by Cassie Ryan
Amalya waited for fear or resignation, but instead all she found was anger and indignation. She refused to cower and beg in front of this demon who had scattered her family and forced her to live in fear and look over her shoulder for the past seven hundred years.
Amalya stood her ground, raising her chin to glare up at Semiazas. “It hasn’t been nearly long enough if you ask me.” She raked a gaze over his costume and raised an eyebrow as if he didn’t still have her hand and only weapon in a death grip. “A little overdramatic isn’t it?”
He smiled down at her, a combination of amusement and a leer as interest sparked in the depths of his blue eyes. “There’s no such thing as overdramatic.” He twisted her wrist in a quick flick and a sharp sting lanced against her throat.
Amalya gasped and brought her free hand up to touch the small warm trickle of blood that had welled where Semiazas had cut her. She set her teeth together against the wave of anger that tried to swamp her.
Semiazas held her gaze as he leaned down and sensuously licked the blood from the blade of the switchblade.
Revulsion shuddered through her and she tried to wriggle her hand out of his iron grip, but he only laughed and yanked her against him. “Don’t tell me you have an issue with ingesting a little blood, my beauty, it smells and tastes like you’ve used several liters as an upgrade since I last saw you.” He wrapped his free arm around her waist holding her against him while he held her hand with the switchblade out to the side so he could bury his nose against her neck. The prickling sensation of Semiazas’s hot breath against the sensitive skin of her neck made her gag. She tasted the sharp tang of bile on the back of her tongue as she bit back the urge to whimper.
Blood. Archangel blood.
Semiazas smelled it inside her pumping through her veins and she’d forgotten all about it.
That much power flowing through her had to have an effect of some type, and the power that usually beat against her in biting waves whenever she’d been in the same room with Semiazas was now only a low hum. She hadn’t noticed it when she’d first opened the door because her fear was too busy sending her the fight-or-flight signal to run.
The new blood obviously hadn’t made her strong enough to break Semiazas’s grip, but she hoped she lived long enough to find out what benefit Raphael’s gift to her did have.
Semiazas held her tight while he looked up over her shoulder. “Thank you for your service, Caldriel. It will be remembered and rewarded.”
Betrayal stabbed deep, tightening Amalya’s chest until she thought her heart would stop.
After everything they’d said between them, Caldriel had summoned Semiazas.
The two incubi cut away one arm of Levi’s dress shirt and set his broken bones—three fingers, a wrist bone, and his ulna—following Jezebeth’s advice to the letter about not being gentle.
He’d gritted his teeth and remained silent since he knew the bones needed to be set before they began to heal and had to be rebroken. Jezebeth herself might volunteer for that duty if their previous meeting was any indication.
One of the blessings and curses that came with longevity was quicker than human healing. In fact, within a few days he wouldn’t even need the sling that he made himself out of some cloth he’d found in one of the cabinets.
He carefully stood and crossed the room to fish through the cabinets, praying to find any type of pain medication. When he found a large bottle of Vicodin he muttered, “Thank God,” then popped open the bottle and swallowed four without water.
He sank back onto an uncomfortable cot set up in the corner and closed his eyes to wait for the drugs to kick in.
They would slow his reactions slightly for the next hour or so, but he threw off the effects of medication too fast for them to do more than that. For that very reason he’d been surprised to find any painkillers here. Perhaps succubi and incubi had better luck with drugs than he did with his oddly mixed heritage.
The door burst open and slammed back against the cave wall with a booming echo.
Levi bolted to his feet, ignoring the flash of pain that radiated down his arm from the sudden movement.
Jezebeth’s stricken expression froze Levi in place.
“Where is she?” Something had happened to Amalya. He couldn’t say how he knew, but he did. Something deep inside him told him she needed him, and he didn’t have long to get there, wherever there was.
“She’s gone.” The desolation in Jezebeth’s voice sliced through him like an accusation. “Do you know where she would go?”
