Fluerty and Focalor twisted, turning their backs to Izzy, trapping Aosoth between them. Izzy heard her screams, and when the twins turned to join the others, the woman’s body dropped to the ground. The Voices of Hell began to chant, the fire from the lanterns set all around casting their shadows outward as their blackened wings stretched outward in the gentle breeze. They formed a circle, Giovanni at the center. Sharpened blades danced in the moonlight, the sacrificial knives that would claim the first soul of the culling in the name of Lucifer.
Somewhere in her tormented mind, through the blinding fear and sickness, Izzy realized the fault in their plan. The bosses were still back at Giovanni’s house, drunk and celebrating their grand La Seconda Venuta. The change in plans wouldn’t have had time to be carried out, and Ashur had every soul he needed to open the gates. Acting too quickly had left Ashur an opening, when they had hoped doing so would give them the upper hand. .
Her voice hoarse with pain, Izzy called to Rafael, “He’s going to open the first gate.”
Chapter Fifteen
Raf growled, his face a mix of anger and concern, “Iyzebel.”
Whipping around to face him, Ashur taunted, “Move to strike me, angel, and she will be dead before you land your first blow.”
Izzy slipped to her knees, the vice on her brain causing her muscles to spasm. “Rafael,” his name was a prayer on her lips.
In a flash of ivory wings and the gleam of Damocles, a warrior’s cry erupted from deep within his chest. Unable to hold onto the ruse, his fury unleashed in a wide arc of the sword.
The point nicked Ashur’s cheek as he maneuvered out of reach. Parrying another blow with his claws, he cried out, “Release the legion.”
One last stab of pain ripped through Izzy before Ashur lost his focus. The torment faded, leaving her breathless with nausea as she collapsed on all fours. Her eyes locked on to the Voices of Hell, their circle closing around Giovanni, their blades held at the ready.
Unable to stand she crawled forward, refusing to look backward as the clash of jaws, blades, and claws entwined with curses and growls. The ethereal beings battled as she struggled to reach the old man in time. Fighting her weakness and the draining aftereffects of Ahsur’s power over her system, she dragged herself closer.
Her body trembled and she nearly collapsed, until Rafael’s voice rang out over the sounds of battle and the Voices of Hell’s chanting. “Use your demon, Iyzebel! It is yours to control!”
Izzy’s head whipped around, her lips forming the words to say she couldn’t, the beast was too strong. Instead, she watched in horror as Ashur’s talons dug into the flesh of Rafael’s upper arm. The spilled blood tainted the air and spurned the demon prince into a frenzy.
Black wings exploded from his shoulders, pulling him upward until his clawed feet hung from the ground. Jaws snapping at the air, his face stretched and rows of elongated teeth pushed away the last remnants of a man.
“You failed to conquer demonkind once, Rafael, and you will do so again. This time, you won’t come back, because I will carry your soul into Hell.”
Raph launched upward, the sword screaming through the air. Blood from his arm sprayed downward, splattering Izzy’s upturned face and opened mouth. In that moment the fire that burned on her tongue released the demon inside.
Her arms stretched outward, trying to find purchase, as her body lurched backward. Her back arched until her hair hung down to touch the backs of her feet and her face pointed to the sky. Above her, storm clouds swirled. Bruised and swollen with the faces of the damned, they formed a vortex filled with the endless wailing of tortured souls. The sound called out to her demon, dragging it to the surface, and she could no longer fight the urge to let it feed.
The power within her surged, feeding off the angel’s blood, and Izzy’s voice screamed out until she choked on the ebony shadows flowing through her parted teeth. Shadow leaches, bloated and thick with the pain of the lost souls, swarmed over her arms and legs. The weight of them pulled at her body and tugged her to the side until her gaze once again met Giovanni’s.
The Voices of Hell gathered their power, and Sydonay’s voice rang out—high and pure—like a child filled with glee. “By the morning star’s light, in Lucifer’s name, let the first soul open the gate.” Plunging the knife into Giovanni’s chest, she threw her head back and screamed in victory.
