by Ella Summers
“You collected them, but you have never used them, have you?” I asked her.
“No. We’ve been searching for years, but haven’t found anyone with the right magic to wield the daggers.”
“How long have you and the Magic Eaters been fighting over the daggers?”
“For much longer than I’ve been alive,” she replied. “The people of Nightingale call us raiders, but they are the real thieves. We are only taking back what they stole from us.”
“When did they come to this world?”
“Many times over many years.”
The Magic Eaters hadn’t told me and Damiel about that. Illias had claimed his people had neither the training nor the resources to complete such an operation, that they weren’t capable of going on the offensive to reclaim the immortal daggers from the Hive.
They’d just used me and Damiel, used the potential threat to Earth to get us to do their dirty work for them. To destroy their enemy, the Hive.
“The Magic Eaters are intent on collecting all the daggers,” Naida said. “They believe themselves entitled to the daggers and the power they hold. But the daggers are ours. Those relics belong to us, not to the people of Nightingale. We are the children of the Undying.”
“The Undying?” I asked.
“Powerful deities who lived long ago and wielded great magic.”
“You mean the powerful deities who ruled over most known worlds?”
“Yes. The Undying left behind these daggers for their descendants. For us. It is our duty to bring them together, to realize the message of the Undying.”
“What kind of message?” I asked.
“No one knows.”
“Those beings you call the Undying are known to the Magic Eaters and to us by another name,” Damiel told her. “We call them the Immortals.”
22
Angel Fury
“What do you know of the Undying?” Naida asked us with pleading eyes. She obviously hoped we had all the answers that she lacked.
“Very little,” said Damiel.
“And yet you can wield their relics. You must have Undying blood in you.”
“So we’ve been told,” I said.
“You do realize that you and the Magic Eaters worship the same deities,” Damiel pointed out to her.
A deep frown furrowed her brow. “What are you saying?”
“My statement was perfectly clear.”
“The Magic Eaters are heathens,” she hissed. “They don’t worship deities or build temples in their honor. They construct only large fortresses where they hoard their stolen treasures.”
“They say the same about you,” Damiel told her.
“Those buildings where the Magic Eaters keep their relics, like the daggers—those are their temples,” I added. “And in those temples, they worship the Immortals, or the Undying as you call them. Perhaps if you spoke to the Magic Eaters, you’d find that you have a lot more in common than you’d ever imagined.”
Naida’s face twisted in disgust. Her nose crinkled up like she’d smelled bad eggs. She looked thoroughly insulted, horrified by the idea that her people shared anything in common with the Magic Eaters, those they had fought for so many years.
She glanced at the sword of daggers in my hand. “It seems to be the will of the Undying that you two came here, that you would save us, that you would claim the daggers.”
The Hive really did have a lot in common with the Magic Eaters. Both were completely devoted to following their deities’ will, or at least what they believed to be their deities’ will. If they would just put their few minor differences between them, they could work together. They could be friends, not enemies.
I told Naida that.
“We have been fighting them for so long,” she replied. “Many lives have been lost. It will take time for both sides to put that behind us.”
“But you will put it behind you?”
“We’ll see. For now, we must concentrate on repairing relations closer to home.”
She was referring to the rebels and their fight against the Magic Collective.
“All this trouble with the rebellion could have been avoided if you’d only been honest about the true reason the Collective whisked all supernaturals away to the temples,” Damiel pointed out sensibly.
“We didn’t want to create widespread panic,” Naida said.
“Or someone in your organization did not want to share power.”
Naida frowned at him. “You are very cynical, aren’t you?”
“Of course. That’s my job.”
Rushing footsteps echoed on the stairs. I turned to find Grant standing frozen in the doorway to the Depository. When we’d broken the Hive’s magic, we’d also knocked out all the wards around the building.
“The battle is over,” Damiel told the rebel leader. “And so is the war.”
Grant watched his sister like he couldn’t believe she was right there in front of him.
“You want to heal your world,” I told Naida. “Start with him. Tell your brother the truth about what you’ve been doing all these years.”
Cold fury burned in Damiel’s eyes. “You lied to us.”
We were standing face-to-face with the Magic Eater priest Illias inside his home on Nightingale.
Jiro had already returned to New York, curtesy of a passage I’d whipped up with the Diamond Tear.
“You sent us to the Hive’s world to do your work for you,” Damiel continued. “We know you and the Hive have been stealing the daggers from each other for years.”
“Our conflict with the Hive is complicated.” Illias spread his hands wide, a gesture meant to defuse the situation.
Apparently, no one had ever told him that fancy hand gestures weren’t up to the task of defusing an angel.
“Complicated?” Damiel repeated. The word burned like dry ice. “You told us your people were not able to infiltrate the Hive’s fortress. That you had never done such a thing.”
“That is no lie,” replied the priest. “The Hive has recently upgraded their defenses. Since then, our forces have been unable to penetrate them.”
