by Cassie Ryan
Levi stiffened in his seat, his hand going to his waistband where his daggers usually sat. He’d left them upstairs embedded in the back of the demon host’s skull. “How did you know Jethro’s name? Or Amalya’s for that matter? I never told you either.”
Raphael shrugged as if he hadn’t noticed Levi’s reaction or frantic reach for his weapons. “When I looked into Jethro’s soul upstairs that gave me all the information I needed.”
Levi frowned as he remembered Jethro had started to argue about Amalya being made to drink Raphael’s blood. One quick gaze from Raphael and Jethro had blanched and backed down. “Did you look into my soul as well?” Levi asked feeling violated even without the confirmation.
Raphael swallowed a mouthful of food and laughed. “No. I tried that as soon as you summoned me.”
“And?” Levi prompted.
“And . . . nothing.” Raphael stood and crossed to the refrigerator where he pulled out a large pitcher of iced tea and brought it to the table along with two glasses he’d found in the cabinets. “You have my blood in you, so you’re immune to soul gazing, just like Amalya will now be when she recovers.”
As the implications hit him like a gunshot, Levi snapped his gaze to Raphael’s.
“You’re on the right track. You carry my blood, but Ashford was the one who lay with Caldriel to conceive you.”
A sudden kinship with the late duke ran through Levi, even though the old bastard had been a proud and haughty man. “Then how—”
Raphael cut him off with an impatient gesture. “If I tell you, will you eat?”
Levi slowly nodded and picked up his fork and began to eat, if only to hear the story. He slid a large forkful of pasta between his lips but tasted nothing as he met Raphael’s gaze to hold him to his promise.
Raphael smirked as he poured them both tea and took a long drink before speaking. “Without going too much into the ancient history of Caldriel, she was able to acquire a long-term human host and has always had a knack for ingratiating herself into any situation she wanted. I’m not sure how she wormed her way into the haute ton of British society, but she managed it and Ashford fell madly in love with her.”
He took another long drink of tea and set the glass on the table. “Hemophilia ran in Ashford’s family like most of those who share blood with the royals. When you were three months old, Caldriel came to me and begged me to save you.” Raphael sighed. “Yes, she’s a demon, but I think she truly loved your father and she truly loves you. She’d stayed clear of the supernatural politics for quite some time and you had the mark of destiny about you, so I couldn’t turn away.”
Levi frowned at the “mark of destiny” comment. “So you gave me your blood, just like you did with Amalya upstairs.”
Raphael nodded. “Granted, you were so tiny, it didn’t take much, but the end result was that when I healed you, all of Ashford’s blood was cleaned away and mine ran in its place.”
“So in a way, you are my father, but so is he.”
Raphael nodded. “Exactly.” He laid down his fork and met Levi’s gaze. “And just as having Caldriel’s blood will automatically garner you enemies, so will having mine. Only other Archangels or very high fallen will be able to sense what’s inside you. Most others will think you half demon, half human. It’s probably best if you don’t advertise otherwise.”
Levi fell silent as everything he’d learned churned inside his mind trying to fit together in some coherent way. But he was too exhausted to make much good sense of any of it, so he took Raphael’s advice and ate.
11
Lilith pulled on her robe with quick, impatient gestures as she tried unsuccessfully to calm her trembling fingers.
“Do you wish me to leave?”
Gabriel’s soft question startled Lilith, reminding her the Archangel still sat naked on the edge of the bed.
“No,” she said even though she was tempted to say yes. She’d made the decision to exclude Uriel from her sustenance sessions because it had become too hard for her to have him so close and know she would never be able to have him.
The interruption of her time with Gabriel threatened to undermine her resolve, but she couldn’t let it. “Please stay.”
An urgent knock on the door to her quarters made Lilith scowl. Instead of calling out, she walked across the room and pulled open the door.
