I swallowed hard, looking away—remembering the draw of that horn. “No one controls me.”
“And so you have proven,” he said. “Twice you’ve raised your sword in opposition to God, weakening the compulsion imbued in Michael’s sword. As my child you are stronger than the others, Emma Jane, and my gift to you has made certain your angelic power flows untethered through your veins. You can fight Michael’s command. Join me and together we will dismantle the ruling seraphim Council and prove to our Father that the angels are more deserving than the sons of man to people the earth with our seed.”
My mind balked at the blunt statement. This had nothing to do with love. This was genocide in the extreme—mixing angelic DNA with human until there were no pure humans left. The result would be a world of nephilim, of supernatural people ruling the weaker, slower, humans until the species blinked out of existence. Would God allow it? Worse, what would He do to stop it?
For an instant I imagined the hand of God reaching down to wipe the earth clean, and I shuddered at the thought. I couldn’t let it come to that. I wouldn’t help destroy humanity.
“Sorry, Dad, it’s never gonna happen.” My hand tightened on the hilt of my sword, my decision made. But before making my move, another’s blade blurred past my eyes and sliced through the bull-demon’s thick neck.
The big demon’s head and neck toppled off its wide shoulders, and I tucked my feet close to avoid the gush of black goo as his body melted into an indistinguishable blob. I looked up at the caramel-skinned girl proudly holding her illorum sword.
“Nenita.”
Her smile widened. “What’s up, girlfriend?”
She still looked like the little kid I remembered cowering in a hospital bed. But there was a wisdom in her eyes now, a confidence. This time it wasn’t her blood spattered all over her snug-fitting tank top; it was demon blood and she’d put it there.
Nenita glanced past me, her expression sobering, then looked back to me. “Saw you shootin’ the breeze over here with Mr. Tall Dark and Fugly. Thought you could use a hand.”
A quick huff of laughter blew out of me and I smiled. “Yeah. Thanks. It’s good to see you. You look…different…but good. You’re okay then?”
Her smile wilted more, but she nodded, offering me a hand to help me up. “I’m cool. I ain’t gonna lie though. This is some freaky, scary shit goin’ down. But thanks to my new magister I can handle it.”
I took her hand and got my feet under me, wincing against the pain of my gashes and the sting of brimstone boiling under my skin. “Keep your sword up,” I said and the girl nodded again, her dark braids swinging on either side of her head.
“Back at’cha,” she said, then vanished.
Somewhere in the distance I thought I heard Jukar scream my name, or maybe it was the wind and the howl of battle raging around me. I couldn’t waste time thinking about it. Now that I knew his plan, I had to stop it.
The world blurred by and a blade sailed across my path. I ducked under the swing, spinning back to slice my blade from hip to shoulder through the chest of the demon who’d tried to stop me. A heartbeat later the gibborim guards stood before me—a wall of thick bodies and razor-sharp swords, with Bariel and the horn-blowing demon behind them.
“Four against one?” I said to the linebackers. “Any chance you’d go one at a time?”
The Mensa rejects glanced back and forth among one another, considering my request. I capitalized on their distraction, spinning quickly and using my momentum to swing my sword through the first guy’s neck. The other three spared a moment to puzzle out what had happened, and then snapped into action.
I sidestepped the en-masse advance, blocking the swing of the nearest gibborim, ducking the swing of another. They surrounded me before I could recover, but a blink later, Dan and Ham stood with me—our backs together.
“Thought you said you were gonna get that horn,” Dan said.
“I was just about to, but these guys asked me to kill them first.”
“Hey, teach,” Nenita said blinking in next to Ham. “I was wondering where you went.”
“Nenita, this is Daniel and Emma Jane,” Ham said. “Daniel and Emma Jane, meet another of my illorums, Nenita.”
“Nenita?” Dan blinked at the girl, and I could see the recognition flicker through his eyes.
“’Sup, Officer, Dan?” She flashed a wide grin, then looked at me. “We got this, Emma. Go.”
“Really? Thanks.” There was no time to argue. I winked at the refrigerator-sized gibborim targeting me, and then moved faster than any illorum he’d ever met.
