Speak Thy Name (The Nephilim Book 3)

by Dana Marie Bell

  She opened her mouth, and he carefully fed her the bite. “Mm.”

  Damien smiled. “Finish as much as you can, all right?” He glanced at his watch. “Abby should be here soon with Rose. Get her up to speed on what she needs to do. I’ve got to finish my own preparations.” He kissed her lightly. “Stay safe, sweetheart.”

  “You, too.” She watched him go up the stairs, his steps light, as if he were eager to face what was coming. “You, too.”

  Chapter 25

  Damien approached the two-story brick building with some apprehension. He had the earpiece firmly seated. Sam’s voice flowed calmly through it, soothing his nerves.

  “Okay. So this place is for women only and was established in 1979 by Paul Armitage Sr. Paul Armitage Jr. continued the grand tradition of human farming by opening up the men’s shelter in 1999, the women’s shelter in 2002, and the family shelter in 2006. He’s won humanitarian awards for this shit.”

  Damien grunted. He had a mic, they all did, hidden by his jacket, but he didn’t want any possibility of the Shem hearing him.

  “Beth says her team is in place. Abby is still waiting for the others to show up.”

  “Then we wait,” Dante replied, still sitting in the car across from the shelter. Seth was already in the air, circling above. Every now and then he’d land on the roof and flash his turquoise wings at them. “We want to synchronize so the Shem have no chance of coordinating their defenses.”

  “Yes, sir.” Sam relayed the order to her friends. “Done.”

  “Thank you, mia sorella.” Dante’s tone was affectionate as he called Sam his sister.

  Hell, all of Damien’s brothers were taken with Sam. Her pups were adorable, and she was so sweet and caring that none were immune to her charms. Even Gabriel smiled more when she was there. The fact that Dante now called her sister didn’t surprise him in the least.

  “Beth says to watch your fine ass out there, Dante.”

  “Stop talking about Dante’s ass.” Damien couldn’t help it if he was a little jealous, even if it was a passed-along message. The only ass she should be talking about was his.

  Sam giggled quietly. “Yes, sir.”

  “Damn straight.” He pulled up his collar, shivering against the chill. He’d positioned himself in an alley near the shelter, hoping that if someone saw him they’d call him in as a prowler, giving Dante proof that there had been a call. Even if someone didn’t call it in, Dante could say he was passing by and saw Damien and, worried for the children inside, he’d decided to check things out.

  It would work if things went according to plan. But no plan, as Damien well knew, survived contact with the enemy. That was what he hoped to avoid: contact with Shem. If they were right and other Neph were being held here, they’d raid Armitage’s home and defeat them there.

  Damien patted his gun. If they did show up, however, they’d find one hell of a resistance waiting for them.

  “It’s a go.” Sam’s quiet voice flowed into him. “Beth called it in. It’s going out on the police scanners now.”

  “Ten-four,” Damien responded, pushing away from the wall he’d been leaning against. He began walking out of the alley and toward Dante’s car, where Dante was responding to the call. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a flash of blue light, there and gone again in an instant. Seth had heard the word go and was probably in the air, keeping an eye on them.

  He joined Dante, the two of them walking toward the front door of the shelter. Damien turned his collar down and pulled out his badge, a duplicate that Dante still scowled over whenever he saw it. In fact, he was scowling now. “Put that thing away.”

  “We have to identify as police to get in, remember?” Damien kept his badge visible, but no longer held it in his hand. He hung it off his belt, leaving his coat open and exposing his dark slacks and white collared shirt. Now he looked like he belonged next to Dante, who stood a few steps above him.

  Considering all the shit he’d given Sam for doing so-called illegal things, he should have his own ass whipped. A fake police badge was about as illegal as it got.

  Dante knocked on the door. Nothing happened for a moment, but soon a female voice sounded over a speaker. “Yes? Can I help you, officer?”

  “I’ve heard a report of a prowler in the area, ma’am. I’m just here to take a look around inside and out to make sure everything’s all right.”

