by A. J. Norris
“Ready? On three…one, two.”
CRUNCH.
Evita screamed, “Oh Deus!” What happened to three? Actually, she was grateful he hadn’t gone on three. Two was enough. She may have stopped him if he’d waited. Blood and tears mixed on the floor under her head. The initial pain ebbed into a dull ache then disappeared. Evita smiled giddily.
“Ready for the next step.” This wasn’t a question from Max and she had a feeling he wouldn’t wait for her to be ready. Virgil leaned over her. She still wore the spaghetti-strapped silky gown from the night before. Without warning, the Healer impaled her back with the points of the black horns. He drove them further inside so far she worried they’d come out through her chest. Her elbows collapsed and she fell onto her front, digging her nails into the carpet. She squeezed her eyelids shut.
Something within her moved or slid into place. Seeds had been planted. Soon wings would grow. Tears streamed down her face, although she smiled, overjoyed with getting her wings back. She wondered if they’d still be golden. Pressure built beneath her skin. Evita moaned, refusing to scream. Virgil chanted in Arcadian. His words faded as she drifted out of consciousness.
***
Virgil
Virgil lifted his mate from the floor. He carried her to the bedroom and laid her on the bed. Arranging her on the mattress, he carefully positioned the golden beauties. He wasn’t above skimming his hands over the feathers. Although they were the same color as before she fell, they lacked the luster they once had. He rubbed his fingers along his jawline. Come to think of it, Dahlia’s wings appeared tarnished somehow, darker, flatter in sheen. Evie’s weren’t discolored despite having been in Netherworld, but Dahlia’s were. Why? And what did this mean? Had they been this way all along and he hadn’t noticed?
Evie stirred and her feathers stood on end where he touched them then flattened. He regarded her face. The tension crease in her forehead vanished.
“Virgil?” she said with her eyes closed.
“Hmm?”
“I wanted to make sure you were there.”
“Where else would I be?” Could it be that she remembered him? He smiled.
“I’m afraid to look at them. Are my wings…?”
“They are golden.”
She glanced over her shoulder. “Oh, a little dull but I can deal with that.”
“I’m sure they’ll be shiny soon.” A spear of jealousy stabbed his gut. “Did…Abaddon, uh…”
“Did Abaddon what?”
Virgil couldn’t bring himself to say the word. A lousy four letter word with implications and consequences he didn’t want to think about. Ever.
“Did he,” his voice cracked, “k-kiss—”
“Oh, yes, slobbered all over me. Inside and out.” He surged forward and knelt beside her next to the bed. He looked her over with a hand poised above her. Evie giggled. “He didn’t kiss me, and actually the only time he touched me was when he drove my horns, wings, whatever into my head, and even then, he didn’t really. Some animal headed demons removed my wings.”
Virgil exhaled. Thank Deus. “So you’re not Tainted?”
“No. It’s funny though, at the time I didn’t understand why Aba never went near me. Huh? I guess mating wards never die.”
“So it seems.” There were no words to describe how grateful he was at the moment.
Evita sat up on the end of the bed and patted the space on her left. Virgil sat. “We have to get to the amulet.”
Virgil groaned and threw a sideways glance at her. “Evie, this is a perilous task.”
“It’s our duty. Amulets must be found and destroyed regardless of the costs to us. Humans will perish if we don’t. Earth would become a demon’s playground.”
Rubbing his brow, he sighed. “I know. It doesn’t have to be you…or me. Amalya—”
“She’s pregnant. You can’t be serious.”
“Elliott…”
“Elliott has his hands full and I’m the only one who knows where it is.”
He wasn’t winning this argument. “Fine. Can we at least employ some help?”
“Anyone but Dahlia.”
“Not even a consideration. Why would you suggest such a thing?”
She shrugged.
“No. What?”
“It’s just in the kitchen when she said you were never truly mine, you didn’t refute it.”
“You believed her?”
“I don’t know you, remember?”
“Evie, my love, she’s trying to get inside your head.”
