by Susan Illene
Melena opened the front door as they reached the steps. “Sorry about the guard dog.”
“Do not compare me to an inferior animal. I was just ensuring your friend wasn’t bringing any riff raff around,” Kerbasi defended. “It wouldn’t surprise me in the least.”
Cori rolled her eyes. “You know I’m used to him.”
“Yeah, but your mother…” Melena began.
“I can handle myself,” Joy said, reaching the top step. “My daughter got her stubbornness from me.”
“I don’t doubt it.” The sensor waved them inside. “We are having some ice cream if you two would like some.”
Cori’s stomach twisted, letting her know she still couldn’t eat a thing. “Not me.”
Joy gave her a concerned look. “My daughter has hardly eaten in days no matter what I cook for her.”
“Why?” Melena asked, turning a worried gaze to Cori.
“Something is wrong with Bartol. I’ve been feeling it since shortly after his last call on Sunday, and it’s not going away. We have to find out what’s going on.”
The sensor frowned. “Have you had any dreams about him?”
“No.”
“What about pain? Have you felt any phantom injuries?”
These were things Melena and Lucas experienced when one or the other was hurt—even if they were as far away from each other as Purgatory. Cori knew all that, which was why she’d waited to say anything. Her symptoms weren’t exactly the same as theirs.
“It’s just a gut feeling—and he was supposed to call two days ago. I’ve tried his cell phone a dozen times, but it goes straight to voicemail.” They reached the kitchen where Lucas and Emily were eating ice cream cones. Cori took a seat at one of the barstools across from them. “Something has happened.”
Lucas finished the last of his cone with his back to them, then twisted around to face her. “Where was he during his last call? And when?”
“It was Sunday. He was about to leave Warsaw and go to Prague.”
The nephilim nodded. “And when did you start to feel something was wrong?”
“About an hour or so after his call.”
“I talked to Caius on Sunday as well, and he sounded fine at the time. I am reasonably certain there was no trouble in Poland, which leaves the Czech Republic as the place where they must have run into trouble—assuming they are truly missing.” Lucas dabbed at his mouth with a napkin. “The evidence was strong that the demon might have been there at the time.”
“You think they found him that fast and didn’t bother to call for help?” Cori asked.
“It’s possible.”
Melena handed an ice cream cone to Joy, who gratefully took it.
After sampling a bite, she directed her gaze at Lucas. “Shouldn’t that archangel—Remiel, I think his name is—shouldn’t he be watching out for them?”
“It’s difficult to say,” Lucas replied to her mother. “We can never determine when Remiel is watching and when he is not.”
“But this is serious,” Cori argued. “There is a demon on earth. You’d think the archangels would be on top of monitoring the situation.”
“Remiel did say the treaty ties their hands in a lot of ways,” Melena said, putting away the ice cream after Cori stubbornly declined a cone. “I wish we could see a copy of the document to find out all the details.”
Lucas snorted. “They’d never share it with us.”
Emily finished the last of her ice cream cone. “Wait a minute. If Bartol is missing, that means Tormod would be too, or he’d have called us.”
“And Caius,” Melena added.
“Just a moment.” Lucas pulled out his cell phone and called someone. When that call failed, he cursed and tried another. He disappeared out of the kitchen for a few minutes while they waited for him.
“Anything?” Cori asked when the nephilim returned.
He shook his head. “Neither Bartol, Caius, or Tormod are answering their phones. In addition to that, my contact in Prague said they never checked into their hotel. He’s been waiting for them to reach out to him.”
That wasn’t good at all. The pit in Cori’s stomach tightened, and she had the urge to run to the bathroom. She probably would have if she had eaten anything that day.
“We’ve got to do something,” Emily said, hopping off her barstool.
Melena stared up at the ceiling with a look of concentration. “Remiel, if you’re listening or watching, we need you here right now.”
A full minute passed as they waited, but no archangel appeared.