  The buzz of the door allowing them in was louder than Damien expected, but he followed behind Dante as if nothing was wrong. He kept his badge partially obscured by his coat. He didn’t need anyone looking up the badge number and realizing he wasn’t Detective Purvis, Dante’s ex-partner who’d retired a few months back. Gio had duplicated the badge, ignoring Dante’s fire-breathing fury. He’d calmly stated that Damien might need it someday.

  That day was today.

  A woman met them in an open area that must have once been the home’s receiving room. It was faded and old-fashioned, but clean. She glanced at their badges and relaxed almost instantly. “A prowler is a big deal around here, Officer. Sometimes we have parents who feel that the children we house shouldn’t be here. They’ll try and break in to take their kids, even if the primary custodian is here with us.”

  Dante nodded. “We’re aware, ma’am. I’m sure most of the residents will rest easier if we can make sure the building is secure for you.”

  “By all means.” She gestured for Dante to follow her. “We’re set up so that each family has their own room and privacy, with a communal family room, kitchen and dining rooms. The… Why isn’t your partner following?”

  “Damien is going to remain here. I have someone else checking outside, so don’t be alarmed if you see a flash of light. Damien will coordinate with both of us and make sure the area is secure.”

  “Oh.” The woman seemed to be a little suspicious but led Dante away despite it. “As I was saying, the bedrooms are upstairs…”

  Her voice slowly faded away, leaving Damien alone in the receiving room. “We’re in.”

  “I heard. Look for the painting of good old Charlie boy. If we’re right, that’s your ticket in. If not, look for something in that alcove that could be used to open a secret door.”

  Like he didn’t know that, but this was the first time Sam was anywhere near one of their ops. Her nerves were showing in her reminders and updates. Remembering his first op, he couldn’t really blame her. Compared to then, he’d been a snot-nosed brat with far too much ego and far too little actual combat experience. Thank God he’d been partnered with Dante, who could kick ass with the best of them even before he’d become a detective.

  Damien began searching the walls, looking for a portrait of the Shem who’d started this whole thing. There were a surprising number of portraits on the walls, but eventually he found Charles Armitage. His was the only portrait in the tiny foyer, right where he thought the “empty space” was on the blueprint. “Gotcha. You were right.”

  “Okay. Check the nameplate.”

  Sam’s voice trembled as she spoke. She was terrified for him, but was trying to do her best to remain calm and in control.

  He shook off the need to comfort her and looked at the nameplate. Charles Armitage, born October 31,1884, died October 30, 1929, one day before his forty-sixth birthday. “Tell the others, he was born 10-31-1884.”

  “Halloween. Perfect date for a demon to be born.” Sam relayed the information.

  Damien pressed against the nameplate, surprised when the whole bottom of the picture frame moved. He pressed harder and the bottom of the frame fell open, revealing a number pad. “Bingo.” He pressed in 1-9-2-9, but a red light flashed once before going out. Hoping that hadn’t triggered a silent alarm, he put in 1-8-8-4. “1884 was the code for mine.”

  “Beth says that Gio’s was 1929. Micah’s turned out to be 1906, the year the factory opened. Jesus, you think he was feeding on people that whole time?”

  Something clicked behind the painting, and the whole wall
swung inward, showing a spiral staircase. “No elevator, but we’ve got a spiral staircase heading down.”

  “Be careful. If we get cut off I’m alerting the others.”

  “Yes, sweetheart.” Damien began to carefully climb down the staircase. It was sturdily made. The staircase didn’t move an inch, nor did the metal steps squeak as he made his way down. He’d been on more than one spiral staircase that had done both, but this one looked original to the building and was very well maintained.

  Damien got to the bottom of the stairs and swallowed a curse. There were large dog crates in the room stacked one on top of the other. The room was long and narrow, allowing for four crates along each wall and one crate at the back, each doubled up for a total of eighteen crates. Ten of them had people in them.

  Nephilim people.

  “Oh God,” one of them whispered. “Tell me I’m not seeing things.” The female reached out, her fingers almost skeletal. “Please, let us out.”

  Another one, male, shivered in the bottom of his cage, his gaze never leaving Damien. Several of them seemed half-conscious. Damien cursed softly. “We have ten Nephilim to move.”

