by Cole, Tillie
Noa moved beside Dinah, and Dinah winked at her sisters as they fell into formation behind her. Gabriel frowned in suspicion. Diel couldn’t keep still, rocking back and forth on his feet as he watched the Coven create a cluster.
Dinah flicked her chin at the Fallen. “Again.”
The men needed no indication from Gabriel this time. They charged forward, seven fighters with individual agendas. The Coven held form. They didn’t move, the years of training instinctively slipping into effect. Bara hit them first. Dinah spun out of his way and swept Uriel’s feet from beneath him as he followed his best friend. Noa took Bara down with a fist to his stomach. As Bara hit the ground, Candace kicked him until his breath became a high-pitched wheeze.
Dinah slid from Uriel to take on Raphael. Noa swerved, trusting without ever looking back that Jo would be there, taking the large blond on. Noa stayed close to Dinah; Dinah knocked the wind from Michael with an elbow to his chest, then spun to face Gabriel. Michael stumbled into Beth’s path, fangs bared, and the timid brunette swiped his legs and landed a punch to his muscled stomach, nothing meek in the way she fought the pseudo-vampire. Naomi lashed and kicked and kept Uriel and Bara on the ground, thoroughly incapacitated.
Then Diel stormed at Noa. He grabbed her shoulders, as if to tumble her to the ground, but Noa sliced her arms up, releasing herself from his grip. Jo and Candace appeared at her side and slammed Diel to the ground, knocking the wind from him enough that he had to fight for breath to even stand. The minute he did, Naomi landed a kick to his back, and Diel hit the ground beside Sela.
Noa turned around, and her sisters slotted back into formation. Dinah stood in front of them, the head of their targeted arrow. Gabriel was spread on the ground too, wonder and awe in his eyes. The rest of the Fallen were livid as they dragged themselves to their feet with fury in their killer stares.
“Fuck your weapons,” Dinah said, from the front of the Coven’s cluster. “We saw the Brethren train endlessly when we were imprisoned. We saw how they fought from the small, barred window in our dorm that gave us a view of their training field.” Noa felt the memories of those days stir inside of her. The sight of Auguste training his Witch Finders with military precision. Dinah and her sisters had initially watched them as a way to pass the time, then in more and more detail as the Coven grew older. They studied their every move. Priscilla, Noa and Dinah wanted to know how they moved … they wanted to know how they could be defeated.
That knowledge had saved them.
It had freed them.
“They find modern weaponry sinful, unjust … cowardly.” Dinah leveled a pointed stare at Bara. “They fight with fists and knives, and shun guns of any kind. They believe God will protect them, His chosen people.” The Fallen were on their feet now. Each of them hung off every word that Dinah said. “If we go into their nest, if we attempt to take them down, if they manage to rob us of our weapons we must be able to fight them with the same strength and efficiency that they will unleash on us.”
Dinah walked right up to Bara. “Your flame thrower won’t save you against them.” She moved to Uriel. “You are stronger than us, bigger physically than us, and you can defeat us one on one. But”—she stopped before Sela—“the Brethren don’t fight as individuals. They are one.” She stopped before Raphael, then Michael, and lastly she halted in front of Gabriel.
“We are few, but if we can merge into one unstoppable unit, always knowing, trusting that someone has your back behind you, we can maybe, maybe, defeat them in small numbers. Chip away at them, one surprise attack at a time.” Dinah took her place again with her sisters. “Those bastards hurt us. Abused us. Tortured us. Did unspeakable things to all of us in this room.” Noa felt the hatred for the Brethren pulsing from the Fallen just as much as it pulsed off the Coven.
“The world doesn’t know they exist. It would never believe they are real even if we shouted their crimes from the top of the John Hancock Tower. Who could possibly believe such a thing is happening in the dark underground of the real world?” Dinah pointed at each of the gathered people. “It’s up to us. It can only be up to us to take them down.”
She folded her arms across her chest, her incredible inner strength evident to all. “There’s no room for pride, vanity or arrogance in this war. If we do this, if we take them on, we must be ready. Be humble to the mammoth task before us. We must be better than they are, in every conceivable way.”
