by Lexi Ostrow
“There is nothing you could have done. Seraphine boxed us into a small space so we could not defend ourselves. Do not blame yourself, boy.”
Philippe rocked as a sob tore from him. His breath was pushing out in loud huffs as he tried to control himself in front of the man.
“You need to get Kellan back. We need to hope the communicators work down here.”
His eyelids slipped closed, and Philippe felt an indescribable pain wrap around his heart and squeeze.
“Promise me you will save my, Odette.”
He nodded, forgetting the man couldn’t see it and terrified to speak aloud for the pain that would be heard in his voice. “Yes.”
The rise and fall of Thomas Agardawes’ chest was growing incredibly less noticeable and further apart as they spoke and Philippe knew that there would not be much time left. Neither of them spoke again, he just held onto the man’s head and took his hand to hold as well. He had failed and cost Odette her father and the Alliance its leader. It was unspeakable, and he had no idea what he could do.
“One last thing.”
His words were so labored Philippe almost didn’t understand what was said.
“Tell her…tell her I’m sorry for deceiving her. Make sure she knows.”
He grew quiet, and for a moment, Philippe thought he’d lost him already.
“Make sure she knows I love her.”
The tears slid hot trails down his cheeks, and with his vision blurred, he didn’t realize right away that those words had been the Guildmasters’ last. Shudders and cries wracked through his body as he sat on the floor, mourning one of the best men he had ever had the privilege of knowing.
When he could focus again, he mindlessly lifted his wrist, pushing the buttons and twisting the three knobs for Kellan on the communicator cuff without even looking down. Tears still fell and dropped on the ground and the Guildmasters’ body as he waited. Kellan hadn’t answered prior, and that worried him.
“Did you hit a dead end?”
“He’s dead.” The words were hard to say, and he felt a fresh wave of tears cascade down.
“I’m sorry, who’s dead?”
“Agardawes. We were ambushed. I couldn’t—” his voice broke off.
“Shit.” Kellan’s curse held all the tone of a Brit, cold and emotionless as they were portrayed to be over many issues.
Philippe swallowed a few times, knowing the power wouldn’t hold for long. “Come down the tunnel, Kellan. He asked me to call you and tell you to look with me.”
“I’ll be right there. Philippe, it wasn’t your fault. I don’t know what you experienced, but it wasn’t your fault.”
The communicator buzzed and went dead. Whether Kellan killed it or the power source ran out, he wasn’t certain. He was alone, with the dead body of the man he had failed to protect in his lap.
Suddenly, the torches on the tunnel walls didn’t seem so bright. Getting up and getting Odette didn’t seem as important, knowing he had to tell her he’d let her father die. She may have been mad at him, but he had been her father when it had mattered.
He closed his eyes, and let the darkness wash over him, but it wasn’t enough to remove the scene from his mind. He kept seeing it, the attack. Nothing would stop it, and he didn’t even try. He wanted to feel the pain of his failure, of his fear, coming true. The almighty Philippe Clemis hadn’t been enough.
The sound of rapid footsteps sometime later made him open his eyes to ensure it was Kellan.
The younger man stopped as he came upon Philippe and Agardawes, falling to his knees with a cry of his own. Anguish and despair overtook Philippe again, and just for the moment, he abandoned his need to find Odette and let the pain of death wash over him.
Nineteen
“Report,” Seraphina barked the command the minute she saw the puff of blue smoke appear at her bedside.
“All killed.”
She glowered at the Imp. Its lack of description did not bode well. She turned and raked a fingernail down the Incubus’ chest. Ignoring the Imp, she placed a quick trail of kisses over his chest and gently bit his nipple. When he groaned, and she smelled a release of his scent, she pulled back—always enjoying the challenge of resisting one of his kind.
“You may go. I will seek you out after this mess has been cleaned up.” She stood up from under the covers, unabashed in her nudity as she walked over to her mirror. Picking up the dark red lipstick, she applied it in a perfect curve over her full lips and turned back to the useless demon still in her chambers.