Kerbasi, who’d sneakily gotten his own ice cream while they were talking and then proceeded to eat it while standing next to the kitchen counter, lowered his cone. “Has it occurred to you imbeciles that you’re currently in a circle of Melena’s blood and the archangel can’t listen in?”
“Oh, right.” The sensor shook her head. “Being able to nullify magic has its downsides.”
“I’m beginning to figure that out,” Cori said, sighing.
Melena took her arm. “Yeah, sorry about that. Let’s go outside and try summoning Remiel again.”
The others followed them out onto the front lawn. It was more than a little cold at this time of year in Fairbanks and a few degrees below zero. Everyone pulled their hats and gloves on since it could take a while to get the archangel’s attention, assuming he was listening at all.
“Remiel,” Melena called out. “Bartol and the others are missing. We need your help!”
The stars above twinkled at them, almost mockingly.
After a few minutes, Lucas stepped away from the group. “Remiel, get your feathered ass down here if you know what’s good for you.”
Nephilim had a love-hate relationship with angels. Under any other circumstances, Cori might have laughed, but she couldn’t find much of anything funny at the moment.
About thirty seconds later, a brilliant flash of light appeared on the lawn before them. Everyone shielded their eyes from it. An archangel’s appearance was always more blinding than a nephilim’s, and it took longer to adjust.
“You should be more patient,” Remiel said imperiously.
As usual, his white robes billowed about him, and his auburn hair was cut close to his head, looking like it was held stiff with strong gel. Cori had once seen him with a bit of scruff and longer hair, but that was during the period when Ariel was in Hell, and he was feeling guilty about sending her there. Since she’d relocated to Melena’s place, he’d gotten his act together again. The archangel gave a brief, forlorn glance toward the RV where Ariel was residing. She hadn’t come out or even peeked from one of the windows, despite all the noise they were making outside. Maybe she didn’t want to see or talk to him, which wouldn’t be all that surprising after what he did to her.
Melena took a step toward Remiel. “We are patient, but we never know when you’re listening—and this is an emergency.”
“The reason for your call is the same reason I could not respond right away,” the archangel replied.
“Or he was busy playing cards with his buddies and couldn’t be bothered,” Kerbasi muttered.
Remiel gave the guardian an imperious look. “Hardly. Some of us have real jobs.”
“Why you…” Kerbasi began but stopped when Emily grabbed his arm. The teenager had a way of controlling him like no one else, except maybe Melena, but even the sensor had her limits.
“Anyway,” Cori said, trying to keep her tone calm and civil. “Do you know where Bartol is now?”
The archangel shook his head. “We have searched, but he and the other two are nowhere to be found.”
She squeezed her eyes closed and fought down a lump in her throat. This was just as bad as she’d thought. “What does that mean?”
“The demon has grown strong enough to mask them, assuming they’re still alive.”
Cori’s knees buckled, and she fell onto the snow. Emily cried out and turned to Kerbasi, who hugged her gently and murmured rea
ssurances. Lucas looked ready to punch the archangel. Cori gulped in huge breaths of air as Melena helped her to her feet, barely able to stand on her own. The thought of Bartol being gone forever before she had a chance to truly know him and be with him was more than she could take.
“They can’t be dead,” the sensor argued.
“Possibly not,” Remiel agreed. “But we can’t be sure they’re alive, either.”
“Cori would be in much worse shape if her mate was dead, and we wouldn’t feel the bond mark on her this strongly,” the sensor pointed out.
The archangel studied her and frowned. “You may be right.”
There was something in his expression that bothered Cori, but before she could hazard a guess as to what he was thinking, he looked away. Was there something about her mate bond that was different? Had she missed something?
“You have to find Bartol,” she pleaded. “He’s alive—I know it.” Cori worried about Tormod and Caius as well, but her mate was her priority.
Remiel nodded. “I will continue my search and let you know if I find anything.”
It hit her then. “Maybe I could go to Prague and search for him through our bond. If I’m closer, it might be easier to track him.”
