Angels & Demons: The Series

by Megan Linski

It’s working time. Most of the humans are out tending the fields, sowing them now that it’s early spring. They’re guarded by a various collection of demons, and some of the Nephilim council.

  I narrow my eyes at the council members, the people I used to consider my friends. Traitors.

  One of the humans tries to escape. He’s realized this is more than he bargained for. He attempts to sneak off and run into the woods. A Nephilim’s eyes, ever sharp, catch on. He nods in a demon’s general direction. The creature of hell flies toward the human on membrane-thin wings. The human starts running.

  It’s no good. Demons are always faster. Cairo goes to move, but I grab his arm and hold him back.

  We can’t risk being discovered. Not even for this.

  The demon latches onto the man and curls his clawed fingers around the human’s neck. The demon opens its mouth. The man’s spirit ferries out of his body at a quick speed, its essence silvery and white, until the demon has consumed it all and there is nothing left.

  The demon has taken his soul.

  I always hate this part. It reminds me of what happened to Sydney.

  The other humans act like nothing happened. They’ve been trained to accept this as reality, that anyone who disobeys or tries to leave the Perfect Order does not deserve to live. The Nephilim drag the human’s empty, still-living body into the woods, to leave it there so it can slowly starve and rot.

  “That’s enough.” Cairo stands. “We’ve been out here long enough. Time to go back.”

  He lifts his hand to me. I stare at it for a moment, then take it, closing my eyes as we teleport back to base.

  Warmth replaces bitter cold. The base is in Texas, in the middle of the countryside outside of Houston… my homeland.

  There’s a small, concrete structure with a metal door. It’s out of place in the field we’ve teleported into. Cairo punches in the keycode, and the door slides open. We head down a flight of stairs as the door slides shut behind us.

  The base itself is cozy, and warm. There’s a widescreen TV mounted on the wall, a large sectional couch, several bookcases stuffed to the brim, and an assortment of ceiling lamps perched to give off the appearance of natural light.

  I hate being underground. I can’t fly.

  Isolde is puttering around the kitchen, making dinner, along with Clara. Roast chicken with vegetables.

  Isolde knew all along what Cairo and Thames were. She watched them as kids, after all. She failed to tell me that she knew about Nephilim and demons until I confessed to her I was one myself. The failure to shock her let me know I ended up at exactly the right place.

  Thames and Lena are sitting on the barstools that are placed next to the island. Thames is tickling Lena’s sides, and she’s trying to bat him off. They’re incredibly cute together.

  It’s a relief to me Thames has found someone else. Lena is perfect for him, in all the ways I could never be. They haven’t kept their hands off each other since they got here.

  Unlike me and Cairo. For some reason… it’s hard when he touches me now. It’s been hard since Roman betrayed us.

  I still love him. I will always love him.

  But Roman stole something from me that night six months ago, and try as I might, I can’t get it back.

  Lena shifts on the barstool. She scratches between her shoulder blades, as if she’s uncomfortable. I remind myself Lena lost more than I that night. Roman took something from her that not even Thames can fix.

  “Hey,” Thames says as Cairo and I slide onto the barstools across from them. “What’d you find?”

  “Nothing more than usual,” I say.

  Isolde puts a plate in front of me. I smile at her and start eating, thinking. How are we going to stop all this mess?

  “I still say we go in there and smash everything,” Thames suggests. He shoves a mouthful of mashed potatoes in his mouth. “Cut Roman off at the root.”

  “You’re thinking like a surgeon again,” Lena complains. She pushes her vegetables around on her plate. “Roman’s not a cancer. You can’t just cut him out.”

  I’ve noticed Lena doesn’t eat much since she lost her wings. She’s lost quite a bit of weight.

  “Roman is a cancer.” Thames pokes her in the stomach, and she giggles. “You have a tumor, you treat it and get rid of it. Simple as that.”

  “We can’t kill him yet,” Cairo reminds his brother tirelessly. “We don’t know how.”

  “Who says we have to kill him?” Thames asks. “We can capture him, and hold him until we figure out how to get rid of him.”

