Angel Bonds

by Lexi C. Foss

  Everyone at the table voiced their agreement.

  Luc stood. “All right. The bastard played us once. Now it’s our turn. And I refuse to lose twice.”

  The energy in the room darkened, all the Elders craving John’s blood. He’d hurt too many people, including loved ones of those in the room. Tom’s father deserved this fate.

  He’s a monster.

  A terrorist.

  A cruel manipulator.

  But he’s also my father.

  Tom glanced out the window, his fingers curling into fists in his lap. He hated John Fitzgerald for all that he’d done. But a small, minute voice kept reminding Tom that he wouldn’t be here today had John not created him.

  He sent me to military school.

  He constantly tested my abilities by almost having me killed.

  He crafted me into the perfect weapon—for his own personal use.

  He hurt Amelia. Tortured her for years. Mercilessly.

  The list was endless, each point digging a deeper grave for the man who fathered Tom. There were no redeeming qualities, no reason for John to be kept alive.

  But would kidnapping and torturing the monster make any of them feel better? It wouldn’t change history. Sure, an outlet for everyone’s rage might help temporarily.

  Alas, wouldn’t tormenting someone change a person on a psychological level? Was that how John started down this path? And if Tom participated in his father’s persecution, would it drive him down the same path? Clearly, the malevolent genes lurked within him somewhere. What if these actions brought that side of him to the forefront?

  Tom shivered. I don’t want to become my father.

  A hand landed on his shoulder, Balthazar’s intense gaze yanking him from his thoughts. “You won’t.”

  Tom blinked. The others had already left for their tasks, leaving the two of them alone in the dining area. “Oh, sorry. I sort of—”

  “Do you remember the first time you took a life?” Balthazar interjected, his hand keeping Tom seated even as he tried to stand.

  A memory from Tom’s childhood sent a chill down his spine. “Yes.” He recalled the incident vividly, the way his father taunted him into pulling the trigger, the churning in Tom’s gut after the body fell lifeless to the floor. “I didn’t even know the man’s name. Or why.”

  “But you mourned the life you took afterward, right?”

  “I always do,” Tom replied, his throat constricting around each word.

  He always tried to avoid death when he could, just incapacitating the individual for long enough to escape. But on occasion, there was no other alternative. And even when those beings deserved their fates, Tom still grieved their passing.

  “It’s what keeps me human,” he added, recalling a similar conversation he had with Amelia after she killed Doctor Patel a few months ago. “It’s when you start enjoying the kill that you have something to be concerned about,” he’d told her.

  “And that’s where you and Jonathan are different,” Balthazar said quietly. “He enjoys hurting others. You do not.”

  “But I’m his son. What if that part of him is in me somewhere?”

  “I’ve overheard enough of your memories to know what your father did to you as a child. And yet, you survived all that with your heart intact. You know what that tells me, Tom?”

  He swallowed, shaking his head slowly. Thinking about his history churned his stomach, especially the upbringing Balthazar referenced. Tom preferred to avoid the topic, only mentioning it when the experience was relevant. Or when Amelia asked him something specific.

  “It tells me that your mom is just as much a part of you as Jonathan is. It tells me that you’re a good person, Tom.” He squeezed Tom’s shoulder and released him. “Unlike your father, you value love and family. Use that to empower you. I know you’ve been raised your entire life feeling like you didn’t belong anywhere, but you do belong here. You’re one of us. Allow our knowledge and guidance to sharpen your future, not your relation to a soon-to-be dead man.”

  Tom sat, stunned. He hadn’t realized how much he needed to hear that until Balthazar said it.

  I belong here.

  His father constantly taunted him that he would never be accepted anywhere, not by the Hydraians and definitely not by the Ichorians. However, not only had the Elders proven his dad wrong but they’d also allowed Tom into the/their inner circle. They trusted him. This meeting today proved that—they’d included him because they valued his opinion and experience. And sure, it was mainly because he knew the most about John, but they also listened to him. They treated him as an equal, not an informant or a weapon, but an actual being of importance.

