Hella nodded. ‘Okay, then. Let’s go.’ She pulled on her boots and turned to Salem. ‘I think you should stay here.’ But the cat’s nose was buried in his food. He ignored her. ‘Glad you agree.’
Tahlia Terra was seated at the head of a long polished wooden table waiting patiently for her nephew. Her hair was pale blonde, unlike Tommy’s, and a light dusting of freckles speckled her cheeks. She stood when they entered the room, and Hella noticed she was wearing simple dark jeans, tight boots, and a well-fitting white blouse. She had a very soft smile that pulled at her pale cheeks as she held her hand out to Hella.
‘Hellora? So pleased to meet you. I’m Tahlia Terra, Tommy’s aunt. Please.’ She indicated a chair next to her own, and Hella and Tommy sat either side of her at the end of the table.
‘I prefer Hella, actually. Nice to meet you, too.’
Tahlia nodded, slowly and gracefully. She had the intentional movements that made Hella think of royalty; poised and careful. ‘Of course. Hella, welcome to our House. I trust Tommy has made you feel comfortable. I would like to formally extend an olive branch, Hella, to you and your coven. We should be more than allies; we should be close friends.’ Tahlia’s voice was soft as silk.
‘I think so, too,’ Hella said and saw Tahlia brighten. Her eyes lit up, grey with flecks of green.
‘Excellent.’ Tahlia brought her hands together on the table. ‘I understand you’re new to your craft and may need a little training?’
Hella nodded.
‘Very well, very well. That’s how you start out.’ She indicated her nephew. ‘Warlocks are similar to witches, Hella. We’re hit with our gifts, and then we have to learn how to control them. We have training areas here that you’re welcome to use. Tommy can help you.’ Tahlia smiled again, showing white teeth.
‘Thank you, that’s very kind. But I would like to point out that we have some mutual friends who are in trouble. Meele Scire has been taken, as well as Amara Sana, but so has the sister of one of my coven, Tessa. She’s only eleven years old. We tried to find out where the angels are keeping them, but—’ Hella paused, remembering the explosive potion. ‘That didn’t work. Are you able to find out where they are?’
Tahlia listened politely, her eyes wide with understanding and concern. ‘I’m afraid we don’t currently know their whereabouts, and all we can do is send out search parties. But we will help wherever possible, Hella, you can count on that. We want our people back as much as you do.’ Tahlia stood then and shook Hella’s hand once more. ‘You’re very welcome here, Hella. Tommy will show you the training areas tomorrow. But for now, I suggest you get some rest.’
Chapter Forty-Nine
Meele
Meele’s wings flapped gently against her back, the sunlight filtering in through the window set them shining in stunning shards of gold, her hair like liquid sunlight, and her scales cast reflections of light upon the walls.
‘You think you’re some hot shit, don’t you?’ The angel glowered at her. ‘I’m not coming in there, so don’t go being all flirty at me.’ He snarled, an unattractive motion, screwing up otherwise pale and smooth features.
Meele smiled. ‘I’ve been told I look nice. You don’t agree?’ She tilted her head so that the sunlight would catch the scales on her neck, conveniently showing a proportionately indecent amount of her skin.
The angel’s face went slack. He stared. Behind her, Amara tried not to giggle, stifling her laughter with a hand clasped over her mouth. She kept to the shadows beside Tessa.
‘How old are you?’ the angel asked curiously. His sandy hair fell into pale eyes, and he shook it away. He was rather dull-looking for an angel, Meele thought. Though of course, even the most attractive ones were bloodthirsty monsters.
‘Now, now. Don’t you know that it’s rude to ask a lady that? How about you make it up to me, hmm? We’ve been in here for two days. We need some water, some food.’
The angel looked a little dubious, as if he were now just aware that he may be getting tricked here. ‘Not supposed to do that unless I’m told.’
Meele pouted. ‘But we’re on your watch. What do you think your bosses will say if three prized, beautiful faeries, starve to death before we can be received and,’ she paused, ‘tended to? I suspect you would get into trouble for that.’ The faerie swayed in the sunlight, speaking sweetly.
