Brighid's Fallen (Keepers of the Flame Book 5)

by Cate Morgan

  He nodded. “How they take their tea, how many kids he has to take to football practice, do they get on with their in-laws--that sort of thing. You come up with whole scenarios about their life, about why they’re the way they are.”

  “And then you…”

  He shrugged. “In an instant, the stories just...stop. And you try not to think about it, after. Except maybe as a book you once read.”

  She’d hadn’t thought she’d have been able to do the same, were she in his shoes. She’d felt sorry for him, what that sacrifice to his soul must of have cost so that innocent people might not be hurt. In the hopes that the order was a good one.

  And now here she was, a creature bred for sacrifice. Willing sacrifice. Made to die and Ascend, again and again. Until the final conflict decided all. Until it was enough.

  She’d always known her days were numbered and as carefully catalogued as one of Brendan’s excavations. Still, she couldn’t help wishing she had just a few more. It would have been nice, she mused, to have at least a little time to explore this thing with Alex. To experience just a bit of normalcy before…

  Before and after. That’s what it came down to, in the end. Until there were no more afters.

  Still, it hardly mattered what she wanted, did it? Just like her sniper, things got so much simpler when one took oneself out of the equation. Proper perspective was such a tenuous thing, when you were the personification of a finely honed weapon built for a very specific purpose.

  There was that word again: purpose.

  Sounds began to seep through their muted footfalls, the dust-masked echoes of their progress. After awhile, Alex’s warm, dry hand slipped into hers. She looked over her shoulder, and he gave her a grim nod.

  Finally they reached a blasted, almost archway of rubble where a warm glow pulsed like the beat of a dragon’s heart. Rhythmic murmuring could be heard, though she couldn’t make out the words.

  “It’s begun,” Mairya whispered as they paused one last time. “Prepare yourselves.”

  “Wait.” Alex shifted his gaze from Cara to the Angel. “Let’s do the smart thing and scout ahead first.”

  Cara raised her eyebrows dubiously. “How?”

  Alex cleared his throat. “I’ll need to touch your blood,” he told Mairya.

  She looked amused. “I forge ahead, and you see through my eyes?” Without blinking, she unsheathed her sword and sliced her left palm. Cara winced as she squeezed her dripping blood over his waiting fingers.

  Alex closed his eyes and nodded. “Got it--go ahead.”

  As she watched in interest, Mairya dissipated with the faint flutter of curtains in a summer breeze.

  “What do you see?” Cara asked softly, not certain if she should speak.

  “A vault,” he whispered back. “Andreas as it the end, where the room curves. Mairya’s moving along the border, in the shadows.”

  Cara tried to imagine it. “Then I should be able to do the same, by moving between. Theoretically.”

  “There’s a ward, with sulfur and salt. And...blood?” His nose wrinkled, brow furrowing. “I can smell it from here--that’s never happened before. It looks like the Summoning circle is inside.”

  “Andreas is between us and the circle?”

  He opened his eyes. “Mairya went up and to the left. If you head to the right, the two of you should be able to flank him.”

  “Right.” Cara rolled her shoulders, seeking to dislodge the tension bunching there like the interloper it was. “Let’s get this done.”

  Alex stopped her short, however. He framed her face and kissed her--softly, with just a hint of desperate need. The tension turned liquid, rolling down her spine like warm water before dissolving.

  Her eyes drifted open. “What as that for?” she asked, a little dazed.

  “Luck,” he said with a smile. Then he sobered. “You get out of this in one piece, Keeper. The world needs you.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Don’t lose it now, Keeper, Cara told herself as she flitted in and out of between along the far rim of Andreas’ perimeter, using the remains of ancient stone walls to further conceal her presence. People are counting on you.

  The world is counting on you.

  Nothing like a little pressure to get the blood pumping steadily along, like the gait of a high strung, but well-trained, racehorse.

  She had her eye on a spot at the opposite end of the vault, behind the stack of stone blocks being used as a makeshift altar where Michael’s sword lay. The stone was draped with red cloth, and the sword...was largely unremarkable.