“You used us, spinning a lie that the Hive would attack Earth if we didn’t stop them.”
“It was a logical assumption, considering your previous encounter with them.”
A low, angry growl buzzed in Damiel’s throat. “You played us for fools.”
“Not fools. We simply appealed to your humanity.”
“We are angels. We gave up our humanity long ago.” Damiel turned his back on the priest and looked at me. “Come on. We’re going.”
“You took the Hive’s daggers.” Illias’s eyes fell on the five daggers Damiel and I carried.
“We didn’t take anything,” I told him. “They gave them to us freely.”
A crinkle formed between his eyes. “Why?”
“Because like you, they believe us to be the heirs to the Immortal Legacy. Because, you see, they too worship the same Immortals as you do.”
“Impossible,” Illias hissed, just as vehemently as Naida had rejected the revelation.
“The Hive knows the Immortals by a different name: the Undying,” I said. “But they are the same deities. You might want to get to know the Hive. To reconcile your differences.”
“Reconciliation is impossible.”
“You’ll have plenty of time to reevaluate your obstinance,” Damiel told him.
“What do you mean?” Fear crept into Illias’s voice.
“We’ve closed all passages from your world to others, except the one to the Hive’s world.”
“You can’t do this,” the priest spluttered. “You can’t trap us here like this, cut off from everyone else.”
Damiel straightened. His formidable presence seemed to fill the whole room. “You don’t tell me what I can and cannot do.”
The priest took a step back.
“If you want to visit another world, visit the Hive’s world,” said Damiel. “If you play nice,
they might even allow you to use their magic mirrors.”
“You reopened their magic mirrors?” Illias gasped. “That is a mistake! They will destroy your world!”
“No, they will not,” Damiel said flatly.
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because we saved theirs. And…” he added, glancing at me, “…we have faith.”
“Your faith in the Hive is misplaced. They will come for you.”
“If they do, I will be waiting.”
Damiel and I turned to go.
Illias moved in front of us, blocking our way. “You can’t leave us isolated like this.”
“If you wanted mercy, you shouldn’t have played us for fools,” Damiel told him coldly.
That was Angel Philosophy 101.
“If you behave yourselves, we might come back to let you out of cosmic purgatory,” Damiel said. “After a century or two.”
I returned us to Earth, to Storm Castle. This time, we didn’t land on my bed. We ended up in my office, just as I’d intended, one of us on either side of my big wooden desk. Damiel just stood there, not saying a word, but watching my every move.
“You sure gave Illias the angels’ justice,” I finally said to break the uneasy silence. The air was so heavy with unspoken things that I wasn’t sure even an immortal blade could have cut through the tension.
“Fair but merciless is the angels’ way,” he replied. “Perhaps Illias has learned a lesson.”
“Not to mess with an angel?”
He dipped his chin.
Fair but merciless. That was the way of Damiel Dragonsire, Angel Fury. The Spirit of Punishment.
“The next time he tries to manipulate me, I won’t be so lenient,” he told me.
“I hope there never is a next time.”
“There will be. The Magic Eaters, the Hive…their legacy and ours are linked. Our paths will cross again.”
He was watching me so closely. Like he was dissecting my body language, trying to interpret every flicker of movement.
“We have to tell Nyx something about what we’ve been up to,” I said, keeping my face calm under the Master Interrogator’s microscope.
“We’ll tell her the threat to the Earth has been neutralized. A rogue angel has been silenced, his plot thwarted. Colonel Spellstorm was not able to break the ward that defends the Earth from another demonic invasion. As far as the Legion cares, our mission was a success.”
He was right.
We’d learned a lot about the nature of magic and the original Immortals, but we couldn’t share that knowledge with anyone. Because people weren’t ready for this kind of magic. They feared what they didn’t understand. They hated anything that shook the foundation of their beliefs.
We both knew that the Legion would want very much to know about our growing stockpile of immortal weapons. I’d need to find a way to mask the new daggers’ true nature. Previously, Nyx had allowed each of us to possess one of the immortal daggers, but she would never permit us to have five. She’d want to redistribute them between her other angels—or maybe offer them up to the gods. After all, the Immortals had ruled before the gods, and they had been the far more powerful deities.
A shifting spell. That should hide the three new daggers. It would have to be a powerful spell, though. Masking something as potent as Immortal magic was…tricky. Most people would call such a task impossible, but I wasn’t most people. I was stubborn and optimistic. I refused to accept that anything was impossible.
I shifted my attention outward, back to Damiel. He was still watching me. I felt like I was caught in the Master Interrogator’s headlights.
I set my hands on the tabletop and leaned forward against my desk. “Is there anything else?” I asked him coolly.
“Why do you feel the need to keep a large desk between us? Afraid I might get too close?”
“If you get too close, I’ll let you know. With force, if necessary.”
He went quiet for a moment, then said, “You’re still upset with me.”
“What does it matter?” I sighed.
“It matters to me. I upset you. I need to fix that.”