  “Ten?” Sam’s voice squeaked. “Holy fuck.”

  “My thoughts exactly.” Damien looked at the cages and noticed the locks on each one. “They’re padlocked shut.”

  “What are?”

  Damn. He’d forgotten to mention the cages. “They’ve put them in fucking dog cages.”

  Silence. No one said a word, not even a curse. They had to be as outraged and sorrow-filled as he was.

  “Beth, Abby, Damien’s found ten Nephilim in dog crates with padlocks on them. Let the others know.”

  Damien took a look at the lock. It was odd-looking, with scrollwork all around it. He couldn’t find anywhere a key would go, but there must be something he was missing.

  “I’m a Seris,” the female said. “Fire doesn’t work on them, or at least mine doesn’t. Now I’m too weak to try.”

  “There’s no opening for a key, either,” a soft male voice piped up. It was the man who’d been watching him. “I tried conjuring something that would open it or break it, but nothing worked. I think the Shem forged the locks themselves.”

  “They burn when you touch them,” a third voice whispered.

  “Blood. They were doused in blood. The Shem forged them, the Nephilim quenched them,” a fourth voice sighed. A male voice. “They drink our pain and bind us with it.” A familiar voice.

  “Eli? Eli van Licht?” Damien approached the speaker, a man at the back of the room. Pale blond hair and eyes the color of peridots, with a face he’d seen more than once during his association with Seth. “Jesus, Eli.”

  “Wait. Eli is down there?” Seth sounded outraged.

  “Stay where you are, Seth.” Damien couldn’t allow Seth in here, not yet. “There’s not enough room for all of us down here.” Damien glanced around, looking for something, anything he could use to open the cages. “Fuck the lock. Are the cages cursed?”

  “No.” The woman who’d first spoken touched the metal. “But for some reason it’s resisting my heat.”

  “And my strength.” Another man, in one of the upper cages, pulled at what looked like flimsy wire. “I have no idea what these are made of, but I’m a Legionnaire. I should have been able to break out the very first day.”

  Damien scowled. “Let me take a quick look.” He grabbed one of the empty cages, cursing when the thing made a rattling sound. He checked all over, but in the dim light he could barely— “What the fuck?”

  “Damien, Piotr found something similar in his homeless shelter, but there’s some sort of strange words burned into the cages.” Sam’s tone was even more stressed than before.

  “Tell him not to try and say the words. They’re Shem words, infernal. He’ll hurt himself if he tries.”

  Once again Sam relayed his order to Abby. “Also, Dante and the woman are heading back toward the front. She’ll be expecting to see you there.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Yeah.” She gulped. “Three cars just pulled up outside the shelter.”

  “Son of a bitch.”

  “Same thing is happening at the other three shelters. You have to get everyone out, Damien. Not just the Neph. They’ll kill all those humans.”

  “No, that would generate too much publicity.” But get Dante on the front page as some corrupt cop? Oh hell yes, they’d do that in a heartbeat. “Where the hell is Seth?”

  “I don’t know. I saw his flash at the back of the house, but I can’t track a ghost. Seth? If you’re there, flash your wings.”

  “Anything?” God, if they’d gotten to Seth already the rest of them were fucked.

  “I’m on the roof,” Seth’s soft voice replied. “I’ve got rear.”

  Which meant that Seth would swoop down just as the last of the Shem entered the building, trapping them between him and Dante. It was a move they’d used before, and while it didn’t always work, in this situation it wasn’t a bad idea. Damien could protect the injured Nephilim in the basement while his brothers cleared out the Shem.

  “I can use the angel’s tongue to counter whatever dark spell is on the cages, but none of the others have that power.” He had no idea how he’d manage to get to all three places in time, either.

  “Do you have to counter each cage, or will one time take care of all the cages in earshot?”

  “The second.” Damien prepared to say the words. They had no time left.

  “Hold on one sec, I’ve got an idea.”

  Only the fact that it was Sam asking kept him from simply speaking and allowing the chips to fall where they may. He kept the words on the tip of his tongue just waiting for her okay. He had no idea what she was up to, but he hoped like hell it worked.