Whatever Jukar had done to me with that kiss on the back of my head, I could feel it kicking in full force—doubling my speed and strength. Before the gibborim’s brain had time to understand I was gone, I was already facing the giant devil demon next to Bariel.
His bull head tilted down toward me. “You believe you possess the strength to best me, little woman?” he asked in the same gravely smoker’s voice they all seemed to have.
“Dude, I just want you to stop blowing that friggin’ horn.”
“I am the trumpeter. As long as there is life in my body and breath in my lungs, nothing shall sway me from my duty,” he said.
“Oh. Okay. I can work with that.” I spun like I had so many times before, building momentum, my sword slicing through the air. But the demon was fast, and smart. His big hand snapped up, catching my wrist, stopping me like a finger on a spinning penny, holding me dangling by one arm. “Shit.”
He’d dropped the horn so it hung loose on a rope across his chest and balled his massive fist. Like a boxer to a punching bag, he wound up and thumped me hard in the ribs, aiming for the shredded section of my blouse and the deep gashes underneath. The punch exploded the air from my lungs and sent a fresh wash of pain sizzling through my veins.
I sucked in a breath, my broken ribs gashing muscle and nerves, pain screaming through me. And then he punched me again. My feet gave way, my body swinging out like a sack of sand. I yelped, losing what little air I’d recollected, fresh pain rending my insides with every heartbeat. My brain went fuzzy—threatening to go dark—and I shook my head, stumbling to regain my footing and keep my wits.
He held my sword arm firm, keeping it up above my head. “Hitting you is great fun, but you distract me from my duty,” he said.
“Yeah,” I said and swallowed around the pain of it. “That was the plan. Let you pummel me like a side of beef just to keep you from blowin’ that horn. Ha! Joke’s on you, right?”
A bizarre smile tugged at the corners of his mouth that pulled the skin up from his big square teeth flashing brown gums and drool. Wrong in so many ways.
That did it. I had to get free of this thing and my desperation gave the girl in me free rein. Finding my balance, I centered my weight on one leg and jerked my knee straight up, hard and fast, putting all the power of my angelic blood into the move. My knee connected with his very male body—right between his legs.
I was pretty sure his balls rammed up somewhere behind his belly button. His hold on my wrist loosened, and I jabbed the hilt of my sword into the tender spot of his temple, finally driving the big demon to his knees.
He was down, but not out and I only had a second to keep him from striking back. I cocked my blade to my shoulder like a baseball bat and swung, slicing his head from his neck.
Black ooze sprayed like a volcano from the stump left behind, coating the ram’s horn hanging against his chest. I reached for it, but before I could get a good grip his whole body disintegrated into to a stinky, black goop pile, the horn sinking down into the center of the mess.
It didn’t matter. The people who hadn’t reached Bariel were already snapping out of their trance. The spell was broken, but that didn’t stop Bariel from offering those close enough a sword to defend themselves.
Who could blame them for taking the weapon? People were fighting all around them, dying right before their eyes. They didn’t know those
people were angels, demons, and nephilim. Most probably didn’t know they were nephilim, too. They just wanted to leave and figured they’d have to fight their way out.
Another bolt of lightning snapped across the sky, so close the hairs on my arms tingled from the electrical discharge. I limped forward, shoving away my wet bangs, and tensing against each agonizing jolt of pain. The deep bruising, and even the broken rib would heal in a few minutes, but I’d been cut by a demon’s claw that left brimstone boiling under my skin.
I couldn’t waste time thinking about it. I had to stop Bariel from turning nephilim and making new gibborim to add to the battle. I spotted him for a second, only to lose him when he blinked away. He was moving fast around the stadium, cutting off the retreating nephilim who’d been entranced into coming to the stadium. Every one of them were taking up Jukar’s sword, fueling the fight.
Once the confused, frightened people picked up the sword, he’d push them into the path of an illorum or a tired magister, then moved on to the next. They didn’t know using the sword against a defender of God, even in defense of themselves, would mark them as a gibborim…and Bariel wasn’t telling them. To their panicked eyes, everyone was a threat, and so they attacked.
