by Amy Braun
Every time something raced past their line of sight, even if that something was a billowing plastic bag, the tortured angels would thrash and scream, tugging at the leashes around their throat. Their screams were raspy, as though they had been screaming all their life. My heart ached at the sound and sight of them. They truly did look wretched.
A hand landed on my shoulder. I nearly jumped, twisting my head to look at Warrick. He shook his head sadly.
“Don’t think of them as angels, Constance. They’re monsters now. There’s no way to save them.”
But he sounded like he wanted to. If there were a way, he would have. I listened to the Wretches’ tortured howls one more time, then turned and walked back into the alley. Max had his arms wrapped around Dro, whispering something I couldn’t hear. I glanced at her as I jogged past them, knowing they were going to be right behind me.
I retraced my steps, away from the worst of the chaos. I stopped at the end of the alley and looked around it, unable to see anything. I started forward, making for the alley across the street. I skidded to a stop when a car nearly ran me over.
It was a minivan racing for downtown, apparently not knowing the madness was worse down there. I checked to make sure no more cars were looking to mow me down, then ran across the street.
The screech and crunch of metal stopped me in my tracks. I heard broken glass and a human scream. I looked down the street, seeing the minivan had been in an accident. But not with another car.
The Wretches had been set loose. One of them jumped on the roof of the van and was pounding its fists down onto it. The other Wretch climbed onto the hood and was punching at the windshield. Inside, I spotted a family shielding whoever was in the backseat. I couldn’t see them but if I had to guess, I would say that it was kids.
Warrick and Dro moved past me before I could stop them. They were the only people in our group who would always put their lives on the line for strangers. Max was quick to chase after them. Even if I could tell them that it was a dangerous idea, that we didn’t have time, that the family was going to die regardless, and that the Possessors weren’t far behind, it wouldn’t matter. They wouldn’t have listened to me.
Then I heard a little girl scream, and I knew I wasn’t going to run either.
I dashed ahead of Max, making my way toward Dro. Warrick turned his head, and saw the Possessors coming closer. They spotted us, and were starting to run in our direction. Not good.
Warrick tucked his sawed-off shotgun into his jacket and drew one of his handguns, which were better for distance shooting. He took cover by a car that wasn’t burning, keeping watch over Dro. My sister came to a stop, raising her hands and throwing out a blast of hellfire. The burst consumed the Wretch on the hood of the minivan, the blaze so hot that it was melting the fiberglass. The insane angel screeched and fell off the van, writhing in pain. She controlled the blast as much as she could, but it was taking a lot of focus.
She didn’t see the second Wretch crouching on the top of the van, ready to pounce on her.
But I did.
It was already leaping for her when my hatchet left my hand, spiraling through the air and slamming into the Wretch’s neck. Dro released her hellfire and stepped back, letting me bolt past her. The Wretch scrambled into a crouch, and I finally saw just how horrible it really was.
Its bare skin glistened with perspiration and was so thin that I could see the blue veins underneath, once I looked past all the stab and whip scars. The angel was naked, but it had nothing to prove what sex it was. Just ugly scars where the parts were supposed to be. Its hair was all but gone, nothing more than a strand or two on the sides of its head. Cracked, yellow nails poked out of skeletal fingers. Its teeth were blackened and decaying from not being looked after. The two bones that came out of the back of its shoulders were snapped and cracked. If it had wings once, they had been torn off. But the worst part was the crazed angel’s eyes.
The whites had turned a sickly yellow, the irises bleached and the pupils half purple, like they were filled with blood. They were consumed with a madness I couldn’t comprehend and didn’t want to face. They were inhuman, feral, blind to the world around them. It was like someone had taken out their brains and replaced them with a rabid pit bull’s.
Those insane eyes fixed on me. I barely held back my shudder. The creature was oblivious to the hatchet embedded in its neck, even as dark blood dribbled down its chest. I barely had time to draw a throwing knife before the Wretch moved with alarming speed and tackled me onto the ground.