  “All right. Make it loud, sweetie. One, two three… Go!”

  Damien shouted the golden tongue, the language of the angels flowing out of him in a glorious stream. Somewhere above him, he dimly registered multiple screams.

  The cages came apart, falling away from the Nephilim in rusted, twisted heaps that quickly disintegrated into piles of dust. A couple of the caged Neph found themselves falling to the floor or onto one another, but the scramble to stand was aided by the sound of the Shem mobilizing above them.

  The Legionnaire cracked his neck in a move that reminded Damien of Gio. His hungry grin scared the crap out of Damien. “Let’s get this party started.”

  Chapter 26

  Above him, combat raged. Whoever was up there was giving Seth and Dante a hard time, because Dante was cursing in Italian. The words were a steady flow, along with the heat that seeped along the edges of the door. “Stay down here. Most of you are wounded. We’ll get you back to our cell and take care of you, but you can’t try and fight if you’re too weak. You’ll just get in our way.” Brutal, but true. He couldn’t babysit and shoot Shem at the same time.

  “I’m the last one they picked up,” Mr. Legionnaire growled. “I’m ready and able to kick Shem ass.”

  Damien nodded once. “Good. Guard the others, then. Keep the Shem off them. They might get through us to you.”

  The Legionnaire scowled but nodded. “Your op, man.”

  “Trust me. If we’ve got the numbers I think we do, you’ll see some action.” Damien didn’t have time to coddle the guy any more than that. “Sam, tell me when the foyer is clear.”

  “Seth’s in,” she replied crisply. “He’s right by good old Charlie’s portrait.”

  Since the door swung inward rather than outward, that could work in Damien’s favor. “All right, I’m heading up.” He pulled his gun, checked that he had one in the chamber, and undid the safety.

  “A gun?” Mr. Legionnaire snorted in disgust. “You an Oracle?”

  What was this guy, an idiot? What did they teach in his cell? “Malachi, in case the language of the angels clogged your ears.” With that, Damien started up the spiral staircase. Thank God there was only enough room
for one at a time, because he had the feeling Mr. Legionnaire would have loved to push past him and dash into combat. “Sam, I need a sit-rep.”

  “Seth is still in the foyer, Dante is whittling away at the Shem, but there are at least ten of them left. The nurse or whatever she was is down. We have a similar situation at the other locations.” There were sounds of her moving around, probably checking on Abby and Beth’s terminals. “Micah’s team has things under control. They’re beginning evac of the captured Nephilim. Sasha’s team…is having fun?” She gagged. “Oh my God, that is so wrong.”

  Damien bit back a smile. Now wasn’t the time to be amused by his girlfriend. “I’m going in. I need eyes outside, in case our friends call in reinforcements.”

  “On it.”

  Damien reached the top of the stairs and cracked open the door. He was forced to back up by the opening door, but that was a good thing, as Seth’s sword would have taken his head had he been on the upper step. As it was, the breeze of its passing ruffled his hair.

  “Sorry.” Seth went back to battling the Shem, his sword flashing in the light of his wings.

  Damien’s gun wasn’t going to be as useful as Seth’s sword in close quarters combat. He needed to get past the Angelus and into the receiving room, where Dante was battling the rest of the Shem. Seth could handle himself in this small space. His wings kept the Shem from getting past him and back to their cars. Their only option was to face Seth’s sword or head into the receiving room, where Dante and his flames were hot and ready.

  If they could get past Dante, they could get out the back door and make a run for it. It was up to Damien to see to it that they didn’t.

  Damien darted under the blow of a Shem and rolled into the receiving room. He took cover behind the reception desk and peered around the edge.

  Dante had a wall of flame going, daring the Shem to cross it and get to him. There had to be at least ten Shem in here, testing the boundaries of Dante’s fire. Hell, there were flames flickering along Dante’s back. The Seris would sprout wings of fire soon if Damien didn’t step in. They hadn’t completely tested Dante’s limits when his fire wings were out. It was a new power, and one none of them had heard of before Dante, so they were being cautious. Gabriel was as confused as the rest of them, making Dante’s new power even rarer than Damien had originally thought.