  “Thames, eat your food,” Isolde tells him strictly. Thames opens his mouth then shuts it quickly, doing as Isolde told him.

  They have this argument every night, and it’s getting old. Cairo and Thames are always trying to assume the position of leader, and I’m so done with it.

  “I agree with Thames on one thing. The Nephilim and the demons are still largely unknown by the human population,” Cairo says. “Now is the time to strike. Before he announces himself.”

  “We have that going against us,” I argue. “If mortals knew about immortals, they’d be more on guard about letting them get into their head, but no one is going to believe that this stuff is real. Roman knows if he were to go public he’d become a laughing stock. He’s waiting to reveal the immortal races until everything’s been flattened and there’s no denying the obvious.”

  “The worst part about it is that he thinks he’s doing the right thing,” Lena says quietly. “He doesn’t think he’s evil, or that this is wrong. If God were to call him up right now he’d insist what he’s doing is good.”

  Lena looks depressed. Though she agrees with the plan… she doesn’t want to kill her dad.

  What’s necessary can sometimes hurt. Bad.

  “Angels are particularly legalistic,” Cairo notes. “Following God’s laws are more important to them than anything, even autonomy or free will. They can’t understand why humans wouldn’t automatically do the right thing, because they really aren’t given a choice from the beginning. It’s not how they’re made.”

  “But his followers? The demons and Nephilim, the mortals?” Thames asks. “How can they agree with him?”

  “I understand it,” I say, shrugging. “You can argue it’s sacrificing a few to make the world better as a whole. But the thing is, once you’re in, you can’t get out.”

  “This whole thing would be a lot easier if the demons and Nephilim would stop listening to him,” Lena mutters. “We’d have this thing over by now.”

  She’s right. Roman has been ordering demons to possess and steal the souls of as many humans as they can. At the same time, he sends the Nephilim out to wreak havoc. Every time I turn on the news something even more terrible is on TV. Deceitful and incompetent politicians, mass shootings, genocide, refugee crises, the threat of nuclear war… maybe some of this is organic, but the way it’s blown up in the past six months, I don’t think so. This is Roman’s work.

  And no mortal is brave enough to stand up to him.

  I know Roman’s end game. He’s attempting to make the world such a horrible place that humans will voluntarily want to give up their freedom to restore peace. Why start a war when you can trick people into thinking you’re their savior?

  He has only a few hundred followers now, yeah. But when bombs start dropping, wars begin and people all around the globe start dying in record numbers, humanity’s going to look for a new answer. A permanent solution to all the death and war.

  And right there will be Roman, with his Perfect Order.

  There’s no hurry to implement his final plan. Being immortal, he’s got time. Centuries, even, though he doubts (and I do, as well) that it’ll take that long. He learned from the worst of leaders. Only desperate people in desperate situations will elect a madman to lead them if they think it’ll bring them out of darkness.

  And the world is becoming very desperate. It’s only going to take one more major disaster. That’ll be
the turning point from chaos to madness.

  My food has suddenly turned leaden in my mouth. “I’m done,” I announce, and I push my half-eaten plate away. The eyes of my friends are on me as I head into mine and Cairo’s room. Quietly, I shut the door and sit on the bed.

  It’s safe here, cozy even, but it’s not home. I never thought I’d miss Michigan as much as I do now.

  Or thought I’d be this irritable. I journey inward, and try to nudge the ball of resentment that’s grown bigger and bigger in my chest since we arrived.

  It doesn’t budge. I know what started it.

  Bitterness.

  I knew it was too much to hope for that I could still have a living parent, but I allowed myself to hope anyway. I hate myself for that. Because I hesitated, because I trusted, I allowed Roman to roam free. When I became a Nephilim I promised I would protect people, and I let the wish that I could have a dad get in the way of that.

  Cairo comes in a little while later. He sits beside me. The bed bows down with his weight as he wraps an arm around my waist.

  I don’t pull away. Half of me wants to, but the other half wants to be touched, wants me to be okay with him being near me.

