by Lexi Ostrow
A soft rustle from the doorway had her spinning fast. She nearly released the dagger at her bumbling Stranglehold duo, they were not oft quiet, and she’d been so lost in herself that they’d been even more so.
“What?”
Arial, the darker haired of the two brothers, bowed his head and rasped, “My Queen, we have news of the Pure Angels you set us all to track.”
She raised a perfectly manicured blood-red brow but said nothing.
Dean sputtered the rest of the message for his obviously unnerved brother. “We found the one called Layel. He was rather busy this night. We followed him, but stayed back as you instructed.” Dean’s mouth twisted into a gruesome grin. “He met with a human whore and a human he saved.”
Seraphina was intrigued by at least the first encounter and slowly walked over to the brothers, cooing as she spoke. “What of the meetings, my wonderful servants? Did my lovely Pure Angel fuck a whore?” Just the thought of it had a smirk curling on her lips.
“No, he let her fuck herself, strange bloke. But the human he saved . . .” Dean let out a low whistle. “He fucked her out in the bloody street where all of London could have seen.”
Seraphina’s jaw dropped open, and she almost choked on her surprise. “You are certain of this?” Her eyes narrowed.
Arial swallowed deeply and nodded. “We watched to be certain.” He coughed and shifted uncomfortably. “It was intriguing, My Queen. The Angel should fall shortly if he has not already.”
“Very good. You two have done well. See to any demons in the dungeons you wish. Kill them for sport or take a hunt up with them for all I care.” She waved her hand dismissively as she turned her back on the Strangleholds. “It would seem I have a Fallen to greet.” With a smirk, she flashed herself to the Big Ben entrance of Hell to wait. She and Layel had things to do with one another, and she couldn’t wait for him to join her.
Eight
Layel’s eyes scanned the streets below him. It had only been a fortnight since he had assigned himself to sentry duty and it was already growing tedious. Seraphina had been unnaturally quiet. Though he’d heard a rumor that her Fallen had been tracking him at one point, having thought he was one of them. Aside from that, things had quieted down, and it unnerved him. He rarely spoke to the other Angels. Many were disgusted with how he had been able to remain pure when so many would have fallen. Others were unhappy with his choice to no longer lead them, and both left Layel on the outskirts of his own kind.
“It appears it’s going to be a quiet night,” he whispered to himself as he turned a wide arc and circled towards the castle.
As he grew closer, a slight tingling started to vibrate through his body. A demon warning. Sucking in a deep breath of air through his nose, Layel flapped his wings faster, determined to find the creature he sensed. Yet, there did not appear to be anything. Street after street was dark or barely lit with the flickering of an oil lamp. He’d worried that he had misunderstood, that he’d imagined a warning. Sighing, he wrote it off as nothing and decided to circle over the castle grounds, just for safety. The moment he grew close, every warning signal in his mind flared to life. Kicking himself for thinking there had been a mistake, he flew like a bullet towards the courtyard at the center of the castle grounds.
“Fuck.” His curse rang out as he looked down on the scene below him.
There were two Fallen actually inside the courtyard, in the center of the bloody castle. A human lay unmoving on the ground with his neck bent at an unnatural angle. Dead. The other had his back pressed against a planted tree, and his throat was being crushed by a Fallen.
With a growl, Layel pulled his wings close to his body and shot towards the ground. His feet slammed into the grass with so much force, he felt the ground shake beneath him. Both Fallen turned, their eyes devoid of anything but hate. The one holding the human male released him and took a step towards Layel. If Layel did not move fast, the castle’s inhabitants would wake. If the screaming human did not cause that first. The man alive was a Royal—third in line for the throne, and not even a bastard. While not the Crown Prince, he was still important, and it made sense why Seraphina had sent her men after him.
Layel could feel the blackness seep into his eyes as his fangs extended. “You have no business being here.” His voice was quiet so not to attract any more attention.
“It has been a long time, Layel,” one of the Fallen snarled.
Recognition slammed into him, and he frowned. The Angels had fought alongside him for many years before they’d developed a penchant for murder. “Timandine. Garamed. I am saddened to see you two this way, as it will not end well.” His eyes shifted to the dead man on the ground, nothing more than a servant, based on his attire. “You will pay for this death.” To the human male, he said one word, “Run!”
Layel didn’t watch to see if the young Royal paid him any mind. His eyes were locked onto Timandine’s as rage boiled hotter and hotter within. Seraphina had taken things a step too far, and while he was not against killing Fallen, it hurt him to know he would end the lives of two dear friends that night.
Garamed moved while Layel’s eyes were off him. He felt the slam of a shoulder into his side, just as he stumbled. Layel reacted quickly, driving a fist into Garamed’s face as Timandine slashed out at him with his claws. Sweeping his foot out, he tripped Garamed and dropped the Fallen to the ground. Flashing across the courtyard, he rose into the air and flew full force into the Angel. They both catapulted into the stone wall with a sickening crack. Garamed moaned and lay unmoving as Layel struggled to push himself up.
Timandine grinned wickedly as he flashed directly in front of Layel. “Afraid to draw our blood, Layel?”