As he thought on that for a moment, Meele took the opportunity to delve into his mind. He liked to watch the sunlight dance on her, but there was a flicker of fear behind that delight. She dug deeper, but he interrupted. ‘Okay, I’ll get you something.’ He turned to leave, but cast one last, longing look at Meele before he went. He thought something positively flattering at that moment, if not a little uncomfortable, coming from an angel.
Amara reappeared from the shadows. ‘Did you get anything?’
Meele stood up straight, all sense of whimsy gone. ‘Something, yes. He was afraid of the light.’
‘Why would an angel be afraid of light?’ Amara frowned.
Meele shook her head. ‘I’m not sure,’ she said slowly. ‘But I’ve heard rumours.’
‘What kind of rumours?’ Amara pressed, but Meele silenced her with a look. The sandy-haired angel was returning to their cell. She could hear him.
So few faeries in this place these days. Hard to catch a nice faerie. So pretty, she is. Vampire won? Damn. Should’ve bet on the wolf. He passed another angel, and Meele watched as they traded what looked like balls of light. Meele frowned, watching him walk closer to her cell. Don’t get too close to the light. Don’t let her see. Damn sunlight burns. Thank the stars I’m never posted to the north of the world where everything is always reflecting off the snow, burning all the time.
Meele froze. She locked eyes with the angel, but tried to keep her expression blank. A startling revelation hit her like a blow to the stomach. Angels are burned by sunlight. Finally. Something useful.
The angel came to the barred-door of her cell and slid her three bottles of water through the bars, as well as some muesli bars. Meele took them silently, unable to switch on the sweet smile she had for him earlier. He paused, sensing her change. ‘What is it? All you wanted was food, huh? Typical demon creature.’
Meele set the food and bottles down, then shimmered. ‘Wait.’ She reached out a hand, her nails shining gold. ‘Come back.’
The angel turned slowly. ‘What?’
‘I just wanted to thank you. For the food, and water. I really appreciate it.’
The angel smirked, as if proud of himself for not letting his own captives die. At least, not of starvation or thirst. ‘You’re welcome.’
‘What’s your name?’ Meele asked, her voice soft and sweet as honey.
‘Terrekai,’ he said with an easy smile. He swaggered back over to the cell door. ‘What’s yours?’
‘I’m Meele.’ Her hand still outstretched, she dared something she had never dreamed to do before. She reached out. And grazed the arm of an angel. ‘It’s nice to meet you, Terrekai.’
He seemed to puff up like a bird. ‘Call me Terry.’
Meele dipped her head. ‘Did I hear that you guys bet on vampires and werewolves in here?’ She let her eyes glow, as if intrigued rather than disgusted.
Terry nodded. ‘Yes, we do. We have our Heavenly mission, but we must also have our fun.’
Meele chuckled musically. ‘Of course you must. Vampires and werewolves are the outcasts of my kind.’ A natural sneer crept into her voice. ‘Pathetic savages.’
Before he even realised it, Terry was nodding along, smiling at Meele through the cold bars of a cage. ‘You think so too?’
‘Oh, of course. We all do. We don’t socialise with them. You know,’ she said, hesitantly touching his bare arms, ‘I would bet on a werewolf if I were you. Vampires are bloodthirsty, sure, but werewolves… they’re more primal. Better fighters.’
Terry actually laughed. ‘You know, I was going to bet on the wolf
, and I didn’t!’ He laughed. ‘Oh, the bastard vampire. I now owe Malachai two auras, the beast!’ He chuckled loudly.
‘Oh, you do? Is that what you bet with, you devilish angels, you?’ Meele smirked.
Terry’s pale eyes grew dark. ‘We do. We can see auras. We bet for them. We earn them. And then we pass them up to Father, and are rewarded for them.’ There was something like reverence in his voice.
Meele’s hand froze. ‘Are you talking about human auras?’ she whispered.
Terry considered. ‘Human auras are fine, yes. But they’re weaker than yours.’ He leaned forward so that his face was pressed almost up against the bars. ‘Cambion auras are better, especially warlocks. It must be the magic, but they’re the strongest. Same for witches. Yours looks pretty strong too, though. For a faerie.’ His smile turned feral. Fierce. Hungry.
