by Ching, G. P.
“I’m starving,” she said finally. “Let’s go check if there’s food left in the RV.” Abigail threaded her fingers with his and led him from the kitchen. She climbed the stairs and passed through the tunnel to the rectory. The sun hadn’t broke the horizon yet but the sky glowed a soft winter’s gray behind the dormant trees in the courtyard. Gideon stopped her at the door, looking both ways to make sure the courtyard was safe before taking Abigail’s hand and leading her toward the RV.
He paused halfway across. “Did you see that?”
Abigail shook her head, looking in the direction he was facing.
“I thought I saw someone.”
“Is that Gabriel?” Abigail asked, squinting, but her human vision was too dull to make out the figure standing in the distance. Still, she knew an angel when she saw one. She could practically feel the warm glow of his presence all the way across the yard. She took a step toward him. “Do you think he has a message for us?”
Gideon scowled. “Look where he is, how he’s standing. When I was an angel, that’s not how I would deliver a message. It’s how I would deliver a—”
“Warning,” Abigail finished. She launched her leaden body back toward the door pulling Gideon behind her, but it was too late. The Watcher swooped down from the sky, talons ripping through her right side and knocking her from Gideon’s grip. She landed on her hip on the frozen ground, her body rotating on instinct to protect her young. As soon as she could catch her breath, she screamed as loud and as long as she could manage.
Gideon found a metal rod in the rubble and positioned himself between her and the Watcher, who seemed almost entertained by the display. Gideon thrust at the creature’s heart. The thing laughed, then broke apart in a ripple of darkness, forming behind Gideon. Before he could react, the beast’s wing swept him into the air.
“No!” Abigail cried. But a word couldn’t stop the scene in front of her. Gideon rose ten, twenty feet, and then dropped onto the rubble near the rectory. His leg snapped, bending at an unnatural angle, before his body rolled off the broken brick, over wood beams and jagged stones. Abigail watched in horror as his head smacked a sharp piece of rubble and red blood sprayed. The Watcher licked its lips and moved in for the kill. Gideon moaned but did not get up.
Abigail scrambled to her feet, grasping the nearest object she could lift, a chunk of concrete the size of a bowling ball. “Hey!” she yelled. The Watcher turned, and she hurled her weapon with everything she had.
The chunk bounced harmlessly off the Watcher’s chest. Two yellow snake eyes locked onto her. The beast sniffed the air, smelling her fear. Licking its lips, it continued toward Gideon, cloven hooves crunching on the frozen grass.
Helplessly, Abigail screamed as the beast reached Gideon, lifting his limp body. His head was bleeding and one of his legs dangled in the wrong direction. Eyes fluttering, his hand clenched as if he was trying to fight, but he was too injured.
“No! No!” she cried. The Watcher’s teeth clamped down on Gideon’s neck. Blood sprayed from the wound, showering the courtyard.
The world tilted. Abigail’s butt hit the ground, black spots swirling in her vision. Then, a miracle. A knife flew from the door of the rectory into the Watcher’s neck. The thing howled, the blessed knife steaming. Gideon’s body hit the ground as the Watcher reared. Lillian and Jacob sped from the door, racing for the beast with weapons drawn.
The Watcher made a hasty retreat, barreling toward Abigail in the process of dodging Jacob’s blade. The beast wasn’t fast enough. Jacob’s holy water sword sliced through its chest, causing the black flesh to bubble and sizzle. Still, the creature reached for her. Then the unthinkable. As the Watcher came apart piece by infected piece, it looked straight at her and hurled.
Fiery vomit heralded the fallen angel’s end. The beast came apart like a popped balloon full of oil. But that last breath, that last spew of magic, hit Abigail from bottom rib to neck. She dropped as the pain moved in, gasping for breath. Her body seized. The pain didn’t stop at her torso, it wrapped around her abdomen and squeezed. Warm and wet flowed down her leg.
“Oh my God, Jacob, help. We’ve got to get her to Malini.” Lillian’s arm was under her shoulder, lifting.
“Gid…” Abigail cried, but her mouth filled with blood.
“Don’t speak. Dane and Ethan are helping Gideon. We need to get you to Malini.”