That was part of Jezebeth’s frustration, he realized. She hadn’t seen Amalya for seven hundred years before yesterday, and it pained her to have to ask him for information that she, as Amalya’s sister, should’ve known. He met her gaze. “No. Her entire goal was to make it safely here to Lilith and her sisters.”
Jezebeth’s expression softened slightly as if she were grateful for even that small piece of connection to her sister.
Levi cast about for something she might have said or done to help them figure out where she might go. Or if there was some way to track her if she hadn’t gone willingly . . . His thoughts tumbled over and over as a trickle of hope expanded inside him like a spark of warmth in a blizzard. When Lilith had made the deal with him to escort Amalya, she’d mentioned amulets that she would give each sister once they returned. Levi struggled to remember what their purpose was, praying it would offer some protection or at the very least act like a beacon they could follow. “Has she already received the amulet from Lilith?” he asked.
A furrow appeared between Jezebeth’s brows as she stared at him. “The one that will allow her into Lucifer’s lair? Yes. Why?”
“Lilith should be able to track it.”
When she glared at him skeptically, he held up a hand to forestall her objections. “Because of their purpose, the maker had to be supernatural, correct?”
She nodded, impatience snapping in her gaze.
“The medallion Lilith gave the companions kept me safe so Amalya didn’t drain me. What if the amulets she gave you contain the energy of the maker?”
Several emotions flowed across Jezebeth’s face, including realization, surprise, and then hope.
“Uriel,” she whispered. The word hung in the air between them for a long moment before she turned and ran down the hall.
Levi started after her and both incubi moved to stop him.
He quickly rammed his left elbow into the first man’s face, the telltale crack of the incubus’s nose breaking ringing around them in a macabre echo. The force of the blow traveled down his arm making its way to the other side of his body to painfully jar his still healing bones. He sucked in a breath, his only concession to the pain.
He used his momentum to duck low and head butt the second incubus in the gut, knocking him back to fall against the unforgiving stone floor where he lay still.
Not bothering to wait to see if either of them would rally, Levi bolted after Jezebeth, holding his injured arm away from his body the best he could while maintaining a breakneck speed. He dodged around succubi, incubi, and humans who periodically blocked his path, hoping his intuition that Jezebeth would go straight to Lilith was correct.
When he reached the door to Lilith’s lair it stood open and he pushed inside, hoping he hadn’t guessed wrong. Garnering the queen’s displeasure was never a good survival strategy.
He mentally breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Jezebeth already there speaking with Lilith in agitated tones. They both looked up at his intrusion.
“I’ll go after her,” he blurted through panted breaths.
Jezebeth’s gaze narrowed while Lilith stood and crossed the room to stand in front of him, her expression neutral. “Jezebeth has already asked to go.”
Levi searched for some argument to convince Lilith. True, he didn’t have any real right to go after her. Jezebeth was her sister, but he loved Amalya. She was his.
His thoughts faltered as he realized what he’d
just thought and replayed it inside his head. “I love her . . .”
He didn’t realize he’d spoken aloud until Lilith raised one dark brow and Jezebeth sucked in a quick breath.
Technically, Amalya was Lilith’s creature, just the way a dog or cat belonged to a human. Amalya had no leave to have a relationship with him or even return his love without permission from the queen. He knew all this. He prided himself on effortlessly navigating the complex political waters of both the human and supernatural realms. And yet he’d just given Lilith an excuse to keep him from Amalya permanently if she wished.
“You may go . . . for a price to be named later.” Lilith’s words hung in the air between them.
Levi was tempted to barter, to clarify, to negotiate some terms up front. But Amalya was out in the human realm alone and in trouble and it was his fault. He couldn’t say how he knew, but he trusted his gut instincts enough to know he would willingly bet his life on that assumption. Which he probably was, making such an open-ended deal with Lilith. “Agreed. I need to speak with Uriel.”