My back crashed into the pavement, the leather hilt of my weapon pressing against my chest. The Wretch screamed with tortured madness as it grabbed my hair and dashed my head on the road. Pain filled my skull, everything blurring in front of my eyes. I stabbed up with my knife, catching the Wretch in the throat. It stopped trying to crack my head open, giving me a chance to pull out my hatchet and knife. I twisted my hips and threw the monster off me.
The weight was gone, but I could hardly see straight. I twisted and rolled to my feet, swaying under the wave of dizziness in my skull. I jumped when I heard the crack of gunfire, whirling to see Warrick shooting at the Possessors who had caught up with us.
All of them drew out handguns from their belts or jackets. They started firing at Warrick, who flinched and was forced to return the fire. There was no such thing as a quick exorcism, and with so many Possessors around him, Warrick had no choice but to shoot back. He shot one of the Possessors in the kneecap and winged another. The other four scattered for cover behind cars while Warrick chased them with bullets. The Possessors who had their vessels crippled were forced to leave, spiraling out of the human’s mouths and rocket into the night. The humans suddenly began to scream and clutch their excruciating injuries.
As Warrick was reloading, Dro stepped up. She pushed out her hands, but used a blast of gold heavenfire at the four Possessors that were still shooting. Her magic hit two of them in the chest, sending them tumbling down the road like they’d been tossed out of a moving car. I didn’t know if they were alive or dead, but they sure as hell didn’t get back up. The last two Possessors were staring at Dro with hesitance, and before they could decide what to do, Warrick twisted around the car and shot at them.
On the other side of me, Max was helping the shrieking family out of the minivan. They looked scratched and traumatized, which must have been hell on the emotional level of his gifts, but he gritted his teeth and got them out. I jerked back into reality when I noticed quick movement out of the corner of my eye.
I jumped aside as the furious Wretch threw itself at me, its fist slapping across my ribs. I grunted at the bruising pain, but was grateful the creature didn’t have claws. I spun on my heel and kicked the Wretch in the face, knocking it away from me.
I got into a fighting stance as the Wretch got up. Max sent the family across the street to relative safety. Dro was sending out blasts of gold heavenfire to the remaining Possessors, keeping their shots away from Warrick. I could hear shouts and gunfire coming from his direction. It was only seconds before the Wretch screamed and raced toward me, ready to get its revenge.
A blast of blinding white flame roared in our direction, hitting the back of the Wretch, so bright it nearly blinded me. I moved so my back was to the van, and listened to the shrieking Wretch. The hoarse cries were lost in the angry hellfire. I couldn’t see an inch of the tortured angel in the hunched, flaming shape. I looked over my shoulder.
Dro was holding her hand out to the Wretch, her eyes grim and determined as she controlled the demonic flame. It circled her arm almost to the elbow. Stars seemed to dance in her icy blue eyes as the Wretch burned to a crisp.
It was so brief I almost missed it, but I swore there was a gleam of satisfaction in my little sister’s eyes. As if she knew the Wretch was beneath her, and that it would be an easy kill. The flicker stopped suddenly, and the fire left Dro’s hand. The hellfire began to die down, leaving the Wretch as nothing but a heap of smold
ering ash. Dro made her way toward me, then looked at something down the stretch of road. She came to a stop and stared with horrified eyes.
I turned my head to see what was scaring her, and saw my nightmares.
They walked down the street like they owned it. I wasn’t sure they didn’t.
The man on the left was built like a linebacker that drank steroids for every meal. He was at least six foot three, his entire body made up of bulky muscle. He still wore his black duster and dark pants, but they did little to hide all the guns and knives he carried. Dark stubble was on the top of his head and his chin. His eyes were pits of black.
The man on the right was younger, but I recognized him all the same. He was still handsome, though his hair was shorter, stubble was growing around his mouth, and his eyes were much colder. They didn’t hold the same passion I once adored. Now they only looked furious and dangerous. He looked bigger than the last time I’d seen him, his muscles straining his black tactical uniform. His gloved hand was wrapped around a machete.