Whisked through the rectory door, she closed her eyes against the pain. The next time she opened them, Malini was hovering over her, forehead wrinkled and jaw tight.
“We have to deliver the baby, Abigail. You have to push.”
Grace was there too, holding one of her hands, and Lillian the other. Both women wore matching grimaces. They sat her up. She was on the island in the kitchen, covered in a sheet and nestled in pillows. Malini was holding her knees apart, one of her hands noticeably burnt. She’d been trying to heal her, but Abigail didn’t understand. She wasn’t healed. In fact, her entire body screamed in pain.
“Now push!” Grace cried.
Abigail did, with everything she had. Her eyes rolled back in her head.
“Her blood pressure is dropping,” Lillian said frantically. “Can’t you do something?”
“I tried!” Malini said. “All of my healing energy is taken by the baby. It’s as if her body is feeding it to her abdomen. I can’t heal her until we deliver this baby.”
Digging deep, Abigail tried to stay conscious. Human women had babies every day. She needed to do this. Another contraction gripped her, a massive snake constricting her middle.
“Push!” Grace said.
Abigail obeyed.
“I see hair,” Malini said excitedly.
Another contraction came and then another and another. They piled on top of each other until Abigail screamed. The pain was so great, she was only vaguely aware of the women around her shouting with excitement. Over the sheet, her daughter appeared. She’d been right! A girl.
There was a bustle of activity. Something was wrong. The baby was the wrong color. Lillian rushed to Malini’s side.
“Hope!” Abigail rasped.
“Hope?” Grace asked.
“Her name is Hope,” Abigail said more clearly.
Grace patted her shoulder. “A perfect name. Try to relax, Abigail. She’s in good hands. You did a good job.” Grace lowered her to the pillows. “Just rest for a minute. Hope will be in your arms before you know it.” The woman brushed her hair back from her face.
The most beautiful sound cut through the kitchen, a baby’s cry. Malini and Lillian cheered. Grace squealed with joy.
Abigail’s eyes locked on her baby girl, her mouth bending into a painful smile. Her entire body began to shake. Grace grabbed her shoulders. Lillian shouted something and Malini’s hand reached for her, but the few feet between her and the girl might as well have been an ocean. Pain rocked her chest, and then…
Darkness. Silence.
A blink later, she was standing next to the table, staring at a door. It was a beautiful door, white with gray scrollwork. A familiar face waited beside it.
“Henry?”
“It’s time, Abigail.”
“Time?” Abigail looked over her shoulder. The scene was frozen. Lillian pressed two hands over Abigail’s heart. Grace was attempting to give her body air, pinching her nose and covering her mouth with her own. Malini held Hope with one arm while she tried her best to heal with the other. But you couldn’t heal the dead.
“I’m dead?” Abigail whispered.
“Yes.”
“But Hope? Gideon?”
“Hope has a purpose here, and Gideon is waiting for you.”
“Waiting?”
Henry held out his hand. Abigail placed her fingers in his and stepped forward. He opened the door for her. Light and warmth washed through the opening, the sound of children’s laughter drawing her forward into the beyond. Cherry blossoms floated in the air, welcoming her in like a ticker tape parade. And there he was.
“Gi
deon?”
He held open his arms and smiled. She ran into them, joy flooding her as he swept her into his embrace. For a moment, she could still see the kitchen through the crack in the door. She threaded her fingers with his. “We have a daughter, Gideon.”
“I know. You named her Hope,” he said.
The door closed, and then there was nothing but joy, warmth, and light. And Gideon. Forever.
Chapter 28
The Watcher
Earlier that day…
Cord was late for work. Again. Lucifer would tie his entrails in a bow if he wasn’t careful. Harrington Enterprises needed leadership, and Auriel would use his lateness as an excuse to cover up her own laziness if she had the opportunity. The days of lounging around Nod, feeding on captured humans, were over. And, while he believed that if Lucifer won this challenge things would be infinitely better for him, he hated the present, hated the expectations and responsibilities.