Silence grew heavy in the gym. “How did you escape?” Gabriel asked, voice careful and tender. “How did you successfully run away from their clutches?” Diel’s head twitched as he watched Noa. Noa breathed. She needed their two groups to work, to become one. The Fallen were the only people the Coven knew who could tear the Brethren down alongside them.
And the pretender priests had to be brought down.
“We practiced,” Dinah said. “At night. When they left us alone. We trained. We grew strong even when they hurt us to the point of exhaustion. Priscilla …” Dinah trailed off at their elder sister’s name.
“She was the one who pushed us,” Candace said, picking up where Dinah had left off.
“Priscilla hated the Brethren most of all.” Jo shook her head. “No, that isn’t true. We all hate them, with every fiber of our being. But Priscilla was different.” Jo cast a quick glance at Noa.
Noa held her chin up. “The same darkness that flows in your veins,” Noa said to the Fallen, “exists in me, but it thrives in Priscilla. She fosters it, cherishes it … relishes it.” Noa fisted her hands just to stop them shaking. “Priscilla fought back against the Witch Finders the most. Against Auguste.” Noa’s jaw tightened as her eyes briefly drifted to Sela, Auguste’s brother, who looked so much like him that it was as if he was with them in the gym. “He hated her. Loathed her. Wanted to break her. So they hurt her the most, made her pay for her insolence. They tortured us all … but Priscilla …” Noa’s voice cut out when rage threatened to burst from her.
“They put her through hell,” Beth said. Noa closed her eyes, and she could hear Priscilla screaming, hear her cursing the Brethren in her family’s ancient tongue, casting curse upon curse on them as they tied to her to a stake and burned her, as they drowned her, hands tied behind her back, as they hanged her, only releasing the noose when her body began to shut down as death bit at her heels. “They didn’t break her. Even after all of it … she didn’t break.” Beth’s eyes glistened. Naomi nodded in silent agreement of how hard it had been to see Priscilla torn apart in such brutal, barbaric ways. Noa recalled the strength, the sheer will that Priscilla kept tight hold of, even when each of her fingers were broken, when she was half dead, barely breathing.
“So we trained,” Dinah said, picking the story back up. “We trained until we were one, just as the Witch Finders became each day on that training field. And then we waited. Sitting tightly in patience for months and months. We waited and waited, until the day Auguste was pulled away from our quarters, some kind of emergency in the city, leaving only a few of his men behind to guard us.”
Dinah nodded to herself. “Patience. We had to learn patience at such a young age. We endured their torture, fought to keep up our strength, and waited until the perfect moment to strike arose. We knew we only had one shot.”
“I taught myself how to pick locks,” Noa said. Gabriel closed his eyes and nodded, clearly tying Noa’s theft of the collar’s key and her past together.
“Priscilla made us weapons, slices of metal that we sharpened on the walls of the dorm to work as makeshift knives,” Candace said.
“And then we attacked,” Jo said. Noa could still feel that day like it was yesterday—the door they were trapped behind opening under Noa’s quick hand, Priscilla leading them like a Valkyrie from their dorm and into the hallway. They had never been outside of their dorm unescorted. But Priscilla had glanced back at Noa, and Noa, freedom coursing through her veins, had smiled.
Darkness to darkness. Like magnets.
Noa saw the
guards rushing toward them. They fell into formation, just as they had seen the Witch Finders do so many times, as the Coven had practiced deep in the night. Noa still remembered the looks on their captors’ faces as they saw their prisoners, the so-called sinful witches, heretics, poised to fight—organized, ready … lethal.
The sisters were young, starved and frail, but the thought of freedom gave them ungodly strength; the need to taste fresh air and gain liberation made them an unstoppable force.
And so they fought. Priscilla and Noa killed. It was the first time Noa had ever taken a life, and Noa remembered the first spatter of blood that had kissed her cheek. It was warm and wet and smelled of rich copper.
It felt like sweet revenge.