In a single bound, Izzy landed behind Sydonay, her talons slicing through the female’s long, dark hair and tendons at the back of her neck. Blood, thick and hot, sprayed her face and dripped from the tips of her eyelashes as her demon screamed. Glorying in the sight of the body crumpling at her feet, the beast’s thirsting overtook Iyzebel, and she turned on the others.
Fluerty and Focalor faced her, while Galia eased to the blind spot on her right. Izzy spun, trying to keep them in her line of sight. The demons’ eyes glowed with battle lust as they closed in, Izzy tried to track them, but her concentration faltered. The last vestiges of her humanity faded at the sight of Giovanni’s head lulling forward, the blood pouring from the blade in his chest, and dripping down to the pentagram drawn under his chair.
She didn’t care that she was out numbered or that the building trembled with the dark magic being worked there, the crimson droplets fueling the sigils that would open up Hell. The sound of Rafael’s cries of pain and Ashur’s grunts fell on deaf ears. Izzy had not loved a human in many years before Giovanni. The man had showed kindness to her when she did not deserve such a thing. Seeing the shade of death on his face and the shadows moving in to suck at his flesh sickened her heart until it turned black.
Snapping inside her chest, the invisible chains that bound her with the demon broke and a weight lifted. The demon’s triumph raged through her veins and the world turned red. Hunger scorched her insides and hatred boiled in her brain. She almost turned away from her attackers, the scent of Rafael’s blood and the desire for his soul stronger than ever before, but Izzy fought just as he had told her to do.
Using the rage, she reached out with both hands, moving faster than even her victim’s demon eyes could follow. In one quick strike, her talons sunk into the twins’ throats, their ancient skin popping and spurting blood like fountains. They tore at her arms and chest, clawing for freedom, but Izzy felt no pain. Closing her fists and ripping backward, she tore cartilage, muscle, and arteries until it was pulp in the palms of her hands.
Still, she held them by the strings of meaty flesh, hunger enveloping her in a callous need. With a deep inhale, she drew out their souls in one crushing breath, swallowing the sour tastes of the ancient beings in one gulp. Power as old as time flowed in her veins, and for a moment, she watched the world fitted in darkness. The shadows gleamed, their ebony color filled with rainbows as if they were living oil spills, the light of the sigils glowing as if welcoming her home, and the red haze of death coloring all her eyes touched.
Galia struck, his jaws locking onto her neck and shoulder from behind and his nails digging into her arms as he pinned them to her side. With a beat of his leathery wings, he pulled her upward. Shaking his head like a dog, the Egyptian ripped at her flesh, tearing a large chunk of flesh free.
Her furious screams pierced the night as she struggled, the agony of the bite pulsing through her body. Aosoth lay, bound and bleeding, and Rafael’s body was slick with blood as he tried in vain to end Ashur’s life. Death loomed all around her, as the first demon erupted from the glowing pentagram beneath Giovanni’s body, pausing to draw the last of Sydonay’s spirit from the lifeless body. Izzy realized, somewhere in the city, Ashur’s generals had begun to claim the lives of the one hundred souls and the culling had begun.
The night air filled with shadows and the sound of beating wings. With each willing man’s death, the gates opened wider, releasing the worst of Hell on Manhattan. The creatures circled and cried out before swooping downward into the night, their attention on human souls rather than the ethereal beings—living and dead—on the roof.
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Her demon cried out, straining against the binds that she had wrapped around him, lusting for the sound of humans screaming in the streets below. For a serene moment, her eyes met with Rafael’s as he swung the sword with all his might. The love she saw burning for her in their amber depths gave her one last surge of hope.
Throwing her upper body backward, she smashed her head into Galia’s face, catching the demon by surprise. A fresh wave of pain rolled through her as the action wrench the open wound in her neck farther, ripping the flesh and muscle that hung by threads. For an instant the Egyptian held on, its claws gripping her tighter in reaction to the assault, but then she fell.