  I lean my head on his shoulder and he says, “We’ll figure it out, Cassia. I promise.”

  I lift my chin. He kisses me, and I wrap my arms around his shoulders. They’re broad and large, such a sanctuary. His hands on my hipbones are comfortable and known, his tongue gentle against mine. His lips are soft and soothing, like velvet drawn across bare skin.

  He’s always so cautious with me. Like he’s scared to push me too far.

  I know, because he’s done it before— an accident. I hate myself for that, too. The fact is, I feel comfortable and wanted in this kiss now, but overall, in our relationship—

  I haven’t felt like I can trust him since Roman.

  Cairo has never, ever let me down before. I despise that I’m making him atone for the sins of my rapist and my father. He doesn’t deserve that. He’s done nothing wrong, never given me any reason to show that he’s not worthy of my absolute faith.

  I need to figure it out. Cairo is the most precious person in the world to me. I would be lost forever if I lost him. I need to find a way to convince my heart to trust him again.

  I break the kiss first. Quietly, he says, “Are you okay? I’m worried about you.”

  “I’m fine,” I lie, not wanting to hurt him. “I promise.”

  “Cassia, you’re not acting right. You’re…” Cairo takes a breath, and doesn’t say anything.

  Cairo can sense the ocean between us. I know he can. But he’s either too polite or too scared to say anything.

  He knows I’ve been disinterested in everything. Out of it. Keeping to myself. I’d notice more, too, if I could feel anything.

  But I’m not going to bring him down into the pit with me.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” I whisper. “Heaven and hell couldn’t rip me away from you.”

  Cairo strokes my cheek with his thumb. Then his phone vibrates, changing everything. It’s a text message. He takes out his phone to look at it. His eyes widen.

  “What is it?” I ask, heart pounding.

  “It’s Athias.” He looks up at me, something new in his eyes. “He’s found my dad.”

  I don’t care what the truth is— about anything.

  The only thing I care about is keeping Thames safe.

  Which I have utterly lost the ability to do.

  “Keep your hands up and try again,” Thames tells me. He bounces up and down as he takes a wide stance. We’re in an old, abandoned barn that’s located in the field near the bunker, practicing. Since I could walk again, Thames has been taking me out every day, trying to build my strength up.

  I take a deep breath and raise the duel daggers Thames got me for Christmas. Violent, yeah, but he knows what I like.

  I slash them forward in a circular motion, one right after the other. Thames easily dodges each blade. It’s like I’m going in slow motion. My teeth clench. I lunge the right dagger out, which he casually side-steps.

  “You’re getting frustrated. Take time to think,” Thames tells me as he leaps out of the way. Not even close.

  I yell angrily and send the left blade flying. A familiar twinge— a hated one— pangs in my shoulder blade. My elbow kinks and the dagger drops out of my hand as my wrist snaps. I cry out in pain and fall to my knees as the area between both shoulders aches.

  I slump to the ground, body jerking instinctively. Thames comes closer. As he nears, the pain stops. He kneels beside me, face shadowed with concern.

  “There’s no point. Without my wings, I’m useless,” I tell him.

  “Don’t say that.” Gingerly, Thames helps me back on my feet. I stagger for a moment before recovering.

  Painfully, I allow my brown wings to come into view. The right one is jagged, crooked in awkward places, and the left one is bent at an odd angle.

  The best Clara and Isolde could do. I owe them my life.

  I attempt to fly. My wings flap uselessly, like a bird with two broken wings. I’m so embarrassed. The effort brings tears to my eyes. My feet hover off the ground, but then the right wing jerks and I go slamming back down.

  The attempt knocks me to my knees again. Thames picks me back up.

  “I can’t fight. I can’t fly,” I whisper. “What can I offer this team?”

  “Maybe your strength isn’t fighting anymore,” Thames says lowly. He bends down and picks up the dagger I dropped and hands it to me. “Maybe you need to focus on something else.”

  “Like what?” I sheath the daggers to the holster on my hips and ask, “If I can’t fight, what good am I? Cute sentiments aren’t going to stop my dad.”

