by Elise Marion
“No!” she screamed, already moving in his direction.
It felt as if her feet couldn’t move fast enough as she leapt over broken bits of furniture and a few fallen bodies. Jack slid over the edge, then halted, one arm gripping the side of the pit. Attempting to pull himself up, he winced and grunted, clearly injured. Unable to keep his grip, he slid a bit further, only his fingertips keeping him from plunging.
Leaping into the air, she did the one thing she had been terrified to do until this very moment. But not doing it meant Jack would die. Again.
Crying out at the pain exploding in her back, she released her wings, stunned that they made an appearance on the first try.
Jack tilted his head and met her gaze as she hurtled toward him, praying that once they went down, she could bring him back up. She tried to pull on him with telepathy in a last-ditch effort to avoid going down into the hole, but found her energy blocked by some invisible force. As if Abaddon’s power over the pit superseded hers, preventing it from working.
She had nothing to rely on but her own strength—of both her body and will.
His eyes were wide, his voice trembling as he fought to hold on. “Addie,” he whispered, his tone hoarse, just before his arm gave way.
He plummeted.
She followed, folding her wings back and allowing herself to follow. Darkness swallowed them, but she pulled on her inner light—the one thing this pit couldn’t take from her—allowing the white glow to surround her. She could see him, falling, falling, so fast she could hardly keep up.
“No, damn it,” she growled, rolling her shoulders and giving her wings a flutter.
They propelled her faster, the air shifting around her and allowing her to get closer. He reached up toward her with his good arm, stretching and straining as if to help close as many inches between them as possible.
She extended an arm down to him and tried again, beating her wings with as much strength as she could. For a second, their fingers brushed, but it still wasn’t enough for her to grip him, so he kept falling.
With a cry of rage and uninhibited terror, she tried one more time, something telling her that the end was coming fast. This pit had to have a bottom, and he would never survive such a fall.
This time, his hand clenched around hers, holding tight. Her teeth rattled as she tried to pull up, the momentum and weight of Jack’s falling body causing her to jerk downward a bit.
But then, they were ascending again, her wings moving—it seemed—of their own will. Jack groaned, cursing under his breath, and she realized that his arm had to be broken. The odd angle of it told her it must be painful as hell.
“Almost there,” she told him as the light from above began to shine again.
Finally, they burst up through the opening, finding that the fighting had resumed, with Micah, Addison, and Drew attacking Abaddon, while the other Nephilim continued doing battle with the demons.
Landing on the edge of the pit, she set Jack on his feet. With a groan, he fell to his knees, his good arm cradling the injured one against his chest. She knelt beside him, pulling her wings back into her body with a loud ‘whoosh.’
“Jack, are you okay?” she cried, reaching out to touch his face.
Blood trickled from a gash in his temple, and he looked a bit gray, his mouth tight and pinched.
“I’m fine,” he managed form between ragged breaths. “Get back in there and finish this. I’m going to go check on Derek. Maybe he read a medical book once, and can do something about my arm.”
Seeming to notice the worry in her expression, he frowned. “Go! I’ll be fine.”
Nodding, she rose to her feet and began running back toward the fray. She only glanced back once to ensure Jack was making a clean getaway, before turning back to the demon who had almost killed him. She had eyes only for Abaddon as she leapt, her wings unfurling once more.
The big demon had his back turned to her, fighting off attacks from Micah, Alice, and Drew. She took him by surprise, coming at him with all the rage boiling in her gut.
It fueled her strength as she slammed into him, throwing him clear across the room. The others scrambled to get out of the way, but she couldn’t stop to make sure no one had gotten hurt when he crashed into one of the balconies and dropped to the floor.
She couldn’t afford to hesitate for a moment. Reaching out, she grasped him by two of his four massive horns, grunting as she lifted and spun, throwing him back toward the pit he had created. With a roar, he went down into the darkness. Getting a running start, she followed, leaping down after him. This time, calling on the light was harder due to her anger over what had been done to Jack, but she managed to pull it to the surface and force it to grow.