Surprise flashed across her features before her lips curved into a slow, sensual smile. “So be it. Jezebeth will accompany you to find Amalya.”
“She’s in just as much danger inside the human realm as Amalya,” he protested.
Lilith cut him off with a sharp look. “Her protector will be angry with my decision, but he’s currently on a fact-finding mission for me and we don’t have time to discuss it. Jezebeth goes.”
He stopped short when he realized Lilith had said that Noah, a human, would be angry with her for her decision? Levi wondered what type of arrangement Noah had made that allowed him that much leeway with Lilith. He frowned and started to protest again when a wave of familiar energy prickled against his back. It reminded him of walking out of an air-conditioned building into the hot sunshine. He slowly turned to find Uriel watching them expectantly, his expression guarded.
Uncomfortable tension crackled between Lilith and Uriel, and Levi resisted the urge to step back out of their line of sight.
“My lord Uriel.” Jezebeth rushed forward to stand in front of the Archangel, breaking the heavy pause that had blanketed the room.
Uriel’s lips quirked, but the humor never made it to his eyes. “You never remember to call me ‘my lord.’ I must’ve been summoned for something very dire indeed.”
“Amalya is gone. We need to track her using the amulet you gave her.”
Uriel’s face smoothed of all expression. “I’m unable to directly interfere with you or your sisters.”
Jezebeth nodded impatiently. “I know. But . . .” She faltered as she seemed to search for a good argument to convince Uriel.
“Please,” Levi interjected. “I’ve decided I need to run to instead of from.” At his direct reference to their conversation after Levi had broken his bones trying to knock Uriel on his ass, Uriel studied him for a long moment.
Silence stretched between them until slowly Uriel nodded. “Run quickly. Time grows short.”
Jezebeth’s brow furrowed as she looked back and forth between them. “I don’t care where we’re running. We need to find her.”
Uriel placed a hand on Jezebeth’s shoulder. “I can’t interfere with the four of you, but I can help someone who has decided to take my advice.” He glanced up from Jezebeth to meet Levi’s gaze.
Uriel reached inside his pocket and pulled out an amulet similar to the one Levi currently wore, the one that gave him immunity from the effects of Amalya’s succubus nature. This amulet was red, had different markings, and the energy radiating from the metal was much different than his, even though Levi recognized the similar workmanship of both items. “This amulet will be drawn to its twin that resides within the human realm. I regret that I cannot bring you back, but I’m sure you’ll find a way.” Uriel gave Levi a long, meaningful glance that Levi wished he knew how to interpret.
Levi started to reach out with his left hand and winced as pain shot up and down his arm.
Uriel took Levi’s left hand and placed the amulet in his palm, closing his fingers over the warmed metal. “Energy runs through all things. Like calls like.”
The cryptic words hung in the air for only a second before Jezebeth spoke, her tone brisk and impatient. “We’re wasting time. She’s out there alone.”
Levi understood that three of Jezebeth’s sisters were out there under similar circumstances, which probably only added to her fears. But Amalya had been safely sleeping in her room just a scant handful of hours ago. He shared Jezebeth’s frustration and sense of urgency.
She took the amulet out of his hand and stood on her tiptoes to loop it around Levi’s neck. It fell just over his badly rumpled shirt. She faced him with a determined expression hardening her features.
He blinked and suddenly Uriel stood in front of him. “What—” He swung his gaze to the side to see Uriel standing there also. Confusion swirled through him as he looked back and forth between the two Uriels.
An impatient sound came from the one just in front of him. “Amalya can sense truth. I can shape-shift. Figured this form might give us an advantage. Let’s go, we don’t have time for this.”
He stared hard at the person standing in front of him that he now knew to be Jezebeth but could find no difference between her and the real Uriel, except Jezebeth couldn’t duplicate the powerful energy that flowed in waves off the Archangel.