The roof rose up quickly, promising to shatter her bone on impact, and Izzy’s arms flew to protect her head. Before she shut her eyes, she watched Rafael’s sword slice through Ashur’s wing, and she knew that the demon would share her fate. A sense of pleasure filled her, knowing that he would hurt as she hurt, he would fall as she fell, and he would see his death coming in the gleam of Damocles.
Her body jerked, the impact softer than she imagined it would be, though the air rushed from her lungs. Sputtering, her eyes flew open and she gnashed her jaws in defense. Almost too late, she focused through the tears and looked into Rafael’s face. Relief flooded her senses until she saw his expression full of anger and vengeance.
“Rafael,” she snapped out his name, the words hard and quick as if she had struck him.
Blinking as if awakened by a dream, he held her tighter, his face softening into concern. “Ashur’s gone. He fled into the portal. I’ve sealed the gate with my sword, but there’s no knowing how many demons escaped.”
She reached up with her good arm to touch his face, unconsciousness stealing in. “Giovanni and Aosoth are dead. He will head for Capone.” The final words were a whisper as her eyes closed.
****
“I’m cold,” Izzy mumbled, the slight sound of her own cracking voice making her head pulse.
A gentle hand brushed her cheek. “Then stop kicking the covers off in your sleep.”
Her lids felt glued shut as she slowly pried them apart, revealing bloodshot eyes. “Rafael?”
“I’m here, Izzy. I’m here.” He took her hand, squeezing it gently and brushing his lips across her knuckles.
Trying to sit up, she gasped in pain, a reminder of the battle. “Giovanni,” his name was a whisper as her eyes filled with tears. The sobs shook her, causing the muscles in her wounded shoulder to ache and strain, the healing not yet complete. “How many are dead, how many demons got through?”
“You need to rest, don’t worry about such things right now.” Rafael tried to comfort her, but she glowered at him.
“Answer me. This is my fault. Without me, Ashur wouldn’t have—”
“He would have done it anyway. He would have victimized another child, he would have created another demon, and he would have driven her to do the same things as you. What you did do, Iyzebel, was fight the bonding, chose the side of right, and try to stop what has befallen the city. Because of you, the same fate did not spread to the rest of the world.”
“Just catch me up to date, and let’s find that bastard, I want no excuses or coddling. I’m not a child. I don’t need that. What I need to know is how bad the damage is, and what we need to do to stop it.” Grimacing, Izzy pushed herself upright.
“Stupid, stubborn girl,” Raf let go of her hand and rubbed his face. “If that’s the way you want it. The casualties are low, considering the circumstance. According to this morning’s news, ninety-nine men were discovered dead in a warehouse downtown. The official cause of death has been ruled as ingestion of poison. The media is calling it the biggest mob hit in history, because all the men had known contacts with the crime families. So far, twenty-two humans have been discovered throughout New York, all the bodies fit the description of having had their soul sucked. Of course, the experts are calling it a new strain of virus.”
Izzy nodded, a part of her relieved that the numbers were low. She still found it difficult to grieve for humankind, but for Giovanni and Aosoth, her heart broke.
“And the rest of the gates?”
“Apparently, all the bosses managed to get word to their men in time. The gates were not opened. Only New York has suffered.”
The wave of pain eased, and Izzy prepared to stand. “Give me your arm.”
“Why?”
She looked down, “I’m naked, bloody, and wounded. I would like to assess the damage, take a shower, get dressed, and figure out what to do next. Ashur is still out there, Rafael. He is not going to stop. He’s going to go to Capone, and he’s going to make this happen, or the four-hundred names on that list are going to end up dead. For a demon, dead is beyond permanent.”
Holding out one arm, Rafael braced her back with the other, gently helping her to stand. “I have done what I could to heal you, Izzy.”
Wincing from both the pain and his words, she looked at him closely for the first time since waking. Fading whelps marked his face, arms, neck, and chest where he had battled Ashur. Large sections of fresh, pink skin streaked across his olive complexion, as if he had been healing for months instead of hours.
Tracing the tip of her finger down the soft edge of a particularly large wound on his forearm, Izzy asked, “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I’m more worried about you than anything.”