Bariel was sending these innocent people to their deaths. Once they were marked, they became the enemy and eventually they would be killed. I had to stop him.
I fought to focus my thoughts through the poisoned haze fogging my brain. The brimstone burned inside me, making the effort twice as hard, but I managed to track the demon. Once I locked onto him I was able to follow his unearthly quick movements. The thought solidified in my mind to move, just as he blinked from a young kid in a baseball cap—maybe fifteen years old—to an older woman, cowering on the steps near the outfield.
An instant later I stood behind him just as he bent over her, Jukar’s glistening, black sword balanced in his up turned palms. “Take it. Defend yourself. It’s your only way out,” he told her. “They’re killing everyone.”
My only thought was to get that damn sword out of her reach and just as she leaned forward to take it, I snagged my father’s sword from Bariel’s hands.
He turned, eyes wide, mouth agape, utterly surprised. He hadn’t sensed me the way most demons can sense illorum. Why? I didn’t know, couldn’t worry about it. The surprise cost him. Lightning fast I swung my sword backhand, cutting him through the neck. The old demon staggered back, blinking fast.
“Too late,” he said in a breathy whisper. “The war’s begun.” His eyes rolled to the back of his head and then his head lolled back, tilting farther and farther until it fell off his shoulders.
Bariel had been an old demon, free from the abyss longer than some seraphim had existed. But just like every demon before him, his body dropped to the hard concrete stairs and seconds later all that was left was smoldering goo, raindrops sizzling against it.
My gaze flicked to the woman, tucked into a ball, sobbing. She looked up at me. “Go,” I said. “Run. And don’t touch any swords.”
She ran.
My side was getting worse, the burn spreading into my belly. I turned around, scanning the battlefield I’d been to a gazillion times to watch ballgames. The tide was turning. Everywhere I looked, illorum and their magisters were zeroing in on the gibborim wielding angelic swords. One by one, they were killed and the swords retrieved, but for too many seraphim it was already too late.
For no good reason I glanced up at the Bedford Company’s luxury box. Fred was still battling Jukar—wearing him down, beating him. I hadn’t thought it was possible. Jukar was an archangel, far more powerful than Fred. And yet, just when it seemed Fred would strike a killing blow, Jukar would teleport to the other side of the patio and the fight would resume with Fred following him easily.
It seemed just a matter of time before Jukar would make a mistake—react a fraction too slow, move an instant too late, and Fred’s sword would take his head. But then, as though he sensed me watching, the archangel’s gaze flicked my way.
He smiled, standing taller, and swatted Fred’s sword aside with his own as effortlessly as a father would a toddler. He jabbed his hand out, poking a finger against Fred’s forehead, like pressing a pause button.
The once mighty envoy for The Council of Seven went statue still, frozen on the spot. Faster than I could see, faster than I could think, Jukar was suddenly behind him and he turned the angel to face me.
Fred’s eyes were wide, a mix of anger and fear molding his face. He knew what was happening and was helpless to stop it.
“Jukar, no,” I said.
But in the blink of an eye, the fallen archangel swung his sword, slicing through the magister’s neck, igniting a brilliant flash of light…and Fred was gone.
I raced toward him, folding time and space, crossing the stadium an instant after I’d decided to move. I didn’t know what I was going to do. I couldn’t save Fred. I just knew I had to do something. A heartbeat after the flash of light was gone, an instant after I met my father’s smiling eyes staring out at me. I was standing where Fred had been.
But I was standing there alone.
Chapter Twenty-Five
When the last of the demons and gibborim on the field had been killed, and all the Fallen had been banished or escaped, the seraphim, one by one, shot back into the thick clouds, each carrying a lifeless nephilim body until all evidence of the battle was gone. Three minutes later, the sky cleared and the sun warmed the chilly air. I didn’t know what they would do with the bodies, but I trusted they’d be cared for properly.
It’s true what they say. You don’t really know how much you’ll miss something until it’s gone. I missed having a magister or a fellow illorum or even a friend nearby. Especially when I had to drive home alone with at least one broken rib, deep gashes on my side, and brimstone eating away my insides. Still, I counted myself lucky to have walked away at all.