In that moment, Noa felt something inside of her awaken, a monster stirring from a century-long sleep. She and Priscilla didn’t stop until every Witch Finder was dead. Their sisters fought too, fists and kicks, but their eyes were wide as Noa and Priscilla basked in the Brethren deaths, as they felt the blood on their skin, as luxurious as lying on a silken sheet.
“And then we fled,” Dinah said. Noa sank back into the present. But the buzz of those kills still stirred within her. She felt someone watching her. When she sought out who, she found Diel with a knowing smile on his face—he was just as bloodthirsty as her.
Her pretty, pretty monster.
“We ran,” Jo said. “We ran for weeks, stealing food and sleeping rough. Never stopping in case they found us and dragged us back.” She shook her head. “We didn’t know the outside world. We didn’t know Boston. We were too young when we were taken to remember any of it.”
Dinah pressed into Noa’s side. “But Noa remembered a place that we could lay low. And when we eventually found it, there we stayed until we discovered the War of Independence tunnels.”
“Then our real mission began,” Noa said, making sure the Fallen were listening. “We started taking them down. One by fucking one. We learned how to hack, be stealthy, how to survive alone and never need any outside help. We disappeared. Then we stole from them, from anyone who aligned themselves with the Brethren for protection—big businessmen aiding the priests and their fucked-up beliefs.” Noa’s lip curled in disgust. “We drained their bank accounts. Exposed them to the authorities. And the priests … we took their so-called ‘sinful charges’ from them. All anonymously. Right from under their noses. Then—” A pain as heavy as a fist plowed into Noa’s stomach. The boy’s face came to her mind. It was always the boy’s face …
“Now we’re here,” Beth said, placing a calming hand discreetly on Noa’s shoulder in silent support.
Dinah stepped forward to face the brothers. “You’re skilled fighters. And you have no remorse about killing. You are savage and brutal. But we need to train.” Dinah pointed her thumb over her shoulder at the Coven. “We need you to fight alongside us as seamlessly as we do ourselves.” Dinah swallowed hard, allowing a sliver of vulnerability, of desperation, to sneak through her heavily guarded façade.
As Noa half listened to her sister, the pain in her stomach remained. The guilt, the shame of that night. The night everything changed for her. The night that caused Priscilla to leave and Noa to curb part of who she was.
She knew Diel was watching her again; she could feel his heavy blue stare on her like a spotlight. When she looked up, his eyebrows were drawn down, and real worry for her was etched on his handsome face. But her eyes fell to the scar around his neck. And she felt a lump form in her throat.
Diel broke away from his brothers, his action plunging the room into silence. He ignored it, focus myopic as he stepped forward until he was right in front of Noa. He searched her face, then put his callused hands on her cheeks, a question in his expression—what’s wrong?
Noa closed her eyes. The impact of this affection, this foreign feeling of warmth that Diel inspired in her, was all-consuming. She lifted her hands and placed them around his wrists. As he met his eyes, she whispered, “You all need to train with us. We need to take the Brethren down together. Drop the egos. That will never defeat them.”
Diel lowered his forehead to hers. His silence screamed at her that he knew there was something else going on inside her brain. Something else that haunted her. Something else that had changed her irreparably.
The Coven’s soul-gutting confession hung in the air, then …
“Over to you, head witch.”
Noa turned her head in shock, as Bara, the most disagreeable, most disturbed, and most devil-tainted member of the Fallen, offered Dinah his support. He spread his arms. “Make us unstoppable so we can get to one of those Brethren meetings and kill those cunts with our bare fucking hands.” His eyebrows danced. “They fucked with the wrong motherfuckers.”
Bara’s wide smile was cold and vicious, and Noa decided, after believing the redheaded brother was a total prick, that maybe, just maybe, he might grow on her after all.
Chapter 15
They were dripping with sweat, hands on hips and heads bent to their knees as they fought for breath. Every single part of Noa ached, but she lived for this feeling—the pain, the dull throbbing of her exhausted muscles, the heat of her blood rushing through her body, trying to repair every fiber that had been torn.
