The Angel Trials- The Complete Series

by Michelle Madow

  “Did Amber used to come with you on your hunts?” I asked.

  “You mean before Azazel murdered Amber’s sister so he could force her to track your mom’s location for him to kidnap her?” Noah asked.

  “Yeah,” I said, my voice clipped. I hated the reminder of Azazel and what he’d done. “That’s exactly what I mean.”

  “No.” He clenched his fist, as if holding an imaginary blade. “Sage and I hunt alone. At least, before you came along—”

  “And ruined everything for you,” I continued before he had a chance, rolling my eyes to show how tiring these constant reminders were getting. “I know, I know.”

  “That wasn’t what I was going to say,” he said.

  “Really?” I eyed him up, not believing him for a second. “Then what were you going to say?”

  He smirked, looking way too self satisfied for his own good. “You’ll never know now, will you?”

  It took all of my self-control not to stand up and storm back to the bedroom. Luckily, I was able to rein it in. Saving my mom was worth putting up with Noah’s instigating.

  “Oh my God.” Sage pulled at her hair and leaned back into the sofa, flopping her arms down beside her. “Do you want to hear about the witch or not?”

  “Yes,” Noah and I said together again.

  I glared at him out of the side of my eye. The way we were saying things at the same time was getting seriously annoying.

  If I didn’t know any better, I’d think it was a sign we were on the same wavelength or whatever.

  Good thing I knew better.

  “All right.” Sage looked back and forth between Noah and me like we’d both grown second heads. I couldn’t blame her, since that was what—the third time we’d said something at the same time in the past day? But she cleared her throat and continued without mentioning it. “The most powerful witch in New Orleans goes by the name ‘The Voodoo Queen,’” she said. “Amber wouldn’t tell me her real name—just that we’re to address her with her official title.”

  “Seriously?” I raised an eyebrow. I couldn’t picture myself addressing anyone like that without laughing.

  “Seriously,” Sage said. “Some supernaturals can be a bit… eccentric. Especially the witches.”

  “Mostly the witches,” Noah added.

  “Anyway,” Sage continued. “The Voodoo Queen and the witches in her circle work nearby at the Voodoo Queen Store. They use the store as a front for their business of selling both light and dark magic to the supernaturals of New Orleans.”

  “Great.” Noah sat forward and fidgeted in place, looking ready to get moving. “So we’ll head there now?”

  “I thought you wanted to shower first?” I asked. “Or were you just goading me with that comment about the hot water?”

  “Don’t get so riled up, Princess,” he said. “We don’t have to rush. I just thought you wanted to finish up this hunt as quickly as possible.”

  I glared at his sarcastic endearment—I was so not the princess type. “You know I do,” I said.

  He nodded in response, his gaze not leaving mine. There was something about the way he was looking at me… like he truly cared.

  I shook the thought out of my mind and looked away. Noah didn’t care about me. I was just an annoyance to him. Whatever I thought I saw, I was clearly imagining it.

  “I’d be up for leaving now,” Sage said, breaking the tension between Noah and me. It was a good thing she was here—the two of us would have been a mess without her. “But the Voodoo Queen doesn’t start working until after sunset. So Raven’s right—we should use this time to freshen up and get some sleep.”

  I wanted to say that I wasn’t tired—I was too wound up to sleep—but I held my tongue. Because Noah’s first rule of demon hunting flashed through my mind. The one he’d told me when we were back at the pool house, right after he’d let me join his hunt.

  When there’s an opportunity to sleep, take it.

  Because you never knew when your next chance to sleep would be.

  8

  Flint

  Getting Sage back home was going to take longer than anticipated. So I had no choice—I had to talk to Azazel.

  Like the other times I’d spoken with the greater demon, we met in an abandoned warehouse in East LA. This wasn’t the location of his lair—that was elsewhere. Given his ability to teleport, his lair could be anywhere in the world.