  This didn’t surprise Cara overmuch. After all, a sword was a weapon--a tool. Too much gold filigree and gems would make the thing horribly inefficient, not to mention uncomfortable to wield. Even for an archangel, she supposed.

  She did notice the hilt, grip, and pommel were unfamiliar, exotic. But then she’d only ever seen Keeper swords, which hailed from another era and were meant to be wielded by women. Her own blade was a plain, wickedly lethal twenty-eight inches with a versatile hand-and-a-half grip and deep fuller.

  Michael’s sword hilt had a vaguely ancient Roman look to it, elaborate in its design if not materials. And the blade had to be a full forty inches, if it were a centimeter. Just how tall was the archangel?

  She supposed if he decided to keep the winged look, height didn’t much enter into it.

  Then she realized she was mentally babbling, and told herself to shut up. It was time to get on with business.

  She crouched behind a pile of rubble, and slowly let herself come out of between, so as not to disturb the air around her. She knew Mairya was nearby, but couldn’t sense her. For all she knew the angel was bemusedly watching over her shoulder.

  She laid her hands on the stones before her. They felt alive with energy, even through her gloves. She didn’t know if it was because they were virtually ancient, or if the buzzing in her palms was from the power Andreas was pulling in with the ritual he performed.

  “Ah, Alex.” Desmond’s rich, cultured tones were warm with affection--genuine, as far as Cara could tell. “I was wondering when you would arrive.”

  “You knew I was coming?” Alex’s voice was casual, but Cara detected wariness in the hushed growl.

  Andreas chuckled, a teacher amused by a favored pupil. “I figured it could only be a matter of time.”

  She heard Alex catch his breath, as though in startled pain. “What is...is this a demon catcher?”

  “One of my own devising, as I determined a normal one wouldn’t work on someone who is still largely human. With a soul, as it were.” A significant pause. “Turns out the blood you collected from Brendan’s crime scene came in handy after all. As did Johnson.”

  Cara was nearly sick on the spot, recalling the nice, if perpetually nervous, young man who had brought her clean clothes when she’d been too entrenched in grief to realize she’d been drenched in the blood of her best friend.

  Blood. The blood of the innocent. The man had actually--

  Cara just held herself back, anger burning through her veins like acid. Like the blood that had seeped from Brendan’s cooling corpse. She needed to focus, not give in to emotion.

  “You led me to believe my soul was gone. That I had only one chance for redemption.” Alex’s rigid control could be heard from here. “But it’s yours that’s truly lost. And it turns out I have no need to be redeemed.”

  “Such sentimentality. It’s almost as if you were human,” Desmond observed, with the jubilation of a man on the verge of obtaining his goal. “Besides, it isn’t your soul I need, dear boy, but your blood.”

  Of course. Angel blood. Demon blood. And human, the more pure the better.

  Cara closed her eyes and centered her breathing, slowed her heartbeat. Then she tickled that little flame deep within her higher, sent it reaching for the other fire she’d lit deep in the bowels of the catacombs. Slowly and surely, she began to fill with light.

  It was a slow draw, however.
Much slower than she was accustomed to, which she attributed to the Summoning. She took a deep breath and pushed harder against the boundaries in a steady exhale.

  “Where’s the girl?” Desmond asked pleasantly. “I know she’s here somewhere. Hiding, is she?”

  “Something like that,” Alex replied, in an equally easy tone. “Care to let me out? I’ll get her.”

  “No need. I’m sure she’ll make a properly dramatic entrance in due course.” Desmond’s tone hardened. “Now, if you don’t mind--

  Alex snarled. “Why take my blood? You managed to summon Lilith before, when you killed Brendan.”

  “Not quite.” Desmond’s voice grew closer as he bent to his work. “But I needed her strength if I was going to stop him finding the sword first. So I used Carrion demon blood from our stores instead. Not as fresh as I would like, but it did in a pinch.”

  A light, liquid patter on the stone floor nearby. It took everything Cara had not to flinch, to continue soaking up light from the Flame.