“Well, it’s working.”
He placed his hand on his knee, palm up. She laid her hand on his.
“Have you ever told Dahlia you craved her?”
Virgil looked at the ceiling. “No. Not in that context. I told her about how I still craved you even after the first hundred and fifty years you were gone from my life. She said I spoke to you in my sleep. I can only guess that is how she knew.”
“Lucky guess. So you went to her for comfort?”
“Unfortunately. I was aware of other males she had entanglements with, so I erroneously believed she wasn’t interested in mating with anyone. And I was safe from causing her emotional distress should our involvement end. I’m a fool.” His voice caught. “I should’ve waited longer for your return. Will you ever be able to forgive me?”
Evie smiled. “I probably should be angry.”
He nodded. “Every part of my soul, mind, body, and spirit missed you.”
“I believe you. Somehow I know you speak the truth. When was the last time you saw her?”
“The night I was captured by Abaddon. I told her I didn’t want to see her anymore, though.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t understand. If you ended things why does she think you should still be together?”
“I fear she isn’t of sound mind. Her wings—”
Evie breathed deeply. “Their color is off.”
“This is worrisome.”
“Agreed.” She leaned into him and kissed his cheek.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Dahlia
Perched atop the tallest building in Detroit, Dahlia tilted her head back and screamed. Female angels couldn’t yell as loudly as males, so her voice wouldn’t carry the whole seven hundred twenty-seven feet down to the street. She didn’t care; it felt wonderful anyway.
Evita had returned from Netherworld and claimed her mate. Virgil even held Dahlia while his horned female punched her in the nose.
“He’s mine!”
She flew down from the top of the adjacent glass elevator housing onto the circular roof, cursing under her breath while she paced. Her mind conjured up all sorts of wicked ways to get even with her Warrior sister. The problem was that Evie, Virgil, and his friends posed a threat to any plan. Perhaps an old lover could help? The fallen angel was an arrogant bastard. However, she knew about his fetish with his dark amulets. And Evie had told her about one she’d hidden before she fell. She didn’t tell her where but that little detail was inconsequential. Evie would go after it like a good little perfect angel.
“Abaddon!” she yelled. Nothing happened. “Abaddon, you—”
“You rang?” the beast drawled. He stood behind her with his arms folded over his chest.
“You came.” Dahlia slinked toward him, making sure she displayed her cleavage.
He snorted and gawked at her breasts. “What do you want? I’m busy.”
“Yeah, I can see that,” she said. “I have a proposition for you.”
“Not interested. You had your chance, remember?”
“Not that.” She tucked her chin. “Are you still obsessed with those sigils?”
His only response was to narrow his eyes.
“Evie has one and I can help you get it back. With your help, of course.”
The beast glared at her. “Why would you to do that? What’s in it for you?”
She smiled. “I guess you don’t want it back? I’ll be going then.”
; “Wait,” Aba growled. “I’ll get you some help. Don’t think I’m stupid though. What did Evie do to you?”
“What makes you think she did anything?”
Abaddon chuckled low in the back of his throat. “What’s the matter, were you banging her mate and now you’re pissed off he doesn’t want you anymore?”
Dahlia spun around and glowered. “How did she escape Netherworld, huh?”
Shrugging a shoulder, he curled his upper lip and said, “I let her go.”
“You already knew about the amu—”
“Did you think I didn’t know?” he said, cocking his head to the side. “Go to Berus, he could no doubt use your help, and obviously you need help with whatever. I don’t care. But he’s the strongest demon I know. And the smartest. Don’t tell him I said that. When you get the amulet, give it to him and the angel.”
“Berus?” Dahlia looked confused. “Doesn’t he have the head of a bull?”
“Find him!”
Dahlia wiped his spit from her face, undaunted by the Demon. She examined her hand, wondering how his venom would affect her. She brought her fingers up to her mouth. As her tongue grazed her index finger he grabbed her hand. His sapphire eyes faded. “Perhaps a kiss would be better.” Aba licked his lips, took her jaw between his claws, pulling her onto her tiptoes. He smashed his lips to hers and she didn’t resist when he pushed his black tongue into her mouth.