  He wouldn’t reveal its location until the blood binding ceremony was complete.

  Mara was there too, standing by my side. She wore a long red dress, her blonde hair flowing over her shoulders.

  Azazel liked Mara to be present whenever we spoke. It was like he didn’t want me to lose sight of what I stood to lose if I didn’t follow through on my word.

  “I need more time,” I said after telling him that Sage had gotten away. “I underestimated my sister, but I won’t make the same mistake twice.”

  Azazel simply stared at me, his red eyes darkening.

  I was never scared by anything, but I had to admit—the first time I saw the red eyes of a demon, I was scared.

  That changed the moment I imprinted on Mara.

  How could I be scared of eyes so similar to those of the woman I loved?

  “You never told me why your sister left town.” Azazel finally broke the silence between us. “At first, I didn’t think much of it—I have more important concerns—but now you have me curious. So tell me, Flint.” He stepped forward and brought his hands together, cracking all his knuckles at once. The popping sounds were like nails on a chalkboard to my sensitive shifter hearing, but I held my breath and stopped myself from flinching. “Why did your sister leave this city, and who is she traveling with that’s strong enough to help her fight off a pack of coyotes with a mountain lion dyad?”

  I swallowed, glad I’d already thought of a cover story for Sage. After all, I certainly couldn’t tell Azazel that she was helping Noah—the First Prophet of the wolves of the Vale—on his demon hunting quest. The demons thought Noah had died in the war at the Vale—the war where the Hell Gate had been opened and the demons had burst onto Earth. If Azazel knew Noah was alive, and that my sister was helping him kill demons to steal their teeth for entrance to Avalon… well, I doubted he would take too kindly to Sage, blood binding ceremony or not.

  “She imprinted with a wolf from a rival pack.” I scrunched my nose as if something smelled bad and added the appropriate amount of annoyance to my tone. It wasn’t tough to muster up. Because if this story were true, it wouldn’t have been the first time that Sage had tried to get involved with someone that I—her older brother, and more importantly, her alpha—didn’t approve of. “She hasn’t mated with him yet—I doubt she would defy me that greatly. But she’s run off with him to prove a point. I underestimated her and her companion against the coyotes, but I won’t repeat that mistake. They’ve stopped over in New Orleans for a few nights, but once they leave, I’ll get her back home and have that mutt she’s shacking up with taken care of.”

  Azazel paused and tilted his head, the corner of his lip twitching into a slight smile. Was he… amused? “I don’t know, Flint,” he finally said. “This sister of yours sounds like more trouble than she’s worth.”

  “His sister is strong.” Mara stepped up, her eyes level with Azazel’s. “Isn’t strength exactly what you desire from your shifter followers?”

  “Mara is correct.” I took her hand and pulled her to my side, letting her know I could take it from here. “Sage fighting off those coyotes with their mountain lion dyad shows her strength. She’s also smart and relentless. She’s exactly the type of ally you’ll want in the years to come.”

  Azazel said nothing, and I held my breath, terrified he wouldn’t be patient enough to wait for me to retrieve Sage.

  What would I do if that were the case?

  I couldn’t desert my sister. But I also couldn’t give up my future with Mara.

  He had to give me more time. He jus
t had to.

  “It certainly sounds like your sister has qualities I’m searching for,” he said, and I relaxed slightly, able to breathe once more. But only slightly, since he hadn’t voiced his decision yet. “If this shifter she’s imprinted on is anything like her—which from what you said, he is—it sounds like he’s what I’m looking for, too. So why have him ‘taken care of?’ Why not bring him here and give your sister similar terms to those I’m giving you with Mara?”

  He didn’t need to spell it out for me to understand what he meant. The term he had for me and Mara was that he’d only permit us to mate once the blood binding ceremony was complete. I hated that he had the power to permit me to do anything—I was an alpha, for crying out loud. My instinct was to simply take Mara as my mate and call it a day. With her consent, of course—which I knew I had.