‘Thank you.’ She smiled, trying to keep her voice light. The more she delayed them, the longer she, Amara and Tessa would live—hopefully with their Marks intact—and the more likely they were to escape. And pass on the intel she had gathered. ‘I bet you have earned a lot of auras,’ Meele went on, stroking his ego.
Terry smiled again, an easy thing he seemed to do. It was odd to watch, Meele thought, creatures so intent on pain and destruction were also ready to smile, laugh and flirt with their prey. ‘Oh, I have. But Malachai is the real hero. He’s collected hundreds. You met Mal, he’s got the green eyes.’
A frozen fist clenched inside Meele’s chest. ‘Oh, yes. He seems… strong.’ Turning that angel’s personality into a compliment felt like it almost gave her a heart attack, the strain on her muscles, constricting the air. She heard Amara squeak behind her.
‘Oh, he’s the best. I want to be like him someday.’ Terry swooned.
Meele did her best to smile. ‘I’m quite sure you’re more like him than you think.’
‘Thanks,’ he smiled gratefully. ‘Enjoy the food. I’ve got to get back. Don’t worry,’ he added, ‘I’m sure someone will be with you soon.’ To tear off your Marks, and kill you.
Chapter Fifty
Remy
Remy Stealthing sat back in a warm outdoor chair in the midst of Sian’s backyard. The leader of their coven had given her a stern talking-to about her previous spell, but here they were, relying on her magic and know-how to create the potion that would allow them to purge the earth of angels once and for all.
The rest of the coven gathered around a bubbling cauldron, peering through Remy’s own spellbook. She wasn’t banished to the sidelines, exactly, but nor was she encouraged or welcomed to join the group. They flipped idly through her work, then, as midnight approached, set it aside for their blessing ritual.
Under the soft gaze of the shining moon, Sian held the hands of the witches, but Remy counted that two were missing, not including herself. She peered around for the sad and tormented face of Hunter Mea, of House Anima Mea. The nineteen year old held herself together away from the group, crouched into a ball of misery. Her girlfriend, Lola, tried to console and reassure her as always. They made a nice couple, Remy thought. It might be frowned upon by the Faerie House for their not being matched up to one of her own kind, but even Remy thought those rules were oldschool and outdated. The girls complimented each other.
Lola was strong and sure of herself, a talented and gifted witch. Hunter was part-witch, part-fae, and her combined powers were a wonder to behold. As her House powers of the soul, Hunter’s ability to be connected to one’s aura and soul was a mystical thing. As the women embraced, a soft glow emanated from them, Hunter’s indigo wings splayed out, and Lola stroked her glistening hair in the darkness.
Remy always thought it was intriguing, meeting half-breeds, hybrids, if you will. Unlike other faeries, Hunter had her telepathy and her wings, but absolutely no other visible Marks to indicate her fae lineage; no scales or swaths of colour. But she definitely had the power of both. Remy assumed her mother was a witch, her father the fae, though she didn’t know their names. Curiously, Remy wondered if Tessa’s father, the same as Hunter’s, had had an affair with another Cambion. Remy had never met the young fae, and, she thought, it would be interesting to see her abilities; if her mother were a warlock or fae of a different House to her father, then Tessa had the potential for mixed House abilities; a rarity. And if Remy chased anything, it was rare and uniquely strong powers.
Remy blinked, focusing again on the coven. Sian looked as if she wanted to call Hunter and Lola back to the ritual, then reconsidered. She let them have this private moment, and Remy finally looked away. The remaining witches held hands over the stone altar and began softly chanting a blessing to the Goddess for peace, health and love that she might bestow upon them.
Remy knew the ritual was more a cornerstone of their practice rather than a pragmatic means of protection. When they were through, Sian approached Remy in her corner and caught her pretending to admire the roses climbing the large painted white archway. Sian plucked one from the stem, the white petals caught the moonlight in dazzling contrast to the darkness of her hair. ‘Are you brooding, old witch?’ Sian asked playfully.
Remy scoffed at her. ‘Brooding? No. Believe it or not, I am commiserating.’