The new Harrington Demon Eradication Systems required constant monitoring. Oh, the systems themselves were never intended to work. It was the Watchers who needed monitoring. Cord’s job was to keep his brethren from attacking anyone with an HDES sign or talisman. But Watchers weren’t keen on denying themselves an easy meal. Cord’s work was difficult and constant. Living this way, he might as well have remained an angel.
He should go now. He should finish his morning walk to the Harrington building and get started. The glow on the horizon meant his illusion would break soon. A few blocks more and he’d be safely inside his dark office.
The problem was a deep and unused instinct kept him riveted to a particularly mundane square of sidewalk in front of a boarded-up church. A strange scent had drawn him here, the long-forgotten essence of sunrise, citrus, and ocean, the indescribable musk of Heaven. There was an angel nearby. He’d bet his life on it. While staying here a moment longer might cost him, he couldn’t pass up a battle with an angel. So, he stayed, using his senses to narrow in on the smell.
A delicious scream pierced the predawn. Cord took to the air, landing in the upper branches of a tree with the best view of the church courtyard. He’d destroyed this place days ago. Rubble peppered the yard where a Watcher hunted a pregnant woman and her mate. He couldn’t make out who the Watcher was, nor did he care. No HDES sign here. The Watcher could eat whom he pleased. The quarry, however, ignited his interest. Cord licked his lips. A pre-work snack might be nice. He leaned out from the tree, prepared to swoop down to join the feeding.
The Watcher swept the man into the air. His body landed with a tenderizing thunk on the rubble. The woman screamed again, the air perfumed with her fear, then moved from her position to toss a chunk of concrete at her attacker’s chest. When she advanced, Cord got a good look at her face.
Abigail! Oh, the praise he’d receive if he brought her back alive. Now that he looked more closely, the man was Gideon. If the two of them were here, and she was with young, it was almost certain there were other Soulkeepers nearby. A perfect opportunity to slaughter them all!
Then again, the scene seemed too convenient. Perhaps the entire fight was a trap. The Soulkeepers had so many tricks up their sleeves. He must not rush in. He prized himself too much to risk injury.
Cord made himself comfortable in the branches, waiting to see how things played out below. He would attack when it would cause the most damage with the least consequences.
Stealthily, he watched, and he was rewarded when two Soulkeepers came to Abigail’s aid. She was still alive. Lucifer would want her that way if Cord could manage it. Gideon, on the other hand, was dead. The redheaded twin Soulkeepers emerged to retrieve his body. Cord growled. That one—the one with the mole on the right instead of the left—she was the Soulkeeper who had impersonated him. He gritted his teeth. If nothing else, he would enjoy killing her. She’d cost him dearly.
He waited until all of the Soulkeepers were inside, and then flew to the ground next to the bubbling black remains of the Watcher who’d failed in his attempt at a meal. Cord followed through the door he’d seen the Soulkeepers take the bodies. The room was pleasantly dark, and he slipped into shadow, folding from one corner to another until he found their hiding place.
“Lillian, hold her up,” Malini commanded.
What luck! Abigail was delivering. Cord blended into a dark corner to watch. He’d wait until the spawn was born, then slaughter the Soulkeepers one by one. He had a grand daydream of capturing Abigail, and then forcing her to watch while he ate her baby for breakfast. Lucifer would be pleased. The challenge would be as good as won.
He waited in the shadows through the moaning and the pushing. So much blood. His mouth salivated. Patience, he said to himself. Soon enough.
The young arrived, and the woman, Lillian, raced to Malini’s side. He couldn’t see what the two were doing to the infant from the safety of his shadow. The Healer and the Horseman worked over the babe, blocking his view with their bodies while the Helper, Grace, stayed back to tend to Abigail. The former Watcher had taken on the stink of death. Cord wondered if there would be anything left to return to Lucifer.
A sharp cry filled the space. Death stood at Abigail’s bedside. Crap. Lucifer would not be happy to learn she’d passed on. There was nothing he could do. The death was done.
He watched her pass through her door into the beyond. When he looked back, the baby was wrapped in a blanket like a burrito. He licked his lips, thinking of the sweet blood and tender flesh. Oh, how he was going to enjoy this, with or without the audience of her mother.