  But this was war. If I gave into my instinct to mate with Mara now, Azazel would surely kill me and my pack. I needed to do whatever it took to keep us safe from the demons. If that meant allying with them and submitting to Azazel, then so be it. Plus, I’d have Mara in the end. So it wasn’t so bad.

  Now Azazel wanted the same terms with Sage and this imaginary man she’d imprinted on.

  The problem was that she’d never imprinted on Noah—she never had and never would. And if I knew anything about the First Prophet of the Vale, he’d rather die than enter into a blood binding ceremony with the very creatures he was trying to kill.

  “That’s not a bad idea, Your Grace,” I said. That was how Azazel insisted I address him—as Your Grace. It went against my instinct as an alpha to defer to anyone in such a way, but I went along with it for Mara. “But I had an idea that I’m sure you’ll appreciate even more.” I lowered my eyes after speaking, not wanting Azazel to think I was going against him in any way.

  “Really?” Azazel stepped forward, looking ready to strangle me if my suggestion disappointed him. “What, exactly, is that?”

  I gazed back up at him, making sure to look as determined as I felt. “My sister deserves better than the mutt she’s imprinted on,” I said. Again, I put the appropriate amount of disgust into my tone. Then I turned to Mara and smiled, not having to fake anything when I looked at my beautiful demon. The desire I felt toward her was real, and I knew it shined in my eyes when I refocused on Azazel. “Which is why I’m hoping she’ll imprint on a demon.”

  Azazel blinked, clearly taken aback by my response. But he got ahold of himself so quickly that someone without enhanced senses wouldn’t have noticed. “I understand why you’d want your sister to mate with a demon,” he said slowly. “We are, after all, the superior race. But it hasn’t slipped my notice that since Mara imprinted on you, she’s become emotionally weaker. I tolerate it because the alliance with the Montgomery shifters will add to my numbers, and you promised to go through with the blood binding ceremony if I allow her to mate with you afterward. But how will it help me if another one of my demons imprints and mates with a shifter? Because from where I’m standing, I fail to see how it would.”

  His point was legitimate.

  “You’re fair to ask such a thing,” I said, stalling as I came up with a response that might make sense. Luckily, it came to me a moment later. Because I understood his goal. Kill the supernaturals who don’t bind themselves to the demons, and take what remains of the human race as slaves.

  I could make his goals and my goals align. I had to. It was the only way to make sure Sage remained alive and safe.

  “As you said, the other supernaturals on Earth outnumber the demons,” I said. “You need this alliance—and alliances from other supernaturals as well. That way you can be confident that once you strike against the supernaturals standing against you, you’ll crush them. If the shifter community catches word that not just one of our kind, but two of us have imprinted and mated with demons, they’ll be more willing to open their minds to the possibility that they might imprint on one, too. And like you said, demons are the superior race.” The words tasted like acid when I spoke them, but feeding Azazel’s ego was necessary right now. “Once the other packs know that Sage and I have mated with demons and have therefore allied with the strongest force on the planet, they’ll be more than eager to follow in the Montgomery pack’s footsteps,” I concluded. “And isn’t that exactly what you want? More shifters to join your cause?”

  Azazel stared me down for the longest few seconds of my life. Then the corner of his lip pulled up into a small smile, and I knew I’d succeeded in convincing him to see things my way.

  “I do like the sound of that.” Azazel stepped forward, his eyes locked on mine in challenge. “But there’s one big hole in your plan.”

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  “How can you be so sure that your sister will imprint on a demon?”

  “My sister and I are of the same blood.” I stood straighter, puffing out my chest in pride. “If any other shifter has the chance of imprinting on a demon, it’s her.”

  “All right,” Azazel said.

  His words shocked me—I hadn’t expected it to be that easy. But I stopped myself from showing my surprise. “Really?” I asked.