  “Thank you,” Tom said, some of the tension leaving his limbs.

  Balthazar nodded. “Anytime.” He started to leave, then paused on the threshold of the living area, turning back to meet his gaze. “And if you don’t want him to be tortured, Tom, then kill him. The others will get over it. Because if anyone has earned the right to deliver Jonathan’s judgment, it’s you.”

  32

  Issac

  Ezekiel paced, knives twirling dangerously in his hands. “Skye had a prophecy,” he explained. “She predicted Sethios’s death by Osiris’s hand.”

  “That’s impossible,” Gabriel replied calmly. “Seraphim don’t die, and Sethios has to be fully transitioned by now.”

  “Well, her prediction says otherwise,” Ezekiel replied, wild energy pouring off him in waves. “And I can’t find him anywhere on the property.”

  “It has to be a misunderstanding.” Gabriel studied him. “What exactly did Skye say?”

  “ ‘One power falls as another rises’ was her exact phrase. Then she blinked and told me Osiris was going to kill Sethios. I tried to find him to warn him, but he’s nowhere to be found. And the only way he could have left is if Osiris compelled him to.”

  Astasiya stiffened beside Issac, an image of a gravesite flashing through her thoughts. What is that? he asked, studying the vision.

  The nightmare I just had while knocked out, she breathed into his mind. You don’t think it’s my dad, do you? Like how my mom has projected to me from under the water?

  Show me again.

  More detail came through this time, the dirt siding and a pale blue sky. Some of Astasiya’s emotions trickled through with it as well, including a deep-seated need to pour cement over her limbs. He flinched at the sensation, causing her to pull back.

  Was that part of your dream? he wondered. That compulsion?

  She nodded, shivering. It felt… real.

  He opened his mouth to comment, but a buzzing in his pocket caught him off guard. “It’s Lucian,” he said. “I need to take this.”

  Tristan perked up from the kitchen, his ability to control sound allowing him to hear the call. Issac nodded his approval, knowing his best friend would want to be apprised of the Jonathan situation as well.

  “Tell him I’m bored and in need of something to destroy,” Alik requested from the dining area.

  Ignoring him, Issac answered the call. “Lucian. Ezekiel just arrived with news of another prophecy. It appears Sethios’s life is in jeopardy.”

  “Seraphim can’t die,” he replied, echoing Gabriel’s sentiments.

  “It seems Osiris may have found a way around it,” Issac said, eyeing the pacing assassin. Those knives in Ezekiel’s hands were a little too close to Astasiya for Issac’s comfort.

  “Unlikely,” Gabriel said, shaking his head. “It doesn’t make sense. You can dismantle a Seraphim and put him underground to cut off his access to the ethereal realm, but he’ll never die. The soul always finds a way back to the host.”

  Astasiya grabbed Issac’s knee, squeezing. “I think that’s what Osiris has done,” she breathed, her nightmare replaying again.

  Ezekiel stopped moving. “What do you mean?”

  “I… I had a nightmare, or a vision, while unconscious about a grave and pouring cement into it because… because someone t
old me to.” She shuddered. “It… it felt like when Mom talks to me.” The words came out on a whisper, her focus on Gabriel. “But I think, maybe… maybe it was my dad?” Do you think that’s why I felt so off at the CRF headquarters, Issac? Is that where the dread came from?

  You’ve never experienced that with your mom, have you?

  She shook her head. No. But maybe he—

  “Where were you in the dream?” Ezekiel demanded, cutting her off. “Describe it to me.”

  “I-I don’t know. I was already in the grave, with only the sky above me.”

  “Daylight? Night?” Ezekiel pressed, his panic tangible.

  Issac located the assassin’s mind and took control of his visual receptors to display the image Astasiya had shared. The man stumbled as a result, catching the back of a chair to stabilize himself near one of the open windows. He shook his head as if to clear it.

  “What the fuck is that? What just happened?”

  “You’re seeing the location from Astasiya’s nightmare,” Issac replied, showing every detail he recalled from her vision—the dirt, the sky, the sun. Even the cement pooling in the ground below.