I’d caught a glimpse of Dan, Nenita, and Ham talking together. Nenita gave me a thumbs-up from across the park, before she and the two men vanished. At least I knew they were okay.
Yeah, it was my decision, my fault that I was alone, but that didn’t mean I had to like it. I saw a car sitting in front of my house before I pulled into my driveway. As far as I could remember, I didn’t know anyone who drove a Mercedes SLS AMG Coupe. I liked the sleek, silver color though. Expensive.
Then my stomach sank. I only knew one person—one fallen angel—with that kind of money. Jukar.
There were still puddles in my driveway. I tried to aim for a dry spot when I parked and yanked on the emergency brake in front of my garage door. Anger already simmered under my collar. I was tired, hurt, and still in shock after watching my angelic father kill a magister, a seraph, the angel who’d spent the last few days at my side and snooping around in my head, right in front of me.
It’s not like Fred and I were buddies, hanging out in front of the TV, eating popcorn, and watching old Serenity reruns. But he didn’t deserve to be taken out like that. I’d sworn to myself that if I were ever close enough to my bastard father again, I’d end him…or die trying. I just didn’t count on the opportunity arising so soon. Careful what you wish for.
I shoved open the door of my Jeep and kind of fell out, holding my side. My free hand caught the edge of the door and kept me on my feet while I took a few strength-building breaths, trying to swallow the pain. I could feel the claw marks through my ripped blouse and knew the wounds had healed over, but there was a lot of brimstone caught under the skin, and it bubbled beneath the new flesh.
There was holy water inside the house. I’d learned to keep some handy, like Band-Aids and peroxide. But no way was I letting the fallen archangel past the threshold. No. I’d deal with him first and then go inside and chug some holy water.
Mustering every last bit of energy I had, I stiffened my back, holding my head high, and started walking like I’d just gotten twelve hours of sleep and a handful of magic feel-better pills.
I was halfway down the driveway, heading for the sporty car on the street, when both its doors opened. “Bloody hell, lass, you look like total shit.”
“Liam.” I exhaled and almost dropped to my knees. The redhead was at my side in a flash, catching me. “You’re such a sweet talker.”
“That’s what I keep telling him,” Amon said, not far behind. He’d gotten out of the driver’s side.
“Whose car?”
“Mine,” the sexy, sandy-blond demon said. “Won it in a spontaneous giveaway at the dealership.”
“Aye. And by that he means the fool of a salesmen gave him the bloody car for being pretty.”
“Oh. Um, congratulations?” I said.
“I owe it all to clean living,” Amon said. The man could wear snug, muscle shirts and tight jeans like nobody’s business. He peeked under the tattered remains of my blouse. “Looks like you could use some holy water. I’m fresh out. Doesn’t set well with my kind. Y’know. You have any inside?”
I nodded, leaning more and more on Liam’s shoulder. “C’mon in.”
Liam and I hobbled inside, and Amon ran ahead to fetch the holy water from the fridge. The little Irishman helped me to my gram’s Victorian sofa in the waiting room/front parlor of my house. I cringed, thinking how my wet clothes would stain the cushions, and then decided I didn’t care enough to hobble to another room.
“Where were you today?” I asked him.
“Keeping my arse, and Amon’s, as far from that buggered battle of bloated egos as I could.”
“Why?”
“Conflict of interest,” he said.
“Oh.”
“Aye, Amon’s been dodging bloody demons and gibborim everywhere we go,” he said. “The bastards have been pressuring him to join up. Can you imagine if we’d gone to that blasted place today?”
“They would’ve forced you to fight each other,” I said, remembering the draw of that horn urging the demon and gibborim to battle.
“Aye.” His gaze drifted, and I knew he was imagining it. “And after that bloomin’ mess today they’ve only doubled their efforts. We’re at war, don’cha know. And look at us, me and my Amon, caught on opposite feckin’ sides. Brilliant.”
Hellsbane 02 - Heaven and Hellsbane Page 29