  “Your girl, now--her blood was most interesting.” Desmond moved around, his tone still friendly. “I’d like to make a deeper study of her should time permit, but I’m sad to say she probably won’t survive our encounter.”

  “You may find yourself surprised by what she’s capable of,” Alex replied, no longer pretending.

  “You might be right, but I really rather...doubt it.” The last two words changed with the priest’s demeanor, to one of puzzlement. “This is strange,” he added.

  Cara had all the light she could hold now, and was pouring it into the Summoning circle in a struggle of tight control. Her ears popped faintly as the power inside the circle became first diluted, then drowned altogether. It was still there, but only as a thin, flat layer at the bottom without resonance. She was essentially using displacement to push Lilith’s gathering hold on this world by pushing it back where it came from, like a backwards game of tug-of-war.

  Cara became light headed she made of herself a conduit, seeking to open herself completely to the Flame and let it pass through her in a focused tide. It was easier the less she resisted.

  The resistance she pushed against disappeared in a snap, and she fell forward. Her own power dissipated in response.

  A banshee shriek shook the room, making her cover her ears. Dust rained down, and one or two stone blocks tumbled from their precarious perches. She heard Desmond cry out, and Alex moan in pain.

  Cara fought for breath, swallowed. Had she done it? Had it been enough?

  “You’d best come out, girl,” the priest’s voice rang out, all pretense of civility gone. His tone was sharp, sibilance eerily elongated. Like a snake that could talk. It made her skin crawl.

  Something wasn’t right here. There was a deep sense of familiarity gone off-kilter, like deja vu. She pushed herself to place it, give it a name.

  “No!” Alex bit out. “Cara, get out of here!”

  “Now,” came the demand from the other side of the rubble. “Or I’ll rip his soul from his chest and give the demon free rein.”

  Brighid. She’s felt this way when in the presence of Brighid. The realization snapped her in place like a stretched rubber band retracting back into shape.

  She didn’t hesitate. She clambered over the rubble heap, scrambling for purchase as her heart thudded painfully.

  Her gaze found Alex, and knew instantly he was on the verge of turning. He’d been forced to his hands and knees, eyes gone flame-bright. Desmond stood over him, just outside the rim of the demon catcher scrawled on the vault ground, his hand stretched palm down over the boundary.

  “Do you have any idea what you’ve nearly done, you stupid child?” he spat. “You came within inches of cutting humanity off from their only possible salvation.”

  Cara tried to appear calm as she descended. Her gaze canted to the altar. Damn. Michael’s sword was still there. Where was Mairya?

  “I’m sorry, who’s the stupid one?” she drawled, hopping down the last few steps. “You summoned Lilith. Invited her.”

  “I made a deal,” Desmond said, actually hissing now. “If I give her the sword, she will save humanity. Thanks to me.”

  Cara was genuinely confused. “And you believed her? You do know what demons do, yes? I mean, being a priest and all.”

  Desmond paused, looking baffled himself. He appeared dazed, as though he’d been hit over the head and was now coming to terms with current events. His arm lowered and Alex sagged in response. His shirt was soaked in sweat. “Wait, what? That’s not...she said…”

  “What did you think was going to happen when you gave her the sword that’s supposed to end the apocalypse?” she pressed. “Tea and crumpets over the fiery pit?”

  Andreas’ expression morphed so quickly Cara knew she was no longer dealing with anything human. The priest was gone. She exhaled in a long, shaky breath.

  So this was how it was going to end. It was a bit of a relief to know.

  No more decisions to make. Only one path before her.

  “Hello, Lilith.”

  Alex fought like hell against the demon surging within him. The pain and struggle of keeping control hadn’t been this bad since he’d first been possessed. He dug his already bloody fingernails into the jagged stone floor, seeking desperate purchase to reality.

  He forced his head up, to see if she would heed his warning now the truth had been revealed. In a strange mixture of admiration and horror, he saw she was standing there between Desmond and Michael’s sword, calm as could be. Her expression, her eyes, reflected nothing.

  And continued to do so as she slowly unsheathed her blade.