  “How is that possible?” he asked, his breathing hitching. “I’ve seen enough. Turn it off.”

  “Of course.” Issac released Ezekiel’s vision, allowing him to see in the present again.

  “It’s the bond,” Gabriel said. “The rune Osiris gifted you only protects you from his creations, of which Issac no longer qualifies. He’s of the Seraphim realm now.”

  “Fascinating,” Lucian said into his ear. “Your power is already growing.”

  “Indeed,” Issac murmured, switching the phone between his hands so he could wrap his arm around Astasiya. She trembled against him, her father’s name repeating in her mind with a series of questions and scenarios. “Can you provide me with a quick update on Jonathan?” Issac asked, needing to return his focus to the woman at his side.

  “Fuck Jonathan,” Ezekiel interjected before Lucian could reply. “We have to find Sethios. Right now.”

  Gabriel shook his head. “We need Stas and she isn’t ready. She can’t even mist yet.”

  “Then fucking teach her,” Ezekiel snapped, his calm veneer disappearing into a heated wave of scalding emotion. “I’ve watched my best friend suffer for almost two decades, and I vowed that I would protect him. Now Skye has prophesized that he’s going to die. I can’t just sit back and wait. I’m done working at your pace, Gabriel. I’ve done everything you’ve asked, and I’m calling in all my favors today. Sethios needs us. He needs us now.”

  “He’s right,” Leela added, appearing in the doorway. “We’ve all done this your way, and while I agree that Stas has been raised adequately as a result, it’s time to rescue Sethios.”

  “It sounds like there’s a lot going on over there,” Lucian said quietly.

  Issac eyed the assassin glowering at a still-stoic Gabriel. “Understatement.”

  “Then I’ll be quick. Mateo just sent you a message that might be of use. Do me a favor and read it.” The casual way Lucian spoke had Issac’s curiosity piquing. The Hydraian King didn’t throw words around lightly. He always possessed a motive or a strategy of some kind.

  “One moment,” Issac replied, eyeing the screen. The messages weren’t from Mateo but from Lucian.

  Don’t outwardly react, the first one read.

  We discussed the mole situation and have narrowed it down to two culprits, potentially three. And you’re not going to like our findings.

  Issac typed back, Tell me.

  Based on timing and knowledge, Tristan is our primary suspect. Nadia and Clara are also potentials.

  Issac read the message four times before the words resonated. They were accusing most of the Ichorians currently residing in Hydria. Ichorians who had been friends and allies for decades, if not centuries.

  And Tristan?

  No bloody way.

  Issac knew his progeny better than anyone else. The man was his best friend. He glanced at him now, a note of concern touching his features. He’d obviously caught the request and wondered at the notes on the screen. Tristan was an ass, but not daft. He had to know Lucian meant to convey a message that he couldn’t overhear. And the hint of sadness creeping into his expression confirmed it.

  They all knew there was an informant among them. Tristan had been playing this game with Issac for a long time; he, out of anyone, would know what a secret message meant—a removal from the inner circle. It implied a lack of trust, something his progeny had done nothing to earn. Apart from being a bit rude lately.

  It’s not Tristan, Issac replied, refocusing on his phone. He’s loyal to a fault.

  “I’ll be outside,” his progeny informed him flatly, his shoulders stiff as he walked out the door. Alik followed him without a word, but Issac knew it wasn’t to talk to him. No. Lucian had assigned the Elder to watch the suspect, something Tristan would discern immediately.

  Fuck. Because Issac needed another problem to deal with at the moment.

  His phone buzzed with the response.

  We have an idea to test loyalties. Alik’s already been briefed. He and Tristan are headed to Calgary. Nadia is being told another address but will be taken to a third. And we have Jonathan’s actual location, which is the real reason I called.

  Issac’s heart skipped a beat. “You’re certain?” he asked out loud, the phone already at his ear again.

  “Positive,” Lucian replied. “We leave in thirty minutes.”