Layel hissed back. He was afraid. Spilling Angel blood could be disastrous. It was also the only likely way he could kill two of them with no backup. Bludgeoning someone as strong as an Angel senseless took time, and with no one to watch his back, Layel did not have that luxury.
Whirling, he grabbed his dagger from his boot and threw it at Timandine, snarling as the demon moved, and the blade impaled itself harmlessly into a tree. Timandine did not hesitate, his eyes flashed, and he closed the space betwixt them quickly. Hands wrapped around his neck, and Garamed sunk his claws into Layel’s ankles. He roared in pain and kicked, slamming his foot into Garamed’s face, pissed that he hadn’t realized the man had gotten up. The crunch of bone was audible as Garamed’s nose fractured, and his blood spilled on the ground. Turning, he jammed his shoulder into Timandine’s chest and slammed a knee betwixt his legs, causing the Fallen to release the hold on Layel’s neck.
Layel didn’t have a choice, and the danger had already been unleashed. Fluidly, he tugged his Angelic blade from his back and severed Garamed’s head from his body. He clamped his mouth shut as blood sprayed in an upwards arc. Without breaking stride, he swung the blade around his body and heard the slice of flesh as it moved through Timandine’s arm.
“Fool, we are not your enemy, the humans are,” Timandine snarled as his hands went to his abdomen. The Fallen took one look at the headless corpse mere yards away and flashed out.
Layel was breathing far too calm and steady for having just finished a fight. His ankle still bled slightly, and he wrapped his hand around it and healed it, not wanting to further contaminate the ground. When he lifted his head, his eyes locked on the Royal’s, and he frowned, the foolish human had not run. Instead, the young boy, likely only ten and seven, stood staring open-mouthed at Layel.
“You’re an Angel, an honest to goodness Angel.” The boy walked towards him, hand outstretched. “I had thought you to be things of nonsense, and yet, I am staring upon three.”
Layel’s mind was screaming silently at him. All he needed to do was compel the human not to speak of the incident, and he could dispose of everything quietly. Their battle has been quiet enough, and he was certain the young prince could come up with a reason for his dead servant so he would not be missed. They were not high born after al
l. He opened his mouth and found the words would not come out.
It’s because you know that you need help in this war against Seraphina, and the Royal Family might have the resources to do so. Layel’s body was wrought with tension as his mind warred with itself. The human did not seem to mind that he had not addressed him in any fashion. Layel was also shocked that his solid black eyes and fangs had not warned the boy off. That, however, could have been his compulsion drawing the boy in without him trying. Humans were oft mesmerized, even if they should be afraid.
“I need to speak to the King. I have a message that he cannot ignore. Should you be able, lift your dead man and carry him as you show me the way.”
The boy looked as if he was going to argue for a moment and then walked past Layel. It took some effort, but the poor sod finally got the corpse onto his shoulders. “It’ll be this way then,” he said as he walked by.
Layel looked back and forth betwixt Garamed’s dead body and the prince. He needed to remove of it and quickly. “One moment.”
He picked up both the body and the head without so much as shudder and flashed over the Thames. There was so much trash in its waters, the body would be discovered, but the wings would likely have molted off long before it was. Staying just long enough to hear the splash, Layel flashed back to the courtyard and nodded. The boy began to walk.
Layel had never before been inside a castle and found himself quite impressed at the luxuries within. The halls were quiet, though he could hear noises from behind some doors. Tapestries lined the walls, next to portraits of the family that had come and gone. Candles flickered, illuminating the area as best as could be done by the human hand. If I am to tell them the truth, they will need some demon gifts to ensure their success.
The walk seemed to go on forever—up stairs and around corners—until the boy finally stopped outside a room with an impressively carved door. Guards stood on either side, protecting their king, and Layel spoke the moment one laid eyes on him.
“I am nothing more than a loyal member of the Crown. I have urgent news of an uprising that cannot wait until morning.” His voice was quiet, but the commanding tone was impossible to ignore.
The guards appeared puzzled, but unsurprisingly, they pulled open the heavy door to the king’s chambers. Surprisingly, when the door opened, the king was not in bed but at his desk, composing something. The boy stepped in, and Layel walked to stand next to him, clearing his throat to make the king to turn.
The quill launched straight up into the air, and Layel’s mouth curved into a small smirk. He might not be allowed to be seen, but the few times he had been, the reactions tended to amuse him. His mind shifted back to Audrey in the carriage, and he sucked in a deep breath, willing the memory away.
“King George, forgive the intrusion, but I bring news you must hear,” Layel said, bowing his head in respect to the human.
“What manner of costuming is this?” George asked, not rising from his chair.
“I can assure, Sire, that it is not a costume. I have come before you against the rulings of my kind because you are in danger. You will believe everything I have to say, simply because you are compelled too. However, I want you to know this is not magic or trickery. It is not even science. It is the hard facts that humans have been shielded from since the dawn of time. Facts that must come to light because of an invasion in your Court.” Layel nodded to the boy who stepped forwards.
“Good God! What in the name of all that is holy has happened?” His voice rose so sharply, a Guard knocked on the door.