Jezebeth stood just outside, her gaze downcast. “My queen. You asked me to alert you to any growing signs of Armageddon in the human world.”
Lilith nodded and frowned. The worldwide appearance of shades definitely wasn’t a step in the right direction. She wondered what had happened now. “Enter.”
Jezebeth hesitated at the threshold. “It was Noah who brought back the information.”
Noah, a horror writer in the human realm, had brought Jezebeth back safely just last week. Now Noah served as a messenger and liaison for Lilith, which granted him both immunity from Jezebeth’s succubus powers and also the ability to remain with Jezebeth in Lilith’s lair.
“Bring him.” Lilith glanced behind her, surprised to find Gabriel gone. A wistful sense of loss wound through her. Uriel’s poor-timed visit had shattered the bubble of happiness Lilith had created with Gabriel these past several days, and she wasn’t sure it could be resurrected. She bit back a sigh and left the door to her quarters standing open as she turned and headed back inside.
By the time she’d curled into her favorite chair, her feet comfortably tucked under her, Noah and Jezebeth stood before her, the door to her quarters firmly closed behind them.
“What did you find?” She caught Noah’s gaze and held it.
“Not only are the instances of the shades increasing, as well as the deaths caused by them, but there are parts of the ocean that have begun to bubble.”
“Bubble?”
Noah nodded. “I should actually say ‘boil’. Even in icy waters, where the bubbles have appeared, any sea life or humans who have ventured too near have been boiled alive.”
Lilith frowned and wished Gabriel had stayed to hear this new development. “What’s the reaction from the humans?”
“Right now it’s being downplayed as an effect of global warming, although certain fringes of the population are beginning to scream about the end of the world. Some say the Mayan’s calculations for 2012 were a bit off, the right-wingers say God is angry and punishing the world, and still others say it’s the normal evolution of the planet and are unconcerned.” Noah shook his head. “There are a lot of scared people out there, and most of the leaders around the world seem to be fighting among themselves to place blame elsewhere.”
She nodded. “Just like they handle everything else,” she noted absently. “Any word from Amalya, Reba, or Galina?”
Noah and Jezebeth exchanged a quick glance and Lilith frowned. “Tell me.”
Jezebeth cleared her throat before speaking. “Sinner’s Redemption was burned to the ground earlier today. Most of the workers escaped with only a few injuries. The Madame, Celine, was found pulled in two and dismembered lying outside the smoking remains of the building.”
Lilith’s grip tightened on the arms of the chair. “Amalya?”
Jezebeth stiffened and she raised her chin. “She’s alive. I’d know if she weren’t.”
Lilith nodded. She would’ve felt the loss of one of her own as well but was glad to receive confirmation from Jezebeth.
“It’s being called another sign of the end times—the prostitutes being punished with fire and damnation.” Noah held out a folder. “I’ve cut out news articles I think you should see and highlighted some that may be signs of Amalya and Reba. I can’t find anything on Galina. It’s like she’s disappeared entirely.”
A large wave of exhaustion threatened to engulf Lilith. She took the folder and then waved them away. She needed time to think and to rest. It seemed she could no longer protect those she was responsible for. The world was coming to an end, and she continued to hurt those she loved.
S
he was afraid to wait and see how this situation could get even worse.
Uriel tried once more to locate Raphael and cursed when he was unsuccessful. Wherever the damned Archangel was, he was masking his location. He had to be. If Raphael were dead, Uriel would’ve sensed it, and so would every other high-level angel.
What reason could Raphael have for secrecy?
Uriel had spent the last several hours poring over the journal he’d found at the Badass Café and he needed to share what he’d found. He stood and stretched, walking out through his kitchen and down the hallway to the front door of his two-story brick Victorian.
He had a soft spot for that time in history and had chosen several design elements for his property. He walked out the front door, down the steps and several minutes later, found himself standing just under the weeping willow that Lilith always materialized under when she used to come here a few times a week for her sustenance sessions.