My knees almost buckled when I saw the man in the middle, out of fear as much as lust. He was the most stunning creature I had ever seen. Even more beautiful than Dro. He was seven feet tall, with pale, flawless skin that looked almost marbled. His broad, muscular body was hidden under a perfectly smooth white suit that hid his four bat-like wings. Glorious white hair streamed down his back He was wearing so much white that he was like a beacon of light. Like the true Morning Star. The only darkness about him was his eyes. Solid black from lid to lid, shining like obsidian.
Drake Talbot, the man who had stabbed me twice, tormented my friends, and killed my mentor. Mateo Rocha, my ex-lover who betrayed me and shot me when I left him.
Lucifer, the King of Hell. The being that wanted to take over Heaven, who ripped my little sister’s rib from her body for a ritual, and would do anything to have her back.
The monster who was Dro’s father.
Chapter 7
Terror made my heart expand and contract so sharply I swore I was having a heart attack.
This can’t be real, I told myself. This has to be a nightmare. This isn’t happening.
Lying to myself was no use. They were here, and they weren’t going to leave until Lucifer took Dro and the rest of us were dead at his feet. There was no point in running. I wasn’t even sure I could move yet.
A loud snap made me jump. I looked to see Warrick standing beside me, the sawed-off shotgun in his hands and a furious look in his bright green eyes. He must have taken care of the rest of the Possessors before coming over here. He didn’t even see Mateo or Lucifer. All he could focus on was Drake. The big bounty hunter smiled at his enemy.
“Still kickin’, Johnny-boy? That’s good. I would’ve been pissed if someone offed you before I did.”
Drake’s cruel voice pulled me into reality. I put myself in front of Dro so it would be harder for Lucifer to see her. The King of Hell looked right through me. A shudder wracked my body. He wasn’t even trying to push power onto me. I was human, and I could still feel it twisting around me like smoke.
I was frightened that he would annihilate me. But I also wanted him to. There would be a strange, sick satisfaction in being destroyed by something as powerful as Lucifer.
Stop it, Con. Don’t let him get to you.
The three of them stopped walking about ten feet away from us. The next couple moments felt like hours, each side waiting for the other to make its move, and sizing each other up until it happened. Every second that ticked by made me even more nervous. What were they waiting for? Something about this wasn’t right.
Seph, get back here, we could really use that teleporting thing right now.
I turned my head to Mateo. It was impossible to remember why I loved him in the first place. He looked icy and furious, and I knew that there wasn’t any good in him. Not where it mattered. Not anymore.
“So you made good on your promise, huh?” I said with a heavy amount of disdain. At least it made my voice sound steady. “Went to work for Satan after all?”
Mateo didn’t blink. He just stared at me with a frozen hatred that would never thaw. I looked at Drake next, carefully keeping my eyes away from Lucifer, though I could feel his tempting and terrifying power rushing through me like a wave. I gripped my hatchet so tight it hurt.
“You too?” I asked Drake. “Thought you might move down in the world?”
Manny’s killer grinned at me. It was the same smile he’d given me before he slid his knife into my ribs.
“Working for the Devil pays better.” He lowered his chin, his eyes looking almost as black as his master’s. “And it’s a lot more fun.”
“Persuasion was not a necessary tactic,” Lucifer said. His voice was beautiful, deep, and seductive. Nothing in the universe sounded as exquisite as the Devil. “Drake Talbot was all too eager to join us. But Mateo Rocha did not need to be asked. You caused him deep grief when you killed his father. When I told him you were still alive, he immediately gave himself over to me. All he had to do was wait for my return.”
I knew Lucifer’s obsidian eyes were on me as I spoke, but I pretended not to hear him. A very hard thing to do when your mind and soul are being smothered with a power that makes you want to beg for mercy while howling for pleasure. Since the topic had switched to Mateo, I turned my attention to him. He was the easiest one for me to concentrate on.
“But you couldn’t even wait for that,” I told my ex-lover bitterly. “You hired Drake to find me.”
“Don’t make this worse, Constance,” Mateo snapped, barreling right over my statement. “Hand Dro over, and you might live.”