  Despite his predicament he actually gaped. She was going to fight Lilith?

  Bloody hell. She was going to fight Lilith.

  Even though she’d barely survived her tussle with Mairya, who’d gone easy on her. Even in human form, Lilith was beyond powerful. Cara had to know that.

  Everything changed for him, in that moment. She had to be terrified, yet there was no hint of it in any part of her. No tremble in her hands, no dilation of pupils. Just an easy, confident defensive stance and sure knowledge she could not possibly win.

  And yet she stood.

  Lilith/Desmond laughed at the very idea. “Don’t be ridiculous, girl. I can kill you with the turn of an eyelash.”

  “Give me a little credit,” Cara returned. “It might at least take two turns. During which you will not so much as glance at that sword.”

  “Pointless,” Lilith sneered. “A waste. You can stand aside and let me take the prize. Or you can die and I’ll have the it anyway.”

  “Probably,” Cara said agreeably. “But I’ll die either way, in end. So if you don’t mind, I’ll do it standing on my feet. Doing what I was made to do.”

  He fell for her in that moment. Instantly and irrevocably.

  “Then stand and die, Keeper.” Desmond held his hand to one side, palm up. Gathering darkness swirled around his arm, until it formed a sword of shadow iron and dark flame. “Stand and sacrifice.”

  True panic settled into Alex’s bones, in his blood. She was going to die. And for what?

  He gritted his teeth. Like hell she was. The world needed her.

  It did not need him.

  The figures circled in a series of careful side-steps, eyeing one another. Cara with professional wariness, Lilith with open and mocking disdain. Cara’s blue-eyed gaze flickered once, and she lunged forward in a sudden flash.

  To her credit, Lilith looked a little taken aback by the abrupt maneuver. No doubt she’d assumed the Keeper would be on the defensive the entire time. But, no--Cara would go down fighting. The parry came almost too late.

  A little bubble of hope rose up in Alex. Perhaps, in human form and with an elderly man’s reflexes to contend with, Cara might actually stand a chance.

  The next flurry of blades popped it. Lilith would not be taken by surprise again. Now it was a fight for Cara’s life, and to the death.

  Th
e two figures moved back and forth through the vault, so fast the air snapped with the force of it. Alex noticed the demon catcher’s hold on him begin to lessen. He was still fighting against turning, but he was able to draw in a little air, ease the bunched knots in his muscles.

  So that was it. Cara was drawing Lilith’s attention away so he might escape. Before the All-Mother of demons took permanent possession of his internal demon, leaving no humanity left in him.

  Or he could stay, and fight. Give Cara the chance she needed.

  The room was beginning to shake in the wake of their fight. Cara was losing ground fast, but was miraculously holding her own. But only because Lilith was toying with her, savoring her triumph.

  The thing was, he’d seen Cara move even faster--so fast, she’d moved in and out of between like a flickering picture in thin air. Saw it himself as she’d battled Mairya through his apartment window and down into the rough street. Why wasn’t she pushing herself now?

  “Perhaps I should release him, Keeper,” Lilith purred. “And let him finish you. Let the demon inside take hold until he is lost forever.”

  “The demon is only a tenth of what he is,” Cara said, huffing for breath but not slowing. “And he accepted it in an act of sacrifice. But the demon is all you see, isn’t it?” She ducked a faster-than-light sword swipe, rolled and turned on her feet. “And that is why you will lose.”

  Lilith shrieked again, rocking the room like a ship rolling in a storm. More dust rained down, more stones toppled and shifted from their ancient places like awakening hermits.

  Cara let go then, burst forward in an assault of steel and determination that sought to end the match quickly and decisively.

  Then Alex saw why.

  Michael’s sword was gone.

  The trap was nearly gone now. He struggled forward, growling low in his throat. For once he and the demon were in tandem.

  Lilith had finally had enough. She swatted the sword from Cara’s hand with her blade, then grabbed her by the throat with her free hand. She lifted the Keeper easily, Cara’s boots dangling a foot from the ground as she fought for oxygen.