The three women blubbered over Abigail’s body. He’d kill them all now if not for the Healer. She posed a problem and required caution. No, he’d wait for the perfect opportunity. He’d pick them off when they least expected.
The Healer walked into the main room and announced Abigail and Gideon’s death to the other Soulkeepers. Pitiful sobs filled the space. Cord rolled his eyes.
Malini handed the baby to the redheaded girl named Bonnie. He slipped through the shadows to get a closer look, baring his fangs.
“Please take her, Bonnie. I just … can’t.” Malini wiped under her eyes. “I need to find Father Raymond. We’ll have to find a place to bury the bodies.”
More blubbering. Sick.
“Dane?”
“Ye-ah.” The boy’s voice cracked.
“Can you and Ethan go with Grace and Jacob to try to find some formula for Hope?”
He nodded, and the three climbed the stairs.
“Ghost, Cheveyo, Samantha, please go to the RV and bring back everything that’s not nailed down. When you are done, we need to hide that thing. We can’t have a rerun of today.”
Ghost blinked out of sight, and Samantha and Cheveyo followed up the stairs.
“Lillian is coming with me. You’ll be okay here by yourself?” Malini asked.
The one named Bonnie nodded her head, cradling the babe against her chest. The Healer left with the Horseman named Lillian.
Cord couldn’t have imagined a more advantageous scenario. He waited a moment to ensure the girl was truly alone. Then, he crept closer. The girl cooed to the baby, totally enthralled by the tiny human on her shoulder, while Cord gathered himself from shadow only inches behind her. How should he do it? Decapitation? Or maybe he should reach through her ribcage and tear out her heart?
No, he would taste her. He would taste each of them like a human box of chocolates. Cord opened his mouth to bite.
“Let’s see you,” Bonnie said, peeling back the blanket around the baby’s head.
As Cord lowered his fangs, Bonnie turned. His eyes locked with hers, then on the red stone around her neck, and then on the baby’s round, pink face pressed next to the gem. He couldn’t help it. Drawn into their gravitational pull, his entire body stiffened. He gagged. His fangs retracted, and he snapped his lips closed. Paralyzing pain gripped him like a vice. Cord’s limbs fell limp to his sides. His mind blanked.
Collapsing to his knees, his skin began to twitch with
tiny shocks of electricity. The physical discomfort paled in comparison to the ancient feeling that crept into his body—warmth, and empathy. No longer did he want to eat the baby. He wanted to hold her. He wanted to protect her. A blooming heat started behind his breastbone and radiated out, through his arms and legs, all the way to the tips of his fingers and toes.
Glancing down at his hands, his skin changed, pinked and then took on a slight glow. Before he could process what was happening, a heavy chain lassoed his neck and constricted. He saw a flash of red hair, and then the end of the chain smacked into his temple.
Chapter 29
Bonnie’s Prisoner
The baby was crying. Bonnie instinctively bounced Hope on her shoulder while she stared at her captive. At the end of the chain in her free hand was the Watcher called Cord. Her understanding ended there. Everything about the situation was weird. Wrong. Unexpected.
First, there was the way he remained on his knees in front of her. He didn’t struggle. He didn’t pull against the chain. Eyes wide, he gawked at her, arms limp, hands palm up on his thighs. She was prepared for more. Cord’s hand could shoot out at any moment and grab her ankle. He could snap poisonous fangs at the baby. Watchers could normally break apart into black mist, although the blessed chain should have prevented that particular scenario.
Which reminded Bonnie of an even stranger revelation. The chain around his neck, flush against his skin, should have burned. This chain was from Eden, soaked in holy water. She’d never used it before, and she didn’t think the effect wore off with use anyway. The blessed steel should have steamed against his Watcher flesh, but Cord seemed ambivalent to the chain, almost resolved to his capture.
“What are you?” Bonnie murmured.
Cord looked down at his open hands as if he didn’t know how to answer that question. If his actions and his immunity to holy water weren’t enough to set off her equilibrium, the smell did the trick. Citrus and fresh air, not the usual sulfur and saccharine stench of the fallen. Plus, his skin carried a faint glow.