I shook my head. “You still think asking me that is going to work? I thought you were smarter than that, Mateo.”
“I am. But I figured I would give you a chance. Then you wouldn’t have to go through this.”
He turned his head to the right, looking at the top of the buildings. We all looked with him.
It jumped just as I finished turning, moving faster than anything I’d ever seen. It landed on the hood of the car Warrick had been beside earlier. Metal crunched and glass exploded onto the pavement it as the demon landed, breaking the vehicle nearly in half. It slowly picked itself up, and suddenly I understood why Warrick had been nervous and Sephiel had been afraid.
The Knight was about six feet tall and nearly as broad. It was covered in black, metal armor that made it look like an onyx Templar. The armor was pieced together like a snake’s scales, inscribed with endless, jagged symbols. Two wide black bat wings protruded from its back. It held a tall, serrated scythe in the gloved gauntlet of its right hand. A pointed helmet similar to a medieval jouster’s covered its face, the lower half completely hiding its mouth, leaving two small slits on the upper half so the demon could see. Smoke billowed out of the eye slits and crevices of the helmet. Beyond them were two burning red eyes that blazed as the Knight stared at us, powerful and horrific.
Its eyes stopped on my sister.
I kept her behind me, holding my hatchet firmly in my hand.
The Knight jumped off the car, flapped its gigantic wings once, then landed four feet away from us. It was so close I could see the crude, dark red symbols etched onto its armor. Warrick stood close to me, turning his shotgun on the Knight. His shotgun blast was probably going to be as useful as a shot of elastic bands, but the thought was nice.
The armored demon took one large step forward, dragging its scythe along the ground. Metal screeched over concrete as it got closer. I tried to focus on its armor, to see if there were any cracks I could exploit, but all I could think about was how easily it could cut me down, how one swipe would slice both me and Warrick in half, and that there would be no one to protect Dro and Max–
He blinked into existence right in front of us. He snapped up his hand and fired a shot of gold heavenfire at the huge demon. It struck the creature in the chest and knocked it back.
Bloodstains and open wounds covered the back of h
is white coat, like he had been ruthlessly whipped, but none of that would stop Sephiel. I didn’t have to see his face to know his bright blue eyes were filled with defiance.
The Knight shook off the blast and raised its scythe. A puff of dark smoke filtered out of its helmet, red eyes burning like coals. It crouched, about to spring.
A harsh noise filled my ears, so awful I winced. Someone might as well have shoved glass into my eardrums. That was what demon-tongue sounded like when Lucifer spoke.
The Knight instantly pulled out of its crouch, resting the curve of the scythe on the road again. Sephiel watched it, holding his broadsword with both hands. He wasn’t going to turn his back on it for a single second.
Then Lucifer spoke English.
“An angel that willingly fell. Such a thing is unthinkable to the Host. Yet here you stand, Sephiel, with three humans, and mine and Everiel’s child.”
I didn’t know what an angry Sephiel was like. With us, he was always patient, kind, and understanding. The most he ever got was annoyed or concerned. He hadn’t even been angry when Rorikel betrayed and tried to kill us.
But Rorikel wasn’t Lucifer. He wasn’t the one who captured, raped, tortured, and caused the death of the woman Sephiel had loved for thousands of years. He wasn’t the one who was standing there taunting Sephiel about leaving Heaven for us. He wasn’t the one claiming Dro belonged to him.
Sephiel twisted his head to Lucifer. Blood covered his chest and face, but there was no fear or exhaustion in his eyes. Only a pure, unfiltered rage.
“Do not speak her name, demon,” Sephiel threatened in a voice that scared even me. “Do not dare.”
The rest of us, even Drake and Mateo, stared at the angel and the Devil. We were all subdued by the sheer fury in Sephiel’s voice. On my worst day, I could never sound that pissed off. I knew he was beyond angry with Lucifer for what he’d done, but I didn’t think that anger could border on such a ruinous level. Sephiel sounded like he was ready to cut the world in half if it meant killing his mortal enemy.