  “We’ve got enough fighters,” Thames tells me. His hand rubs the area between my shoulder blades, where it hurts. “What we need are people who can outsmart who we’re fighting.”

  I scowl. Thames would hate the idea of me protecting him, so I don’t voice it aloud. He’s pretty confident in his ability to protect himself. I mean, who’s stupid enough to challenge a hot-headed cambion who’s practically indestructible?

  The only two immortals stronger than he is. Cody… and Roman.

  Which means I have to get them before they get Thames.

  To save my true love, I have to kill my father. A thing that would be more abhorrent to me if I could actually do it. He knew just how to break me. I’ve become weak.

  “You know your dad better than any of us,” Thames says, breaking me out of my innermost thoughts. “What do you think he’s planning?”

  I fall backwards onto a pile of hay behind us. Thames sits next to me… I puff a lock of hair out of my face, thinking.

  “That’s the thing,” I start. “I don’t know my dad as well as I thought I did. If that was true, we wouldn’t be in this mess. I would’ve caught on before any of this happened.”

  “Don’t blame yourself,” Thames says sharply. “It’s not your fault.”

  “But what if it is?” I turn on my side and prop my head on my hand. “I should’ve listened to what he was trying to tell me. I should’ve noticed the signs in my training, should’ve—”

  “Shh.” Thames puts a finger on my lips. “Keep talking like that, and I’m gonna have to make you be quiet. With my mouth.”

  I smirk at the tease. “I’m trying to be serious here.”

  “We don’t need more warriors.” Thames grabs my hips and pulls me over so I’m lying on top of him. Our bodies press together, and warmth begins to spread from my middle throughout my being. “That’s all the world is now, people going to war against other people. Maybe that’s why God made you this way. We need more kindness in the world, not more fighting.”

  “What, allowed Roman to break me so I can be nice to people?” I snarl. “I was perfect, the best weapon we had against Roman, and we never got a chance to use me. He destroyed me before I had a chance.”

  “He didn’
t destroy you. He could never do that.” Thames argues. For a cambion, he looks so innocent and pure right now, like he believes everything he says. “You’ve got too much spirit.”

  “But…” My eyes start to water. “I can’t do anything. I’m not a Nephilim anymore. I’m not me.”

  “That’s not true,” he says, shaking his head. “You’re ten times stronger than Roman, and that’s why he broke your wings. He knows you have the power to break him. And he should be scared of that.”

  Thames’ lips start trailing my neck. “Enough talking. The only thing I want to hear come out of your mouth is my name.”

  Bliss starts creeping along the edges of my doubt. Thames’ mouth leaves a pattern on my neck before he starts biting at my chin, then presses his full lips to mine. My mouth opens to let him in, and my wings disappear, taking the pain with them. Possessively, he swings me onto my back with one arm before climbing astride my hips. He continues to ravage my mouth, and the hay beneath me starts smoking.

  “You’re going to cause a fire,” I breathe as he raises his mouth off of mine for one second.

  “Let it burn,” he murmurs. His fingers trail downward, grazing the edges of my collar, where my breasts lie underneath. I take a deep breath and lift my fingers up. Slowly, I start to undo the buttons on his shirt. Finally! Is this the moment?

  It’s agonizing, going one by one like this, but I finally manage to get them all undone. I tug his sleeves downward and his arms slide backward to let the flannel slide down.

  Just as I’m about to pull his shirt off is when Thames’ phone rings.

  He groans, and gets off of me. Mentally, I give a string of curse words that would make a sailor blush.

  Thames checks his phone, and complains, “Why does my brother have to be such a cock block?”

  I say nothing. My head’s still spinning. His eyes dart back and forth as he reads the message, and says, “Family meeting. Mandatory, apparently. Athias has found something important.”

  “About damn time,” I grumble. If something has to interrupt me potentially getting some, at least it’s a lead on defeating Roman. “What is it?”

  “He didn’t say.” I frown when Thames’ perfect abs and sculpted pecs disappear underneath flannel. He buttons his shirt back up, which makes me sadder.