“No. He is no longer in the city. Of that much, I’m certain. It would do you no good to go there now,” the archangel replied.
“You mean there’s nothing I can do?” Cori asked, voice breaking.
A hint of sympathy entered Remiel’s gaze. “Stay here and wait for word from me. As soon as I locate him, I will let you know—I promise.”
“Just don’t give up. That’s all we ask,” Melena said. They were at the archangel’s mercy to help them, and they all knew it.
Remiel nodded and flashed away.
Chapter 21
Bartol
Bartol had never felt colder or more bereft of any other sensation in his life. He couldn’t move no matter how much he tried. It seemed as if a thousand tons of rock pressed down on every part of his body, preventing him from lifting so much as a finger. And his soul was being drained, stripped away one piece at a time.
He was going to die if he did not free himself soon.
As soon as that terrifying thought entered his mind, he panicked and began trying to suck in air like a drowning man. Too many times he’d been tortured in similar ways by Kerbasi, but this was worse, much worse. It was as if he’d been taken over completely. His brain was so foggy he could hardly put together a coherent thought, and when he did, it slipped away moments later. Even his fear could not last long, and after a small battle, he lost the will to keep fighting.
Time passed slowly. For what seemed like a lifetime, only the cold penetrated the solid cocoon wrapped around his mind and body. But then a glimmer of strength and awareness flowed into him, and through darkened waters, he fought to swim to the surface. It was a struggle the whole way, but he didn’t give up. Something told him he had no time to waste.
He gasped his first breath of cool, stale air, catching a hint of moisture and decay. The scent was familiar to him and not all that different from the deep caverns of Purgatory. Bartol opened his eyes, finding himself in total darkness. He pushed to get up but groaned at the pain and weakness suffusing his entire body. Once more, he was reminded of his time as Kerbasi’s prisoner, so he gritted his teeth and fought through the discomfort to rise into a sitting position.
No matter how much he concentrated, though, he could see nothing. Listening intently, he caught the faint trickle of water sliding down rocks, and there was a second heartbeat approximately twelve feet from him. Bartol wasn’t alone.
“Who’s there?”
A pair of feet shuffled against the stone floor. “It’s me.”
“Caius?”
“Yes,” the other nephilim replied. “We appear to be in some kind of underground cavern, but I cannot find a way out.”
Bartol’s last memories returned to him in a flash of images, with Haagenti as the central figure. They’d never stood a chance. The demon had taken them without so much as a fight and wrapped them up in balls of dark energy. For what purpose, he could only imagine since they were still alive.
At least, two of them were. “Where’s Tormod?”
“I’m afraid I don’t know. I woke up perhaps an hour ago with only you lying next to me. You would not rouse, so I spent my time searching every inch of our surroundings. It appears we’re trapped.”
In a cave of all places—the absolute last place Bartol wanted to be.
“How did we get here?” he asked.
“I have no idea, nor do I know how long we’ve been in this place. Our watches, cell phones, and bags have all been taken. All we have left is the clothes on our backs,” Caius said, moving closer.
Bartol tried to pull on enough power to flash somewhere, anywhere. There was nothing. It was as if he’d been drained like a car battery with no charge left, but what had drained them? In Purgatory, a nephilim’s powers weakened over time due to the low oxygen levels and the mystical chains binding them. The unique ore used to forge the manacles had natural magic dampening properties. That wouldn’t be the case here, but it couldn’t be the Gregorian stones either because it wasn’t the same kind of draining. This was very different and felt as if the draining reached Bartol’s very soul.
But as the minutes passed and he remained awake, his body started regaining a little strength. He felt around him until his fingertips grazed a cool, stone wall. He scooted closer to it and used a crevice to help him rise to his feet. Dizziness swept through him, but he managed to fight through it, only swaying once. After he was certain he would not fall, he started searching the cavern one step at a time to see if Caius had missed anything. Surely, they could not be trapped there forever.