The salty tang of ocean mixed with the astringent scent from the willow left an almost metallic taste on the back of his tongue, and he breathed deep, trying to replace the pungent, musky odor of Lilith’s and Gabriel’s arousal that still clung to his skin and memory.
He’d known better than to go to Lilith’s lair earlier.
As he’d materialized inside her chamber, he’d convinced himself he wanted to tell her he’d found another journal. Instead, just as Semiazas had said, he’d found her in bed with Gabriel.
A vivid memory of the two of them together on top of Lilith’s rumpled sheets flashed through his mind and pain sliced through him even as his cock hardened inside his slacks.
He’d tried to lie to himself and say he was surprised, or that he didn’t care—he’d only gone on business, after all—but Uriel couldn’t abide hypocrisy for long.
Especially his own.
No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop thinking about Lilith. Ever since he’d first seen her walk out through the gates of the Garden of Eden all those millennia ago, he’d been drawn to her. Even at the time he hadn’t been able to explain the strange connection that always sizzled between them, but he’d risked life and loyalty to intercede on her behalf with the Almighty.
Much to his surprise, it had been granted, and he’d been given responsibility for her well-being. Over the years, he’d remained strong in denying his need to possess her.
Except for that once.
To this day he could recall perfectly how it felt to slide inside Lilith’s slick pussy while she arched against him, and helpless sounds of her need spilled from her throat in raspy pants. But even better than that was waking up with her curled against him, her fingers tangled in his chest hair, her hot breath feathering against his skin as she slept.
His heart had ached as he’d watched her, and even as he savored those last moments, he knew he’d have to let her go. He’d been charged with her care but had stretched the rule of no sexual relations with other high-level supernaturals to the very brink. Then in one night, he’d totally broken it.
When he realized his cock was hard and aching and his breath now came in harsh, short pants, he blew out a long breath and frantically searched for calm. The ocean breeze stung his cheeks and ruffled his hair but did nothing to help. He needed to speak to Raphael before he did something crazy and self-destructive.
A harsh bark of a laugh bubbled up from his throat.
For some reason the only time he was in any danger of doing either of those things, the situation always involved Lilith.
Normally if Raphael couldn’t be found, Uriel would go and find Gabriel. However, he knew exactly where she was, and as things stood, she would be no help either.
He didn’t blame Gabriel or Lilith. The situation had been one of his own making. But living with the outcome was slowly killing him.
A flash of a powerful presence simmered through the air and Uriel snapped his gaze toward his house. The large brick Victorian two-story looked the same as it had when he’d left, but Uriel could tell he had a visitor.
Quick strides took him across the perfectly manicured lawn and up the few steps to the porch. He pushed open the front door and glanced down the entryway finding only the familiar silk paneling, hardwood banister, and the priceless pieces of artwork he’d collected throughout the years.
He concentrated on the tendrils of power and followed them down the hallway through the spacious kitchen and out onto the patio.
The Archangel Michael sat in a deck chair looking out toward the flowing waterfall and lush gardens that made up Uriel’s backyard no matter where in the human realm his house appeared.
“Nothing in five hundred years and then you visit me twice in one week. Is this becoming a habit?”
Michael turned and smiled, not bothering to stand. “I sensed your churning emotions and came to ensure you were well.”
“Bullshit.” Uriel sat and Michael laughed. Uriel’s emotions, churning or otherwise, had never seemed to concern Michael before, so he was skeptical of the Archangel’s sudden interest.
“Choose to believe what you will.” Michael waved away Uriel’s thoughts. “Do you deny you were looking for someone to talk to?”
Uriel bit back the urge to tell Michael he’d been looking for Raphael or Gabriel to talk to, not him. What he’d found inside the journals, he would’ve ended up telling Michael anyway, but since until last week he hadn’t seen the Archangel in several centuries, he’d gotten out of the habit of confiding in him—especially not with anything personal.