  “You have a fortnight,” he said. “Get your sister back by then. If you can’t, we’ll proceed with the blood binding ceremony without her.”

  Azazel teleported out of the warehouse without another word, leaving me staring at the empty spot where he’d just stood—and more determined to get Sage back to LA than ever.

  9

  Flint

  “That went well,” Mara said once Azazel was gone. “All things considering.”

  “It did.” I pulled her toward me and crushed my lips to hers, unable to resist her now that the two of us were alone. I lost myself in her kiss for minutes. She tasted like she smelled—like a warm campfire on a winter night. Like a marshmallow you pull out of the flame at the perfect second, so it’s golden, crisp, and sweet. I didn’t want to ever let her go.

  When we finally broke apart, both of us were breathless.

  “I think I know why we were able to imprint on each other, despite being different species,” she whispered, her lips still tantalizingly close to mine.

  “Really?” I traced my finger over her cheek, barely able to focus with her so near. “And why’s that?”

  “I think it’s because we both have demon blood in us.”

  “What?” I pulled back in confusion. “I don’t have any demon blood in me.”

  “Yes you do…” She spoke slowly, her eyes lowered as if she thought she’d spoken too soon. “All shifters do.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I repeated. “Shifters have shifter blood. Not demon blood.”

  “Shifters have demon blood,” she said. “You should know this. Unless…” She paused and bit her lip, looking unsure if she should continue. Her lips were so red and plump—especially when she bit the lower one like that. I wanted to take her as mine right then and there.

  But even the desire pulsing through my body for my future mate couldn’t distract me from the shocking revelation she’d just dumped on me.

  “Go on,” I said, breathing steadily to calm myself. ‘Whatever you have to say, I can take it.”

  “I know you can,” she said. “I didn’t mean to imply you couldn’t. I’m just surprised, because it sounds like you don’t know how shifters were created in the first place.”

  “Shifters have existed for thousands of years,” I said. “We’re natural creatures of Earth, unlike the vampires, witches, and even the Nephilim. We belong here. We always have, and we always will.”

  “No,” she said. “Shifters aren’t natural creatures of the Earth. If anything, you’re most similar to the Nephilim. Because the Nephilim were created by drinking angel blood from the Holy Grail… and the shifters were created from drinking demon blood from the Dark Grail.”

  “Explain.” I blinked, unsure I heard right.

  “Which part?” She gazed up at me, her crimson ey
es swirling with knowledge—knowledge that only a creature born centuries ago could have.

  My future mate was truly extraordinary.

  “The Grails,” I said, unable to hide my disbelief as I spoke. “You’re saying that that Holy Grail actually exists?”

  “Oh, it exists,” she said with a knowing smile. “It’s the Holy Cup that the angels used to create the first Nephilim. And like all the four major holy objects, it has a dark counterpart. The Dark Grail.”

  “Which you’re saying was used to create the shifters,” I said, the possibility still not completely sinking in. Because if this was true, it meant everything I’d always thought I’d known about myself—about my species—was a lie.

  “I’m not ‘just saying’ it,” she said. “It’s a fact. All demons know about the Dark objects. Just as all Nephilim knew about the Holy objects. Or knew about them, before the Nephilim were wiped out.”

  “And where’s this Dark Grail now?” I asked.

  “Locked somewhere in Hell.” She shrugged. “Just like the Holy Grail was locked in Heaven.”

  “Hm.” I glanced around the warehouse, unwilling to simply accept this. I believed that Mara believed the Grails existed. But they sounded more like items of legend to me than anything else.

  So I returned my focus to what she’d previously said—that shifters were created by demons, and therefore had demon blood. It was a jarring thought, since it went against everything I ever knew. But I also knew that Mara wouldn’t lie to me.

  “Up until you and me, shifters could only imprint on other shifters,” I said, still trying to make sense of this shocking revelation. “But if it’s true that shifters have demon blood, it could explain why we were able to imprint on each other.”