When it was over, one of her feathers fluttered to the rooftop. She sniffed and looked away quickly. Aba grinned wide, revealing long yellowed fangs. Dahlia tamped down her need to cringe, instead pressed her lips together. She’d just kissed that mouth.
Dahlia stepped back from Aba and walked closer to the side of the building. She looked sideways at him one last time before she swan-dived off the building. Her wings snapped open and she glided on an air current. Since it was still early morning she dropped down onto the roof of Eternity instead of going inside. Concentrating on Berus worked better while not moving around. She closed her eyes and pictured the bull demon. Did he have an animal head? He couldn’t if he was on Earth.
The weightlessness associated with teleporting made her giggle as her stomach bottomed out. When the temperature changed, she opened her eyes inside an apartment. A woman in hospital scrubs screamed and dropped a mug on the tiled kitchen floor.
“Please, human, you let me in,” Dahlia told her, erasing her memory with the wave of a hand. “Your mug accidently slipped from your hand.”
The woman frowned and glanced at the floor. “Oh, gosh, I’m so clumsy. Did I get any coffee on you?”
“I stopped by…remember, looking for Berus. You said he was here,” Dahlia said.
“I did? Oh, yes, I did.” She smiled and tapped the top of her head. “Are you the wife?”
“Excuse me?”
“Are you the wife? Look, my roommate hooks up with a lot of married men, you’re not the first. Don’t take it personally.”
“I won’t. Believe me.”
“Lilyana!” the woman yelled. Dahlia looked at the ceiling and shook her head. Another woman wrapped in a towel came down the hallway. “This chick’s looking for her husband.”
Dahlia snorted.
“I don’t have a man here,” Lilyana said, crossing her arms.
A blatant lie, otherwise Dahlia wouldn’t have teleported inside the apartment. “Oh please. I know you don’t have a man here. What’s the demon look like anyway?” She headed down the hall toward the bedroom.
Lilyana caught up to her and hissed, “Who are you?”
Dahlia slammed the door open so hard the knob lodged into the drywall. The shower was running in the bathroom. “Berus!”
***
Berus
The demon heard his name, and the voice didn’t belong to Lilyana. Berus knew this because the sound didn’t want to make him drive a knife into his ear. He cranked the water off as the door flew open. Unimpressed with the Warrior angel standing on the threshold, he leaned over and grabbed a towel from the rack. He dried off while she stared at him gape-mouthed. He braced himself for the amount of energy he was about to expend while speaking. She hadn’t attacked so she wanted to talk. Berus stepped over the lip of the tub.
“You’re Berus?” she asked.
He jerked his chin.
“I hear you’re looking for an angel and one of those stupid necklaces.”
The demon wanted to tell her to fuck off. However, she could be useful. He rubbed the towel over the strip of hair down the middle of his head. Stubble had started growing in on the sides. Lilyana called it a Mohawk. Although, admittedly he liked the style Abaddon had given him, he would have preferred something less conspicuous.
He’d spent some time talking to himself in the mirror. He learned two things that helped curb his stutter; talking slower, avoiding certain words, and humming before he spoke. Berus hummed, buzzing his lips.
“Mmmmm…Abaddon sent you?”
“He asked me to help you.”
Berus squinted at her. Since when did angels aid demons? “Wh-why?”
“None of your business.”
“Don’t help me.” There, the humming worked miracles. He almost smiled. She moved when he stepped closer to her. He draped the towel over his shoulder on the way into the bedroom. The angel followed him. While he dressed, she stared at him. He sat on the bed and laced his boots. He shook his open palms in a “what” motion. She hadn’t budged from her position against the wall.
“What would happen if your master found out you refused my help?” she asked.