“Why?” Scrunching her nose, she studied Raf’s face.
“Iyzebel, you sucked out the souls of two of the Fallen, watched your friends die, and are acting as if you are ready to battle Satan’s army without a single care. I’m concerned.”
The wrinkles in his forehead and deep scowl struck her as funny, but she bit down on her cheek to silence the laughter bubbling at the back of her throat. “Don’t be. I’m fine.” With careful steps she headed for the bathroom, calling out over her shoulder, “Want to see for yourself?”
“No offense, love, but I think I will wait. You are a bit of a mess,” he answered, knowing she was too hurt to really make good on the offer.
Leaning over the sink, Izzy listened to the sound of his chuckling as she gently probed her neck. Raf had stitched her back together as best he could, and her body had done a fair job of taking care of the rest. Though the muscles, tendons, and skin had all reformed perfectly, the area was raw, red, and hurt as if someone had pressed a hot iron to her flesh.
Lifting the stiff ends of her hair, Izzy sighed in disgust, “I hope he plans on burning those bed sheets after letting me sleep on them like this.”
Turning on the water and stepping under the hot stream, she washed the dried blood away, her mind swirling like the red-tinged bubbles disappearing into the drain. Reflecting on all that had happened in such a short time, Izzy struggled to hold onto her sanity as she pressed her forehead to the tiled shower wall. Shame for her part in the culling, grief for Giovanni and Aosoth, and even the fear of loving Rafael brought tears to her eyes. Allowing them to fall, she breathed in the steam. Slowly, her muscles relaxed, the pain faded, and with it her doubts about what she had done.
All too soon, the water turned tepid, and she forced herself to exit. Wrapped in a thick blue towel, she strolled into the bedroom to search for clothes. For a moment, she paused in the doorway, her eyes falling on Rafael’s body stretched out across the bed. His golden skin gleamed in the low light and his dark hair fell against his cheek. The softness of his face as he slept drew her nearer with the need to kiss his pouted lips. Letting the towel slip away, she stepped forward, bending to kiss the corner of his mouth as it pulled down into a frown.
Stirring, his groggy eyes blinking to focus on her face, Raf smiled and rolled, bringing her with him into the softness of the bed. In a tumble of entwined limbs, her mouth greedily chased his, but Raf pulled back.
“Just rest, my love. We have an eternity to enjoy each other.” His eyes closed again before the final word left his mouth.
Smiling upward into his face,
Izzy sneaked in a quick kiss before losing herself in the warmth of his protective arms. Saving the world would have to wait, her angel needed his rest and she needed time in his embrace.
Chapter Seventeen
“Good Evening, New York. This is Sarah Jayne Davis, and tonight, I bring you more disturbing news on the climbing death toll in and around the city.” The dark haired beauty with riveting eyes looked straight ahead, her face a somber blank slate. “Today, state officials reported that the number of violent and strange deaths in the past twenty-four hours has climbed to an astonishing one-hundred and seventy. Bodies have been uncovered in alleys, homes, businesses, parks, and even the subway. As of right now, police have not issued a formal statement, but around the city people have offered up theories of their own.”
The footage cut to the same woman, looking with fascination at a weak old man. His sharp eyes bore into her face as he said, “It’s the mafia. What the news and the cops aren’t telling you is that most these men are linked in with the big families. Not just the ones from here, either. I recognize these names from the old days. What we are seeing is Mafia War III, and I hope they finally kill each other off.”
Again the footage changed and a young woman with dyed black hair and facial piercings came into view, “It’s a vigilante. I think all these people were crooked. Even the chicks, you know. I think we have our very own Punisher here. You know, the comic book guy? Yeah, I think someone just got tired of all the evil in this city, and they are taking them out.”
At last, a young business man, dressed in a suit and tie took over the screen. “Honestly, I don’t know what is going on, but I hope the police figure it out soon. On average, one-hundred and fifty-eight people die in this city every day from natural causes, accidents, and violence. In one night, whoever is responsible for this has murdered more than that. It’s scary. I’m terrified for my wife and kids.”
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