By the time her body connected with Abaddon’s, it was emanating from her like a star, blinding her and causing the demon to howl and attempt to shield his eyes. Clasping the ring, she fused her power with it and threw it outward on waves of light. It tore through Abaddon with a force that threw her back upward so fast and so far that she shot back up out of the pit and landed on the ground, splattered with his blood.
The impact knocked the wind from her so completely that at first, all she could do was lie there. A persistent ringing sound plagued her, making it hard to hear anything. Then, it began to clear, and the sounds of battle continued around her.
“Don’t just stand there, go after ’em!” Micah’s voice boomed over the sounds of running, scuffling, and other shouting voices. “Kill all those bastards.”
She managed to lift her head and turn it, just in time to see Micah, Alice, and Drew joining the Nephilim in pursuing the demons—who had turned tail and ran now that their master had fallen. Turning her head again, she found Abaddon’s scroll lying on the ground nearby. Reaching out, she took hold of it and quickly sparked hellfire, incinerating the paper until it crumbled into ash. Sighing with relief, she let her head fall back to the ground and closed her eyes.
“Five down, five to go,” she whispered.
Her mission was half over, but there was still so much more to be done. If this fight had been any indication of what war with Eligos would be like, Addison was terrified to her core to see what might be next.
Forcing herself to sit up, she protracted her wings, wincing as the pain became a bit duller. Her heart sank at what she saw as she turned to look around. The demons had destroyed the auditorium, and, it appeared, most of the other rooms beyond it. She could see through gaping holes in the walls that they’d done a lot of damage. Craning her neck upward, she noticed large openings in the ceiling, stretching from the basement level and through the upper floors, allowing the light of the afternoon sun to filter in. The place would be flooded when it rained.
Harley’s den—her safe haven for the Nephilim—had been destroyed.
With a groan, she struggled to her feet, ignoring the pain wracking her body. Her back and hips ached from being thrown around, and her head was pounding. Still, Jack had been far worse off.
Making her way toward the backstage area, she opened the door to the room where they’d met with Derek before the fighting had broken out. Jack sat in a chair, shirtless. Derek stood over him, seeming to attempt using Jack’s shirt to form a sling of sorts.
“There,” Derek said, standing back to inspect his handiwork. “That should keep it stable until we can get you to an angel healer.”
“Don’t need one,” Jack grunted, leaning back in his chair.
“What do you mean, you don’t need one?” she protested, coming further into the room. “Derek, what’s wrong with him?”
“Just a dislocated shoulder,” Derek replied. “I was able to pop it back into the socket. There’s nothing else to do but use ice, and maybe find him some painkillers.”
“Or an angel healer,” she protested, narrowing her eyes at Jack. “You’re in pain, I can tell.”
“It’s an old baseball injury,” he argued. “It got dislocated once, which makes it prone to happen again. I have a sling at home. I’m f
ine.”
“He’s right,” Derek agreed. “It’s known as Chronic Shoulder Instability. He just needs to rest the shoulder for a while and it’ll be fine.”
“Is it done?” Jack asked, changing the subject. “Abaddon—”
“I pulverized his ass to kingdom come, and Micah is leading the others in chasing down the last of the demons,” she said in a rush. “Don’t try to change the subject on me.”
“Derek, can you give us a minute?” Jack said suddenly, not even sparing him a glance. He was staring up at Addison with a determined gleam in his eye.
Nodding, Derek disappeared without a word, closing the door behind him.
Addison lingered in a corner of the room, her throat constricting as he stood to face her. Her eyes were burning, and she feared she might start crying any second.
Something warm and wet splashed her cheek. Tears.
Damn it, she was crying.
“Come here,” he said, a clear command in his tone.
She crossed the space between them, fighting back a sob with a sniffle. “Jack, I’m okay.”