Sian sat down opposite her, fidgeting with the rose. ‘For whom?’
The old witch took a deep breath. ‘For us all, if we don’t finish this potion.’
Sian took hold of the rose, used one of the thorns to prick her finger, then let the drop of red blood fall into the depths of the flower and muttered a spell. ‘As I’m sure you remember, divination is one of my favourite hobbies.’ She watched as the flower bloomed fully, bursting and beautiful. And then it exploded in a shower of fire and ash, crumbling to her feet. ‘Oh, no. That’s sombre.’
Remy watched with wide eyes as the prediction of Sian’s future literally went up in flames. ‘I’m sure it’s only metaphorical,’ she reasoned.
Before the ash could be blown away on the summer breeze, a blinding white light illuminated the sky beyond the means of a million shining moons.
A dozen angels descended into the garden and the witches began to scream.
The once-silent and peaceful garden crowned with beautiful white roses was now as bloody and terrifying as an abattoir, all screaming and slashes of red. Sian ran up the stairs, up into the house, and Remy used her magic to shelter herself from the worst of the blows, though they attacked the others, apparently not seeing her at first. The coven were sitting ducks. Hunter and Lola cowered together in their corner and then made a mad dash out the back gate.
One angel picked up Maggie, held her high, and took a feather from his wings. The angel slashed at her body, sprays of red visible against the white light of the moon. He was taking his time while she screamed out, her legs dangling feebly.
Remy’s heart was in her throat. She cast a few spells out into the fray, but they did little to help or protect any of her coven. There were too many of the angels. She made an agonising decision, then followed Sian up the stairs into the house, leaving her fallen and falling sisters behind. With a hand to her amulet, Remy called on her powers, hoping it would be enough if one of the winged beasts came crashing down upon her. But she made it to the house and ran out the front door. Remy disappeared into the night, the screams of her fellow witches scraping against her ears as she left them to die.
Chapter Fifty-One
Tommy
Tommy led Hella back to her room and bid her goodnight, hoping she would get some rest. He did not envy her. Family upheaval, losing her friends and gaining magic and insight into a different world. What a week. As well as leaving home. She must be exhausted.
He went back to his own rooms, climbed into bed and fell asleep instantly. When he woke early the next morning, sunlight streaming through his open window, he shuffled out of bed.
A few minutes later, in a fresh set of clothes, he was knocking on Hella’s door. She opened it, obviously still getting ready, but up and awa
ke. For the first time, Tommy saw her hair completely down and waving around her shoulders, framing her face in perfect messiness. ‘Sorry, I can come back?’
‘Don’t be silly.’ She waved him in and shut the door. She was dressed in a new set of clothes he hadn’t seen before. Workout clothes. Smart. So she could easily move around. Tommy stretched in his own loose clothing. ‘Let me just fix my hair.’ She went to the mirror, scratching Salem’s head as he slept peacefully in a patch of sunlight.
‘How did you sleep?’ he asked as she attempted to tame her wild curls with a brush.
‘Like a rock,’ she smiled into the mirror at his reflection while she tied her hair back into her signature braid. Tommy now had a new appreciation for why it always seemed a little messy, but, he thought, it was very cute.
‘Same,’ he said with a smile. ‘So, today we should get you training. I expect we’ll hear from Remy at some point. I can’t imagine how impatient she is about all this, but I understand the stakes. People are in danger.’
Hella nodded seriously. ‘I bet she’s at the store right now, waiting to hear from me in a few hours and be told I’ve mastered everything and somehow know where the angels are.’ Hella rolled her eyes, but Tommy could see the tension in the set of her shoulders. She was so new. So much pressure for a prophecy. The promised witch was, after all, just a girl. She didn’t know what to do.
‘Hey, we’ll figure it out.’ Tommy rose from the edge of her bed. ‘One thing at a time. I’m sure Remy’s fine. She’s probably got her nose in a book, or she’s with her coven or something.’
Hella turned to face him. ‘Thanks,’ she said.
Tommy put a hand on her shoulder. ‘Are you okay? Everything that’s going on, you must be…’ He trailed off, not willing to tell her how she should be feeling.
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