“Who was all killed? Do not seek to deceive me, Imp. Your usefulness can be replaced on another of your kind.” It wasn’t an empty threat; any Imp could be used as a spy.
“My brothersss. The huntersss ssslaughtered them.”
The hiss made her skin crawl. She was not shocked the Imps had not made it. They were higher demons, only to the extent of their powers. Beyond that, they were good for little. “What of the Thrashers that flanked them?”
“Ssshot down.”
She flung her hand out and sent the demon flying into the wall. He yelped as his tiny body crashed with excessive force. Slowly, she sauntered over to him and looked down. All hope was not completely destroyed. “What of the Alliance members?”
“There were only two when I sssaw them. The old man, we killed him,” the creature shrieked in glee.
Whilst it wasn’t the perfect victory, Seraphina found herself content.
She had no clue what had become of the third hunter. He may have perished on his own, which was a shame. She much preferred hunters to die in agony. However, killing the leader of the Alliance for certain was a glorious victory. She’d known the old man didn’t belong down there and regretted her initial anger at the Kappa’s mistake.
In biting Odette, they had single-handedly dragged the Alliance leader from his chambers and delivered a creature to her that not only could Seraphina link with due to her Angel blood, but one who humans had an innate desire to please.
She bent down and carefully helped pick the blue Imp to his feet. She had no powers to heal, like her Pure counterpart, but it was all right. Demons lived in constant battle, and the Imp would be fine shortly.
“Your duty is not yet done. Only when you finish, will you earn a place in freedom.” She had bartered protection from others with the Imp species. They were small, quick and could appear and disappear. However, they lacked the survival skills needed, and their numbers were small, more so since aligning with her.
“I would have preferred to have killed Philippe Clemis outright. However, since I did not, you are to find him once more and follow him. I will see to it another attack occurs, and you will report back when it is over.”
“Yesss, My Queen.” The small head bowed, and in a swirl of blue fog, he was gone.
“Philippe, you are as impressive here as you are on the streets of London. However, how well will you fare when the enemy wears Odette’s face?”
Walking to the closet, she grabbed a sapphire colored body-forming gown that no human would dare wear, but she was a Fallen and could wear the fashion she desired.
Glancing in the mirror, she grinned at herself. It was incredible the way good sex could put a block on the strings of the mind. She’d learned that, when Demetrious’ vision grew too intense, she could shut her mind down to him momentarily.
She couldn’t flash out, her energy needed to be saved for Rafe and Odette. Both were obstinate, and she was growing tired of it. Walking down the hallways, she felt as if she would grow tired long before she reached the realm the Succubus and Incubus shared.
The moment she crossed into their territory, she felt every cell in her body buzz. Lust streamed through her from the rampant scent release from the beings residing there. Deep breaths were all that guided her through the corridor-like streets and to the house she was seeking. No noises came from within, and she didn’t knock, simply twisted the knob and walked in.
The strange demon sat drinking som
ething at a small table. Kwana, the only one of her kind, was the result of an Illusion Demon and a Succubus mating. She was also a vital tool that Seraphina had used more than once. Demons crossbred oft, but it was rare betwixt higher and lower demons. Since it had happened fifty years before, Seraphina had no choice but to allow their kind a small section underground. Greyston Holt had refused and remained among the humans. Something that had ultimately led to his betrayal.
Due to her mixed breeding, Kwana held none of the beauty of a Succubus. She had taken after her father, her body a horrid mottled brown with boils over much of her skin.
“Seraphina, how may I serve you this time?” the Succubus’s voice was velvety.
Seraphina snapped her teeth at the woman for daring to use her scent on her. “Do that again, and rare jewel or not, I will cut you down in your own home. I have a prisoner I need you to emulate. Then a man for you to seduce who wanders around the tunnels just outside.”