Reaching out with his good arm, he pulled her against him. “No, you’re not.”
She sank against him, burying her face in the curve of his neck. “No,” she agreed. “I’m not. I don’t think I’ve ever …”
Trailing off, she sucked in a shaky breath and tried to hold it together. She was trembling in his hold, wrapping one arm tight around his neck and clinging for dear life.
“I’ve never been more terrified in my life,” she whispered. “When you went down into that pit … I thought I’d lost you again.”
“But you didn’t,” he replied, tightening his arm around her. “You saved me, Addie. You saved my life.”
Lifting her head, she met his gaze. “I wasn’t sure I could, really. I just knew that if you were going down, I was going with you.”
Letting her go, he used his uninjured hand to swipe the tears from her face. Then, he gripped her chin and angled her head before kissing her. In his kiss, she felt his gratitude for having been saved, his love, his affection, his relief that they’d lived to fight another day. She clung to him, careful not to jostle his injured arm, drinking from his mouth and allowing her senses to be flooded with the scent and taste of him. For four months, she’d lived without him, and they’d seemed like years. She didn’t know if she could have survived losing him again.
“How do you feel?” he asked, lifting one of her arms to inspect the imprints left by the fangs of Abaddon’s disgusting little creatures. “The bites should heal pretty quickly. The light will take care of that. But he threw you around a lot. Are you hurt anywhere?”
She shook her head. “I’m a bit sore, but it’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before. Those bugs … so freakin’ gross.”
Jack chuckled. “The Destroyer is only one of his names. King of Locusts is the other, and now you know why. I agree … nasty as hell.”
“The little pain I’m feeling isn’t my main concern,” she said with a sigh. “Harley’s den is in shambles. All the people who live here … their home has been demolished.”
Jack frowned. “I had a feeling it might come to that. With Eligos’ children choosing sides, things are going to start getting ugly. The Nephilim who side with us are targets now. The other dens might be next.”
Her heart sank as she thought of Harley and the people she fought to protect. It was obvious the girl cared about them, and because Addison was one of them, she did, too. The thought of her siblings being homeless angered her—it broke her heart.
“Where will they live?” she wondered out loud. “What will they do?”
And then, it hit her. Before Jack could say anything, she gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth. It was as if someone had opened the curtains of her mind, flooding it with light and clarity.
Gayle had said in her letter that Addison would know what to do with her inheritance when the time came. She’d also alluded to Addison’s purpose. What if it was all meant to be connected somehow?
“I’d like to know what brought that smile to your face,” he said with a chuckle.
She laughed, not even realizing she’d been smiling. “I’m smiling because I know what we can do … I know where my siblings are going to live.”
Jack lifted his eyebrows. “You do?”
“Yes,” she said with a decisive nod. “I think it’s time I called Mr. Thorton.”
Chapter Sixteen: Homecoming
Micah braced one hand against the doorframe and stared at the wooden panel he’d just knocked on. His vision swam dizzily, and it was a wonder he’d been able to drive in such a state. Swaying on his feet, he blinked and fought to regain his equilibrium. He wanted to go numb, reaching that state of inebriation where the only thing he could feel was the buzzing of moonshine through his veins. He’d sat down in his apartment, taking up his usual place in the worn recliner, with the intent to do just that.
Three mason jars of hooch later, and he could still feel. That raw ache in the pit of his gut just refused to go away. And so, he’d come here for one reason—the one other thing he knew could make the pain go away for just a little while.
That was, if she would answer the blasted door.
He knocked again, harder this time. It was late, but he knew her to be a night person, never in bed before midnight, and then usually reading or watching TV until she fell asleep. She was here, she was awake, and she could help him forget.
Finally, the door swung open, and the person he most certainly had not come to see appeared. He wasn’t wearing his glasses, and was dressed for bed. But, even in his drunken state, Micah could tell the guy hadn’t slept a wink—possibly in days.
“Derek,” he drawled, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe.