The answer was simple: He didn’t care. However, she could be beneficial in getting close to Evita. This Warrior wasn’t fooling him. She wanted revenge on the angel, which was puzzling. “Mmmm…whhhy or…you can’t help.”
She sneered. “Why are you humming like that?”
He glowered.
“Fine,” she sighed, “it doesn’t matter if I tell you or not. Evita stole my male.”
Berus snorted.
“I don’t know why you’re laughing. I want him back. He’s mine!”
“You want revenge.”
“No I don’t.” Her tone softened. “Angels don’t seek revenge. The concept is unthinkable to us.”
He raised one eyebrow. Berus himself didn’t see the purpose in revenge or holding grudges. The demon ideology was kill only if necessary, not to get even with someone or for personal gain. Netherworld natives lived cooperatively, not in competition with one another.
He hadn’t noticed Lilyana in the room until she tsked. “Sounds like revenge to me.”
The angel whipped around, grabbed Lilyana by the throat and shoved her up against a wall. Berus made no attempt to rescue her although he held Lilyana’s gaze.
“Demon…help,” she eked, barely above a whisper, her hands clutching the angel’s.
Ah, Hell…He shook his head, feeling something he hated to admit. Empathy. Bull demons had more strength than the average male angel and he hip checked her, catching her off guard. Lilyana hit the floor with her knees, gasping for breath. Dahlia lost her balance and staggered into an adjacent wall. She was still mightier though, and would come back at him. Berus crouched into a fighting stance, growling low and deep.
“You can call me Dahlia,” the Warrior said. She straightened her dress and smoothed her hair. “I’m not going to fight you.”
Berus relaxed his posture. Evidently, the angel needed his help and was willing to make a deal with a demon. It was insanity and he didn’t trust her.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE
Evita
Evita agreed to visit the two places that scared her the most, starting with where she fell to Earth and wound up in Netherworld. She stared up at the sky. The stars lit up the night with a bazillion bright points, some reddish, some bluish. Humans looked at the universe differently, through a telescope. Oh, how they would envy angels. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and bathed in the light.
Twenty paces to her left, the shallow depression where she landed remained. The cracks had been filled in and grass had overgrown the area, but she remembered the spot well. How could she forget? A tear slid down her cheek. She didn’t know Virgil anymore.
He stroked his beard while he waited patiently. Evita stood frozen to the ground, taking quick, shallow breaths. Her shoulders caved in as she folded her arms over her chest.
“This is silly. How is this going to help me?” she asked. “Were you even there when I fell?”
“No. I thought perhaps retracing what occurred would help.”
Evita smoothed her hair and wiped the tears under her eyes.
“Never mind, this was a bad—”
“No. I should try.”
For you.
She squared her shoulders and moved forward. No time to be a coward now. She squatted in the hole then let her knees meet the ground. Abaddon’s voice surfaced in her mind. He’d laughed, looking down upon her broken body. “The mighty has fallen. Evita the Warrior. Glad you decided to join me,” the Ruler had said. He was angry with her for the role she’d played in his defeat during his 1556 fight with Deus. She hadn’t joined him then and never had willingly.
Elliott had had issues ever since Jeremiah had been born. At the time, Evita hadn’t learned the Sacred child’s name. The only bequest the parents were given was the right to name their offspring. She thought her Warrior sister pretended not to be affected by her son being taken even if it was for a higher purpose. Later, Evita learned she wasn’t pretending. Elliott, however, bordered on depression and despair for centuries.
A white-haired angel shot past her, wings fluttering behind him. He wasn’t flying or even coasting. This was a freefall. She tensed and her heart pounded. A split-second lapsed before she realized the male was Elliott the Redeemer. No! She’d witnessed the birth of Jeremiah. The look on Elliott’s face when he said goodbye to his son left a mark on her conscience.
Elliott plummeted past the Redeemer towers, heading for the portal to Earth. She needed to save him. Evita dove after him, pulling her wings in tightly to her body. The force of the wind plastered her hair to her scalp. Her eyes watered.