“You can’t fix everything, Damiel.”
“Of course I can. Nothing is impossible. Of anyone, you should know that.”
“I feel I must amend my philosophy to: nothing is impossible, except for angels. Angels are extremely impossible.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“I do.” I tapped my fingers against my desk. “Do you regret being pigheaded?”
“I was not pigheaded. I was firm.”
“You tried to keep me out of the fight.”
“I was trying to keep you safe. We were facing a highly dangerous battle. I didn’t want anything to happen to you.”
I believed him. He’d been looking out for me since our first mission together.
But that didn’t mean I wasn’t mad at him. His intentions might have been good, but his execution was downright lousy.
“It goes both ways,” I told him. “Did you ever stop to think that maybe I don’t want anything to happen to you?”
“You care.” An emotion I didn’t recognize flashed in his eyes.
“Of course I care, Colonel Hardhead. But when the going gets tough, I refuse to cower at the sidelines, powerless to help you. I won’t be that person, not for anyone, not even for the man I love. If you want to be with me, you need to accept that. You need to let me fight by your side. Can you do that?”
A happy smile spread his lips. “You love me.”
I realized that I’d indeed said that. The words had just slipped out.
He’d confessed his love to me, but I had not confessed my love for him, not even to myself. Not until now. Well, it was about time I owned up to it.
“Yes. I do. I love you, Damiel Dragonsire.”
Marking each other. It had been much more than a physical act. It was about more than mere possessiveness. It was all born from love. His love. And mine. The love we shared.
In one smooth, effortless motion, he jumped over my desk. His hands were on my back, pulling me close. My chest slammed against his. He kissed me. I kissed him back. And we just melted into each other.
“Damiel,” I said, breathless.
He kissed my lips softly. “Yes, my angel?”
“You haven’t…” I kissed his mouth. “…answered my question.” His cheek. “Can you accept me for who I am?” His jaw. “Are you able to let me fight by your side…” My lips trailed kisses down his neck. “…no matter what happens?”
He stroked his hands down my face. “Yes,” he said, meeting my eyes.
Surprise gripped me. That must have been the first time Damiel Dragonsire’s will had bent for anyone. That was the most romantic thing I’d ever seen. And the most irresistible. I grabbed him roughly and slammed him against the wall. It shook.
His fingers ran down my back, digging into my skin. They plunged lower to settle on my hips. “I couldn’t help but notice that you brought me to your office.”
I tore his shirt right off him. “I was mad at you.”
“And now?” His fingers slid the zipper of my sport top half way down; my breasts pushed against the strained top, threatening to burst out. “Have you forgiven me?” He unzipped my top the rest of the way down—and cast it aside.
“I haven’t decided yet,” I said with a sly smile, arching my back.
His eyes dipped to my breasts.
“I think you need to convince me.”
“Gladly,” he growled.
His hands gripped my hips, lifting me onto my desk. My neat cup of perfectly-sharpened pencils tipped over, sending them rolling in every direction.
“I am at your command, my angel,” Damiel said.
He pulled down my shorts.
“At your mercy.”
In a flash, he was inside of me.
“My heart is yours. Forever,” he declared fervently, staring into my eyes, gripping me like he was afraid
to let go.
Everything but Damiel blurred, fading out of sight, until it no longer existed. Until there was nothing left in this world or any other but the two of us.
23
Immortal Legacy
I woke up in Damiel’s arms. We were in my bed. I didn’t remember how we’d gotten here from my office, which was in a whole other wing of Storm Castle.
I used the Diamond Tear to bring us here, Damiel said in my mind.
I blinked. He was watching me. From the looks of it, he’d been watching me sleep for a while.
“Nice to know we didn’t make a mad, naked dash from my office to my room,” I said.
He stroked his hand down my cheek, brushing aside a stray strand of my hair. “I briefly considered throwing you over my shoulder and carrying you here.”
“How briefly?”
“Very briefly. I didn’t think you would forgive me for carrying you naked through your own castle.”
“Of course not.” I leaned closer and kissed him. “I have an image to maintain.”
His chest rumbled. If I’d had to choose, I would have said the sound most resembled a tiger’s purr.
I painted a picture in my mind, explaining my plan to mask our new immortal daggers with my shifting magic.
It’s a good idea, he agreed.
We are the true Immortal Legacy. The heritage of the Immortals, I said. And there are eleven more daggers out there, each one representing yet another power. Those daggers have a destiny too, a destiny linked to you and me. I only wish I knew what that destiny is.
I have a feeling we will find out, he replied. Someday.
And now?
“Now I have to get up,” he said aloud. “If I can scrounge up enough willpower to force myself to leave your presence.”
“Shall I give you a helping shove?”
Laughing, he got out of my bed. “I need to get back to New York.”
I stayed in bed, admiring the view as I watched him put on his clothes.
“But I want to see you again tonight,” he told me. “Will you join me later for dinner at my office?”