Staring back at him, his expression flat, Derek pursed his lips. “Micah.”
“Is she here?” he asked.
They both knew who he referred to.
Derek folded his arms over his chest, raising his chin a notch. “Why do you want to know?”
Micah found himself taken aback for a moment. Derek looked like he might actually try to physically stop him from coming inside. Which might have made him laugh if not for the derision emanating from the guy like a tangible force. Of course, Derek couldn’t stop him, but the fact that he wanted to gave him pause. It had never occurred to him that Alice’s partner and roommate might dislike him, but … well, he had every reason to.
“None of your business,” he snapped, pushing one hand against the door and shoving it further open. “Get outta the way.”
Derek’s throat convulsed when he swallowed forcefully; yet, he didn’t budge. “No.”
The word came out sounding more like a question than a statement—uncertain. Still, he stood his ground. The guy had balls, Micah would give him that.
“I said—”
“No!” Derek said again, a bit forcefully this time. “Haven’t you hurt her enough? She’s finally over … just leave her alone.”
He’d just opened his mouth to issue a threat when Alice appeared behind Derek, her blue eyes narrowed at him. She was dressed for bed, too, in a pair of shorts that showed her toned legs and a top that only reached her navel, displaying the butterfly tattooed on the lower left part of her stomach, near her hipbone, and the tip of the one etched against her ribs on the right—a phoenix.
“What the hell are you doing here?” she said, hands braced on her hips.
“Waitin’ for Poindexter here to get outta my way, for a start,” Micah grumbled.
Derek looked as if he wanted to say something, but remained silent as Alice moved to stand between them in the doorway.
“You’re shitfaced,” she accused.
He gave her a slow grin, the kind he knew had worked on her in the past. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Ugh,” she mumbled. “Come inside. The least I can do is stop you from killing yourself trying to drive home.”
She backed away from the
door to let him in, forcing Derek to move out of the way. Micah gave him a smug smirk over Alice’s head as he managed to stumble over the threshold, closing the door behind him.
Alice turned to Derek and the two spoke in hushed tones. Micah could hardly think past the buzz in his veins and the need eating away at him. He only caught snatches of the conversation, and from it, determined that Derek wanted him gone, but Alice insisted he sleep on the couch since he was drunk. Eventually, he left them alone, retreating into his bedroom, casting them a solemn stare before closing the door.
Crossing the living room, she entered the hall leading to the bathroom and opened a closet, coming out with a blanket and pillow. She hurled them in his direction, hitting him square in the chest. He reached up and caught them before they could hit the floor.
“Sleep it off, Micah,” she grumbled, making a beeline toward the open door of her room. “Then go home.”
Tossing the blanket and pillow onto the couch, he pursued, catching up to her in three long strides. Before she could slam the door in his face, he reached out, taking her by the shoulders.
“I didn’t come here to sleep,” he murmured, leaning close.
She glared up at him, her jaw clenched tight—but she didn’t pull away. Lowering his head, he brushed his lips against her forehead, feathering toward the silver ring piercing one eyebrow. She trembled, stiffening a bit, but still not moving away as he moved lower, kissing his way down the side of her face and aiming for her lips.
“I’m hurtin’ Alice,” he murmured, smoothing his hands down over her arms and then gripping her waist. “Hurtin’ bad.”
“Not my problem … not anymore,” she retorted, her mouth brushing against his.
“Come on,” he pleaded, inching his hands up slowly, creeping beneath her shirt. “It ain’t been so long that you forgot how good it was. Weren’t we good together, Alice?”
“Yes,” she whispered, her breath hitching as his thumbs crept over her ribs, higher and higher, brushing the undersides of her breasts. “We were.”
Sinking against her, he allowed the pads of his thumbs to stroke her nipples, both of which were pierced with silver barbells. She sucked in a sharp breath, shuddering as he pinched one of the rings and gave it a little tug. The piercings made her more sensitive, and he knew the tugging drove her wild.