The Jezebeth-Uriel made another snort of impatience and grabbed his hand, threading large masculine fingers through his in a very feminine gesture. Levi stiffened at the oddity of the situation but forced himself to stay still as he looked up across the two inches that separated them in height.
“Concentrate on the amulet and finding the other one. It was given to you, it won’t work for me,” she snapped as if he were a daft student.
Levi frowned and closed his eyes concentrating on the thrumming energy from the new amulet around his neck. Once he was comfortable with it he reached out with his senses, searching for its twin.
He was surprised to find one just across from him—most likely around Jezebeth’s neck. He reminded himself he shouldn’t be surprised, since each succubus was to receive one once they returned to Lilith’s lair. Although apparently hers wouldn’t work the same way.
He reached out farther, his awareness slipping beyond these rooms and reaching out into the human realm as if pulled by a magnet.
A small gasp escaped him as he felt a connection with the other amulet.
A wrenching sense of vertigo ripped his stomach across the miles a split second behind the rest of his body—or at least it felt like that. He opened his eyes shocked to find himself standing in the ballroom of Ashford House.
The smell of demon and blood was thick on the air, and both he and Jezebeth, still in her Uriel form, whirled to face the other occupants of the room.
Amalya lay limp on the same antique settee where Levi had stolen his first kiss, her arm flung out toward him. Her shirt and bra were ripped open baring her breasts, and her neck, breasts, and torso were covered in dozens of cuts that still oozed blood. Her face and skin were pale, her eyes closed.
A familiar figure leaned over Amalya—
Levi shook his head, an instinctive denial to what his mind told him he saw.
Caldriel slowly straightened and turned to face him, cementing this odd reality. “Obediah,” she said as she stared at him.
Betrayal and anger slashed through him as he stared at his mother in cold disbelief. “What have you done?”
Jezebeth started forward and Caldriel’s brows furrowed, most likely as she tried to make sense of the dichotomy of Uriel’s form, but with the energy of a succubus.
“What are you?” she demanded, a trace of worry finally cracking her defiant veneer.
While her attention was distracted by Jezebeth’s borrowed Uriel form, Levi walked forward slowly as he slid his silver dagger out of the sheath in the waistband of his trousers. He now wished he hadn’t
taken the Vicodin. Not only would his reactions be slower, but he would have to fight left handed if it came to that. And fight he would to save Amalya, even if it meant killing Caldriel.
“I’m pissed off, that’s what I am,” Jezebeth answered in Uriel’s voice. “What have you done?”
Caldriel’s gaze snapped to Levi as she finally noticed him closing in. Her gaze pinned him in place and she stood unmoving, her expression sad. “She’s right. I should’ve told you. But actions still speak more loudly.”
She knelt slowly and grabbed something near her feet, straightening as she brandished it in front of her. It took him a minute to see past all the blood covering the blade, but when he did his anger flashed anew.
Amalya’s switchblade. The one he’d watched Jethro lay into her open palm not too long ago.
He looked at his mother as horror bloomed through him.
He’d never deluded himself that his mother was a saint. She was a demon, after all. But she’d apparently hidden many things from him in her quest to keep him as the duke so she could maintain appearances and the lifestyle she’d built. But he’d mistakenly thought her time among the human realm had mellowed her, tempered her.
He’d obviously been very wrong. And now Amalya had paid the price.
She’d come here looking for him, he realized as guilt stabbed deep. He’d left Lilith’s lair without a word to her, and his stubborn, independent Amalya had followed him, knowing him well enough to know where he would’ve gone.
This entire situation was his fault. If he’d just talked to her before running away as Uriel had accused him, she would still be safe in her rooms back at Lilith’s lair rather than lying limp in a house that embodied his past.
Amalya’s arm moved catching his attention, and he bit back a sigh of relief that she was still alive. Instead, he kept his attention on his mother, trying to figure the best way to get both Amalya and Jezebeth safely out of here. “You’ve also just made it quite clear where your loyalties lie . . . Mother.”