“Same time tomorrow,” Dinah said, and the Fallen began to leave the gym. Noa glanced at her sisters. They were standing together in a loose circle, waiting for her. She had to speak to them. She had to explain what the hell was happening with Diel, with her.
A pair of boots stopped before her. She lifted her head; her gaze tracked over muscular thighs, a tight torso and chest filled with a scattered painting of scars and tattoos and sweat—sheer fucked-up perfection.
Diel’s eyes were wild, his body hyped from the exercise, from the fight, from the way Dinah had taught them—drills, formations. The Fallen had slotted in among their ranks like they had always been there, a phalanx of witches and Fallen angels sharing one solitary goal—the complete destruction of the Brethren.
Diel’s hair was mussed, his cheeks flushed. He looked as though they’d just fucked. From the flare of his eyes and the parting of his lips as he regarded her, Noa imagined she looked the same.
Dinah cleared her throat. Noa rolled her eyes at her sister’s not so subtle attention grab. “I need to speak to my sisters,” she said to Diel.
Diel’s nostrils flared, and Noa caught the flash of his monster’s fiery spirit as the words left her lips. How pissed that had made him. He stepped closer, and her thighs squeezed together at the addictive scent of him. A drop of sweat rolled down his pecs and tumbled over the Fallen brand that had been seared into his skin.
“No. You’re coming with me,” he rasped, his voice brooking no argument.
Noa stepped closer to him, so close that her breasts pressed against his solid abdominals. Diel’s chest rose and fell in rapid motions. Noa bent her head and licked the falling drop of sweat, then moved her hand to his crotch, tightening her grip over his hardening cock. Diel grunted, fire exploding in his pupils, but he didn’t back away. His teeth gritted together as he subtly pushed against her hand.
Noa tamped down the heat that built in her body, the need that almost made her abandon her sisters and let Diel fuck her against the wall of the gym. She bit his chest. He hissed, but she could see his love for that sting of pain in the way his body jerked, the way his cock swelled further in her hand. “I’ll come to you when I’m finished,” she said. With a final squeeze of his dick, she let him go, pushing him back with a smirk on her face.
Diel was like a bull, primed and ready to charge as she backed away, and she the red cloth that taunted him, daring him to come and destroy her. Her veins buzzed as she read the promise on his face. That she would pay for not doing what he wanted. Noa’s lip hooked up in dark amusement. Diel would learn very quickly that no one told Noa what to do. No one controlled her, would ever control her again.
“Soon, pretty monster,” she said, a saccharine-sweet tone in her voice
as she threw him a small wave like she was the fucking Queen of England.
Diel’s muscles twitched, and a cold smile pulled on his lips. But then Sela was beside him, his long hair sticky with sweat. “Come on, brother.”
Diel’s eyes narrowed on Noa, then, as he backed away, he pointed at her, a wordless promise that when they met later, she would pay for not going with him.
It only made her smile.
As Diel left the gym, Noa turned to her sisters. Naomi and Beth were watching her with wide eyes. Jo and Candace looked amused, but Dinah … Dinah was studying her. She was dissecting her.
Candace was the first to move, heading out of the gym with Jo’s hand in hers. “Let’s get back to the house before the lectures start, okay?”
Noa huffed a laugh and followed her sisters to the tunnel that connected the manor to the housekeeper’s home. They walked through the underground passage in silence, then gathered around the table in the kitchen of their new home.
Candace and Jo sat up on the countertops. Naomi and Beth pulled out the chairs around the table. Noa sat opposite them, and Dinah stood near the sink. Dinah sighed. “What happened?”
Noa raised an eyebrow at the vague question. She traced her finger over the tabletop. “I fucked him. Many times.”
The silence beat like a heart in the kitchen. Dinah crossed the room to place her palms on the tabletop. “Oh, we gathered that, Noa,” she said, a tint of humor coloring her voice. “But I’m not talking about the fucking. I’m talking about stealing from Gabriel. The secret plan to meet Diel, and the fact that you released him from the collar without anyone there for protection. And you didn’t even tell us about your plans. You put yourself in danger.”