After moving a handful of feet, his palms scraped against a collection of jagged rocks. Checking high and low, Bartol discovered there was a large pile of them that went higher than his head. “I’m guessing this was the entrance, and perhaps the demon collapsed it?”
“That was my assumption, except…” Caius paused, and his feet shuffled closer. “He had to know we’d eventually wake up and regain our strength.”
“I’m starting to feel better physically, but none of my powers have returned,” Bartol said, wishing he could at least gain enough strength to make his skin glow. Then he could at least see around him.
“It is the same for me. I’ve been fully drained a few times before, but in those cases, it only took a few hours before my powers began to return. This time, I’ve still got nothing.”
That wasn’t good news for either of them. “Do you think he intends to leave us trapped here forever? One would think he’d rather kill us instead.”
Caius stepped closer. “There must be some point to this we’re missing, but I’m not certain what it could be. For now, we must keep looking for a way out. Just because he hasn’t killed us yet does not mean he won’t eventually—or use us for something else.”
“Agreed.”
Bartol resumed his search in earnest. Every fiber of his being told him Caius was right and that whatever reasons the demon had chosen to put them there, he’d kept them alive to return at some point. They did not want to be there when he did.
His palms pressed against jagged rocks that didn’t budge no matter how much he pushed. He didn’t have much strength to give, but it was enough for the edges to cut into his palms and make them bleed. Without his powers, he was healing far slower than usual. Unwilling to let the biting pain get him down, he didn’t stop trying. The one advantage he had from decades of torture at Kerbasi’s hands was that Bartol could endure endless pain. He tested the whole area high and low before moving on to the smooth-facing walls making up the rest of the cave.
In one section, water dribbled down. Bartol had become so thirsty during his search that he couldn’t resist and craned his neck to catch some of the drops in his mouth. Who knew how long it had been since he’d last eaten or drank anythi
ng? Perhaps days or weeks.
The water wasn’t all that tasty, high in iron and salt, but a few tiny swallows gave him the strength he needed to keep moving. He tried climbing higher up the wall to see if the source of the trickle might come from an opening of some sort. The cavern turned out to be higher than expected. He made it a few feet up, clumsily grabbing anything he could find in the darkness when he lost his footing. Bartol sailed down and slammed down onto his back. Intense pain radiated across his skin, far beyond the sort of discomfort he normally would have felt.
“Caius,” he wheezed.
Footsteps shuffled over. “I’m here.”
“Help me up.”
The nephilim took hold of Bartol’s shoulders, gently pulling him up. In a spot near his spine, Caius’ fingers felt as if they were digging into cut or torn skin. It couldn’t have been a fresh wound from the fall. That area had been aching before, but he’d been ignoring it since he woke up. Only now did the pain stand out more.
“Check my back,” he said, lifting his shirt as far as he could manage. “I think something is there.”
Caius ran his hand across the skin, grazing his fingertips higher toward his shoulder blades. Bartol winced. By touch alone, he could tell the skin was jagged and raised. The demon had done something to him.
“You’ve been marked with a symbol that’s been carved deep into your skin,” Caius said, then cursed under his breath. “I fear I may have the same thing. Check my back.”
Bartol took a deep breath and slowly turned around. The other nephilim crouched just in front of him. He ran his fingers along Caius’ spine, finding the same jagged skin in a pattern just like Haagenti’s symbol. It dawned on him then what had happened to them.
“He’s been leaching all of our powers from us. It’s why he kept us alive,” Bartol said.
Caius moved away, scuffling his feet as he sat down. “He must be doing something bigger than ever if he needs to steal our strength.”
“But that doesn’t tell us what he’s done with Tormod.” And that worried Bartol even more. The nerou hybrid could become a powerful sacrifice, or perhaps his demon blood might be the gateway to corrupt him. He was young and more easy to influence. There were infinite reasons for why Haagenti might have kept him.
