was aware.
The serpent hissed out a quiet laugh. “Is that so strange?” it wondered mildly. “It is my purpose for existing. I consider it mine, for it is all that I have. To see it reduced to so much mortal metal?” It tutted disapprovingly. “It breaks my heart.”
Allambee supposed he could see where it was coming from, though it was a mindset he personally hoped he would never be able to fully understand. He didn’t want to find himself in that position. “So if you know why I’m here, you probably already have a rough idea of what I’m going to say,” he reasoned.
“A rough idea,” the serpent agreed quietly. “Are you going to spin me a sob story to go along with it? I’m sure you could, if you really wished to.”
“Don’t really see much of a point to it,” Allambee replied, shrugging as best as he could from his current position. “You’re more likely to care about what’s already happened and what’s been done to you than you are to care about my personal plight. And from the sounds of it, you’re already mighty unhappy with the Metatron.”
“An astute observation,” it returned dryly. “Your observational skills surely know no limits.”
Without thinking, Allambee lifted a hand and blindly flicked the snake’s nose. Its head lifted away from the shield and Allambee’s chest, and the silence after that seemed distinctly stunned.
“Are you going to help or not?” Allambee asked, not giving it a chance to gather its bearings again. “You know why I’m here; I’m not going to spin you a sob story that won’t have any purpose. You know what I’m asking about. I just need an answer.”
It sighed out a slow, hissing breath, and once again, lowered its head to the shield once more. “I will help,” it agreed. “The Scale of Eden cannot be restored if the Metatron is gone—none of the Pieces of Eden can be—but I will consider it worthy recompense.”
Allambee wasn’t going to argue with that logic. “I’m glad to hear it. And you’ll—”
“Yes, I will help you get the Metatron out of Heaven for a short while,” it interrupted. “When the time comes, my aid will be there. Now, if I’m not mistaken, that makes five out of five, does it not?”
“That it does,” he agreed, and his thoughts drifted to the other Vampire Lords for a moment.
Just like that, all he felt on his chest was the minimal weight of the shield, and all he felt beneath him was the fabric of the bedspread and the mattress beneath it.
For a few moments, he didn’t move. He didn’t even bother to open his eyes. He just stayed right where he was and let his thoughts wander.
That was five out of five trial keepers, and the Metatron was out of worthy archangels. They were going to have to confront him soon, before he pulled out yet another drastic measure. It was not a particularly cheering thought, but on the other hand, Allambee couldn’t say he wouldn’t be glad for the entire debacle with the angels to be done and over with.
That was a thought for another time, though. Trying to plan out what he would do after the mess was over with before cleanup had even begun sounded like a sure fire way to jinx everything, and if they failed, it certainly wasn’t going to be because of him.
Finally, his eyes opened and he sat up. He looked down at the shield, its silver bright and gleaming, despite the massive dent that had been left in it. He traced the tips of his fingers over the dent before he slowly set the shield aside, leaning it against the bedside table once again.
With another stretch, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and got up. He needed to tell the other Lords that he had succeeded in gaining his trial keeper’s favor (well, in a manner of speaking, but he would take what he could get), and they all needed to decide on what the next move would be and when they would make it.
It was going to be a long conversation.
*
Siobhan’s head hurt. It was nothing new. It was nothing out of the ordinary by then. She had sort of adjusted to it. She had adapted. Her head hurt, but she could still grin and laugh and kiss Jack and climb on Gabriel’s shoulder like he was a bizarrely tolerant jungle gym. Her head was killing her, but she could pretend she was fine. She had to, honestly. She couldn’t let the others worry more than they already were.
It was Anael who kept giving her meaningful looks, like she knew something but felt no need to actually say what it was she knew. Siobhan mustered up a beaming grin for her and very deliberately didn’t mention it, and Anael never brought it up.
She supposed the angels had a decent understanding of privacy, at least. She didn’t need to worry about Anael mentioning it to any of the others, though she wasn’t sure if that was out of respect for what Siobhan wanted or because Anael simply didn’t care. She could read Gabriel well enough, but Anael and Samael were still enigmas more often than not.
Ah, well. She would learn how to understand them eventually, once her head stopped hurting and Anael stopped giving her that look. Because, really, that look was not productive, and it was mostly just making Siobhan tense.
Maybe Anael thought it was a game.
“Why are you doing it?” Anael’s voice seemed to come from out of nowhere, and Siobhan nearly jumped out of her skin.
“Doing what?” she asked, turning to face her. The yard was quiet other than the two of them.
“Helping with this.” Anael gestured loosely to her head, presumably to indicate the signal. “It’s hurting you, and you don’t know us,” she pointed out. “So why are you helping?”
Siobhan shrugged stiffly. “It seems like the right thing to do,” she replied. “If I don’t, then killing the angels being controlled is the only option. At least this way, there’s another option. Less people dead is good, right?”
Anael nodded slowly in understanding. “Even at your own expense, though?” she wondered quietly.
“That’s a temporary thing,” Siobhan argued. “Eventually, the Metatron will be gone, this will be done with, and I’ll be fine. Temporary discomfort seems like a really silly thing to complain about, considering that.” She cocked her head to one side. “Why do you care, anyway? You barely even know me.”
“No, I don’t,” Anael acknowledged easily. “But you still helped me. You’ve helped my family. Even parts of my family that have wronged you and yours. That gives me reason to care, does it not?”
“I guess,” Siobhan acknowledged slowly. “You’re welcome, then.”
Anael huffed out a quiet laugh. “Thank you. And do try to take care of yourself.” With that final pearl of advice, she was gone as quickly as she had arrived.
*
Siobhan learned that Raphael had woken up when she looked out the window and saw him and Gabriel clashing through the sky above the manor. Neither of them seemed to be in any great distress, and they weren’t getting anywhere near the actual manor or anything they might accidentally destroy, so she was willing enough to believe that they were just having a… friendly-ish sparring session, but even so, she felt herself drawn to the balcony to watch them, as if there might actually be anything she could do if they started getting a bit too rough or if they forgot where they were for a moment.
Jack, Anael, and Samael were already there, staring skywards with interest.
“No one invited me?” Siobh
an pouted, folding her arms over her chest. “Rude. That’s rude.”
Jack wound an arm around her waist and reeled her in to kiss the side of her head in a slightly distracted manner.
“We didn’t actually know they were planning on this,” he replied, looking skywards once again. “I don’t think any of us even planned on watching. We just sort of… drifted out here, one by one.”
“Any idea what they’re up to?” Siobhan asked, sighing out a breath. “I mean, it doesn’t look like they’re planning on trying to murder each other,” and Gabriel still seemed fairly calm when she prodded at the bond with him, “but I’m not exactly an expert.”
“I think they are just settling an old score,” Anael replied, and her wings tensed and partially spread as Gabriel threw Raphael like a softball. Raphael tumbled end over end through the air before he righted himself once again, his wings flaring out behind him before he launched himself at Gabriel once again.
The Vampire's Bond 3 (The Bonded Series) Page 13