“Tell them all is well,” Layel cooed.
“We are fine. I was taken aback by something, that is all,” he spoke, not taking his eyes of the dead body. “What has occurred that you bring me a dead body in the middle of the eve?”
Reaching into his pocket, he produced a pair of goggles that would shield the king from compulsion. If he was going to do this, he needed to make certain the human leader was clearheaded. “I am afraid my kind has come calling on yours. Put these on, they will contribute to making it so you have the choice to believe my words or not.”
“You appear to be an Angel, if you are speaking true and not wearing false wings. I am a man of faith, I will not question that, but I will question the implication that your kind can bring harm to mine. Angels are just,” King George said as he slipped the goggles over his eyes.
Layel sighed and rubbed a hand over his eyes. It was always the case when he had to reveal himself. Audrey had been as consumed with the religious myth about his kind as well.
“My kind, the Angels, are nothing more than the demons your bible speaks of. Yes, we have a direct mission and path to walk, but we are still demons.” He locked his eyes on King George’s. “And we are not alone.”
The first breaks of dawn were streaming through the curtains into the lavish chambers by the time Layel had finished his tale of demons. The young boy had long since given in to sleep, but King George still sat at his desk, as wide-eyed as the moment Layel had begun.
A yawn escaped the king, and Layel felt his body mimicking the act and blinked his eyes rapidly. They had much more to attend to before they could close the conversation. Sleep would have to wait.
“I fear the only way to combat this is, as you suggested, in quiet. Knowledge of this sort would cause insurmountable chaos in the streets, in the world,” George’s voice was gruff, an edge of weariness in it as well.
“Do you know any that could take on such a task? It is imperative these men be warriors, and even a few women to withstand the traits of some demons. I will hold my end of the bargain and be certain that they are given tools that do not exist in your human minds as of yet. One for tracking their enemies, one for dispatching them, and one to communicate with one another. What they extrapolate from my gifts is up to them.”
King George nodded and stroked his fingers over his greying beard. “I fear I am too old for nonsense such as this. However, I have guards I can trust above all else that can make up the ranks. Yet, you say you will have tools for creation, I would think it necessary to have a team that is good with their hands, good with developing things.”
He grew silent, and Layel could not help but wonder what the man was thinking of.
“The Clockworker’s Guild. They’ll be perfect!” his voice rose with excitement.
Layel paled. “Sire, that would be far too many people with knowledge of demons. I have seen your guilds, some are over one hundred strong.”
George frowned for a moment. “Then it shall be a secret. I shall allow the Guildmaster, Thomas Agardawes, the ability to choose who is allowed to know the dangers that lurk the streets.”
“But is he reliable? Will he speak on what he knows?”
“That I cannot say. However, as his king, I can command it of him. We must move quickly. I do not want to hear of another death within my walls. They should be impenetrable, but how do you protect against a kind that you do not know of?”
Layel unfurled his wings, to stretch them mostly, and nodded. “I understand your plight. Do not make me regret stepping forwards.” Reaching into his pocket for the second time since entering the room, he pulled out a purple crystal. “Should you need to contact me, hold this crystal and call to me. It is a demon magic, but I assure you, it will work.”
King George nodded. “I will bring him in. It will be done before the day is out. Thank you, Layel, my friend.”
Layel almost smiled at the kind words. He forced a steely gaze to drop over his face once more. “Do not make me regret this,” he said, just before flashing out. He would have a lot of explaining to do one day, but for the time being, he planned on keeping it his little secret.
Thomas yawned, trying his best to brush off the tendrils of sleep that still wrapped hands around him. Audrey had already opened the curtains wide, knowing even after a short marriage, that he had trouble rising in the mornings.
Sitting upright, he forced his arms above his head in a satisfying stretch
and turned his eyes to find his lovely wife. She sat, off the corner at their small table, sipping a cup of tea. When their eyes met, she smiled, but there was sadness in her eyes.
A growl threatened to escape as he thought about the attack she’d experienced barely a fortnight back. The constable had thrown open the Guild doors and shouted, so loudly it had echoed through the grand hall. Thomas didn’t think he would ever not hear the words in his head. ‘Your wife has been attacked.’ He’d fled from his desk so quickly he had almost overturned the ornate desk. When he’d finally arrived home, she had been sitting on the sofa, wrapped in a woolen blanket, staring oddly across the room. When he’d tried to get her to speak on it, all she had said was a magnificent creature had chased away the evil.
Despite the time that had passed, she would still not speak of the event. Thomas wanted nothing more than to track the bastards down himself, but he couldn’t do that if she didn’t let the ghosts out—which he didn’t think she was likely inclined to do. She had been recovering well. However, every so oft, grief passed over when she looked at him her. He would have to see to it that it was removed. In the short time that they had been together, he’d learned how much he truly cared for her. He might not have been in love on their wedding day, but he was skirting the emotion closely as the days went by.
Throwing off the brocade duvet, he padded swiftly across the space to his wife and kissed her on the cheek. “There are shadows in your eyes, my dear.” He dropped a trail of kisses down the length of her neck and whispered against her skin. “Tell me, how can I chase them away?”