Uriel glanced up and found Michael patiently watching him. The piercing green eyes tended to unnerve most beings, which Michael usually used to his advantage. But physical appearance alone had little effect on Uriel.
Michael lived a lonely existence as the right hand of their Father. He knew things others didn’t and couldn’t and therefore carried a heavier burden. By necessity that had set him apart from the rest of them, and every now and then Uriel could see the weariness and pain in Michael’s expression before the Archangel ruthlessly hid them behind an utterly calm mask.
Uriel reached into the pocket of his slacks and pulled out a small blue leather journal with gold-embossed pages, ignoring Michael’s real question. “Since this latest journal was found, I’ve been reading and rereading it trying to find any clues to how to slow the onset of Armageddon.” He flipped through the pages until he found the one he’d been reading just before he’d transported to Lilith’s lair. Memories of the scene he’d stumbled into with Lilith and Gabriel threatened to surface and he swallowed hard as he wrestled to fight them back.
“Uriel.”
He glanced up and met Michael’s gaze again, but rather than the unnerving gaze he was used to, he saw . . . understanding.
“Do you feel as if they’ve deserted you?”
Uriel knew exactly who Michael meant but asked anyway. “Raphael and Gabriel?”
Michael nodded. “The three of you have been inseparable since our creation. Nothing ever before this has come between you.”
Uriel’s fingers tightened on the journal as all his swirling emotions threatened to break through his hard-won control. He swallowed hard before speaking. “I appreciate your concern, Michael, but I’d rather discuss what I found inside the journal.”
“As you wish, brother.” Michael’s overly calm tone and distant gaze made Uriel wince. Michael didn’t open up to anyone very often, and Uriel had just slammed the door in his face.
After a tense silence, Michael shifted in his chair. He threaded his fingers together, resting them against his stomach as he leaned back and stretched his long legs in front of him, crossing them at the ankle. “I know we’ve never been particularly close, but I am always here if you need to speak with me.”
Uriel nodded in acknowledgment but not in agreement. As noble as Michael’s offer was, he meant what he’d said—this situation was of his own making, and if it estranged him from Raphael and Gabriel as well as Lilith, it was no more than he deserved.
&nb
sp; “What did you find?”
Michael was letting him off the hook, and Uriel gratefully took the out he was offered. “Some of the prophecy is in the form of poems, and there are even a few lines in ancient Hebrew.”
Michael frowned. “If Semiazas wanted this to find its way into the human consciousness quickly, I would think that it would be written in a more current language.”
“I don’t think Semiazas wrote these. He doesn’t have the expertise to gather all this information.”
“Then who?” Michael shrugged.
“I doubt they were assembled by any one person. Whatever ideas and ideologies call to the horsemen would have to be included. Semiazas is very smart, don’t get me wrong, but a dedicated scholar he is not.” Uriel frowned. The origin of the journals was only a small piece of the current mystery. “Regardless of who assembled them, they’re a mishmash of ideas, languages, references, and vague statements. For example, how many people are fluent in ancient Hebrew today?”
“There are those modern-day scholars who can translate enough ancient Hebrew to come close.”
“That’s exactly what I thought at first, but there are certain words and phrases they continually mistranslate.” Uriel opened the journal and pointed to a line that was written in perfect ancient Hebrew, unlike the surrounding text which was a mixture of Latin and old English.
Michael read it out loud, translating into English. “Beware the second of four, the destroyer of worlds, who carries both the blood of temptation and the blood of the angels . . .” His words trailed off and he picked up the journal to study the text. “Ha-olinim?”
Uriel nodded, glad to see the concern on Michael’s dark features, which meant he understood the implications.
The term, which was used in certain ancient texts literally translated to “the upper ones,” or “the Ultimate ones,” and always referred to the Archangels. “For as much as you’ve said the Archangels won’t be involved in the final battles, there certainly is some evidence lately pointing to the contrary.”