The woman’s stunning amethyst eyes swirled with desire. “It would be my pleasure,” her voice normal.
Seraphina was quite glad the woman had not continued her earlier path. She didn’t want a row with the other demon.
“I had a feeling it would appeal to you.” She extended her arm. “Take hold. I will flash us.” She had enough power to use the skill a few times, and she had no desire to walk back through the lustful areas of the realm.
Kwana’s hand gently touched her arm, and Seraphina closed her eyes. She flashed them to the circular room where all the cell doors spanned from the center of the dungeon.
“Your mark is just beyond that door. Use the small window to view her, do not open the door, and do not converse with her. She is part Angel, Layel’s daughter. Nod that you understand.”
The demon nodded, and Seraphina turned her back on her, walked to the cell holding Rafe and pushed it open. Before walking in, she turned back to the demon. “Wait here, and a Fallen will flash you to the where the Imps last reported them being in the cave. From there, you must wander until you find them. Oh, and your name is Odette, the man is Philippe.”
She walked inside Rafe’s cell and frowned. His wings were gone, and yet he gnashed his teeth at Muriel when the Fallen commanded him to drink her blood.
“What failure have you created now?” She walked around the broken body of the great Angel lying on the floor.
The problem was obvious, and she slapped Muriel. “His root feathers are intact. He has not been forced to Fall.”
“He’s attacked me. Izazal needs to complete this one. I am not strong enough.” The blonde Angel’s eyes dared Seraphina to deny it, knowing she wouldn’t.
“That is fine. I have come for a different task. Somewhere, a hunter is wandering. I want you to bring him to me. It seems a shame not to keep one of them to play with. I had not thought of it before, but the idea is too promising to pass up. The information we could torture out whilst Odette slinks the halls of the Alliance is too plentiful.”
“What would you have me do?”
“Seduce him, look upon him. Whatever it takes to make him distracted enough for you to capture.”
Muriel nodded. “Where is he?”
“As I said, wandering. So you had best be off.”
Muriel’s face twitched in a snarl, and for a moment, Seraphina wondered if the woman would actually strike her. The blood in her veins connecting her to Seraphina made her loyal, so she did not.
Her face did not revert to its pretty form as she stalked out of the cell.
“Well now, Rafe, it would seem it’s just you and me.” She picked up the ax that sat on the table behind him and ran her finger over it, testing its sharpness.
“Just what I was waiting for.”
In an instant, she went from standing to being telepathically thrown into the wall. The air whooshed out of her lungs, and her head spun. She couldn’t be certain because the pain began to cause her to slip into darkness, but she thought she saw Rafe stand and walk straight out of the cell door Muriel had left open.
She could do nothing.
Demetrious’ voice whispered in her ear, “What a shame, my beautiful love. Another Pure Angel has put you in your place.”
His snicker was the last thing she had heard before she blacked out for the first time in a century.
Philippe’s whole body felt raw from his hair follicles down to his toes. Everything hurt. Almost a year before, Lucius had unleashed his greatest fear on him in self-defense, and Seraphina had made it a reality.
He was useless, and he knew it. His eyes refused to focus. His brain wouldn’t click back on. Kellan had spent the better part of three hours trying to get him to move. Nothing had worked. Then his communicator had rung, and Odette’s voice had come through.
It was as if a jolt of lightning had gone through him. Suddenly, he couldn’t leave her even if he’d wanted too—which he didn’t. He’d let her father down, but he would not let his death be in vain. That didn’t mean he wasn’t physically and emotion broken and beaten over his failure. Because he was.
They’d long since left the tunnel and were walking through what appeared to be small rooms. Demons had leapt out at them almost every step of the way—Imps, Illusion Demons, Jikninkis, Vampires—everything had come at them.
Philippe had fallen back behind Kellan, the fog in his brain periodically lifting as they walked. The younger man was more adept to fight for their lives than he was at the moment. He had a singular focus on Odette to block everything else out, which meant close range fighting with daggers could have resulted in Kellan being sliced and stabbed more than once.