  Astasiya’s nails dug into his thigh, grabbing his attention. They found Jonathan, he told her.

  I’ve been following along, she whispered back to him. And I don’t know if you heard, but Stark just agreed to help Ezekiel find my father. They want to leave. Now.

  Issac lifted his gaze, realizing he’d tuned out the entire conversation around him.

  “…estate?” Gabriel asked, the initial part of the question lost to the harsh cadence beating in Issac’s ears. They had another opportunity to grab Jonathan, to finally make that bastard pay. He needed to leave now if he wanted to join them, to finally see his revenge come to fruition.

  “That’s where he was last,” Ezekiel replied.

  “Then that’s where we’ll start.” Gabriel focused on Astasiya. “You’re not ready to face Osiris, but we can’t do this without you. You’re the only one with the power to break Sethios’s compulsion.”

  Her lips parted, shock trickling through their connection. “B-but I don’t even know how to mist or even how to properly persuade. The last time I faced Osiris, we only won because he walked away.”

  Which now made a hell of a lot of sense knowing that Osiris wanted the Hydraians and Ichorians to fight on his side of a war against the Seraphim. Destroying the Elders would have removed some of the most powerful pawns from the board. Osiris needed them alive. Astasiya, too.

  “The power is in there; you just have to let it out,” Leela said softly.

  “And you expect me to do that by going up against Osiris?” she squeaked, her body tense beneath Issac’s arm. Have they lost their minds? I can’t do this, Issac. I… I want to, but this is insane.

  If anyone can do it, love, it’s you, he assured her, meaning it. You were born for this, Aya. You’re the most powerful being I’ve ever met.

  Aside from Osiris, she corrected. Or has everyone in this house forgotten him?

  Not all strength is measured in supernatural ability. You have love, darling. Osiris only has ego. He brushed her racing pulse with his thumb. You can do this, love. I know you can.

  She shook beside him, doubt and incredulity clouding her aura.

  “Issac?” Lucian’s voice reminded him of the phone in his opposite hand. He’d completely forgotten the task at hand when Astasiya reached for him, her need trumping everything and everyone else without cause.

  “My apologies,” Issac said, resituating the device against his ear. “The conversation here distracted me. Your information is
intriguing, though I question the accuracy.” Meaning the bit about whom they suspected.

  He trusted Tristan implicitly.

  Also, Nadia and Clara were family. Issac could not see either of them turning on Aidan. Of course, he didn’t know them as well anymore, having spent the better part of the last decade building his presence in New York City. A presence that had all but halted over the last month. Fortunately, he had a protocol in place for prolonged absences that kept his company in working order.

  “We’ll know more about the accuracy of our information soon,” he replied. “That said, we need to move on the information. Are you in or are you out?”

  Issac glanced at Gabriel and Leela before looking to Astasiya. Even terrified, he knew what decision she would make. Sethios was her father. Her loyalty would never allow her to let him down, even if she felt unprepared. The only reason she hesitated now was because her previous decisions on similar situations had ended badly. He could hear the concern in her thoughts—if she acted impulsively again, it might evolve into another horrendous outcome, and she refused to lose or hurt him.

  He sighed.

  She wasn’t the only one left without a choice, because he could never allow Aya to enter a dangerous situation without him by her side.

  “I’m needed here, Lucian,” Issac said quietly, his decision already made. When it came to supporting Astasiya or fulfilling his need for vengeance, he would always select the former. They were a team. Always. And for eternity. “I’m sorry.”

  “Given the circumstances, I understand and admire your resolve. But, Issac?”

  “Yes?”

  “Try not to get yourself killed. We need you alive.”

  Issac grinned. “Didn’t you hear, Lucian? I’m invincible now.”

  He snorted. “Don’t let that bullshit go to your head.” A pause. “Seriously, be safe. I need you, brother.”

  “Likewise, Lucian. Good luck.”

  “Not needed. You know I don’t lose without purpose.” Lucian hung up, sending through a message right after that read, I’ll send you the outcome as soon as I know.