“Do you think we’re close? To the flower or Odette?” Kellan’s voice was hard to hear as it bounced off the expanse of the room.
They walked through a short tunnel and into another room. “I’m not certain. Nothing has attacked in a long whilst, though, and I’m thirsty. Let’s take a rest.”
He saw Kellan nod and drop to the floor with no finesse. Dust flew into the air, and Philippe felt a smile pull at his lips, completely unknowing how he could find joy or humor in anything.
“You know it wasn’t your fault,” Kellan told him as he passed over a canteen from his knapsack.
“Mon Dieu! If you bloody tell me that one more time, I’m going to let the next demon we come across kill you.” Dead silence passed, and he felt himself grow queasy over his comment. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that.” He sipped the water.
“I know. I just want to make sure your head is screwed onto your shoulders and not your arse.”
“Do me a favor?”
“Yes?” Kellan took back the canteen and took some for himself.
“Never pretend to be something you aren’t when we get back. It’s not good for your soul.” He had no idea where the logic had come from, but with Kellan falsifying a British accent, even if it was to save them more hassle didn’t seem proper.
“Well, I like the idea of being undercover, but it is bloody hard to hold up sometimes.”
“Philippe! Philippe help!” Odette’s voice rang out into the cave.
His heart sped up frantically, and he jumped off the ground, racing in the direction of her voice.
“Philippe! Philippe, stop!” Kellan’s shouts mixed with hers, but Philippe didn’t care. All he was concerned about was getting to the woman he loved.
“Philippe!” Her last shout was pure joy as she rounded a corner into the room he was racing through.
“Odette!” He ran to her, his arms encircling her the moment they messily collided together. He began to rain kisses down onto her hair, her forehead, her cheeks, everywhere he could muster. Just as he went to place a kiss on her lips, he felt his prick harden with desire, and she pulled back.
“Oh, Philippe, it was so scary. I never want to go through that again.”
He drank in her appearance, even roughed up a touch, she was beautiful—an Angel. Her dark hair was in tangles, blood clotted around her lips, and her face had a darkening brui
se over her right eye. She was still stunning, and she was safe.
Without cause, he found himself tugging her back to him and kissing her deeply. Confusion warred with lust when the kiss didn’t feel like any they had shared, but his body didn’t object. In fact, he growled low as she rolled her hips into his erect shaft and drove him mad.
“Get away from her, Philippe.”
Kellan’s voice sounded right in his ear, and he growled.
“Philippe that is not Odette. That’s a fucking Succubus. I don’t know how she’s looking like Odette, but I swear to you it’s not her.”
He heard and comprehended everything Kellan said. He even agreed, but as her hands laced through his hair, he couldn’t care. She was safe, and he was going to bed her right on the dirty cave floor.
“Philippe, back up a step.”
Odette pulled out of the kiss. “Who the hell do you think you are?”
Terror sliced through Philippe. His eyes jutted down to Kellan’s crotch uncomfortably and found the man erect, his pants impressively tented. He looked back at Odette and saw the lifelessness in her eyes. Instinctively, he jerked backwards, out of her reach. His hand grazed the gun, but it trembled, and he fumbled trying to take it from his pocket.
“Philippe, close your eyes, so you don’t see this,” Kellan’s voice was dark and deadly.
Philippe did as he had been told. He was hit with an unavoidable bout of lust, and his hand trailed over his crotch.
“Fuck.” Kellan’s voice sounded so far away. “I can’t fucking do anything but what she wants.”
As Philippe’s hand gripped his shaft through his trousers, he didn’t dare wonder or open his eyes to look at Kellan. Sensations were boiling up in his body as the friction from his hand, and the fabric began to drive him mad. He was imagining something; it wasn’t his hand, it was Odette’s mouth. Just as it had been in the lake just days before. His hips were bucking, and just as his body was about to climax, a scream shattered his fantasy.
