She’d been crying? No offspring of the Deceiver showed such emotion in front of their ruler. Duemos lowered herself to one knee, her head bowed in the presence of greatness. A lingering thought in the back of her mind urged her to remember how she’d come to be in one of the Father’s sacred spaces. Was this her final initiation into the Underworld’s most honorable army? “How may I be of service, my lord?”
“Raise the army.” He presented the Seal of Solomon, the copper-colored ring forged from her mother’s blood. Its power called to her, urging, convincing. Dangerous.
The sensation radiating throughout her body forced her attention back to the fight between her father’s private guard and Israel. Isabel had locked him in a vise grip from behind, effectively cutting off the use of his wings. Good move. She would’ve done the same. Duemos breathed in a shared victory. Israel would make a nice trophy.
“Vdarra.” The angel reached for her, but collapsed back into Isabel’s arms.
Lightning struck. The scene changed before her. He smiled down at her, stroking her jaw with such tender care. Something indescribable swelled in her chest, the emotion bordering on longing, but in a blink of an eye, Isabel and the Archangel were before her once again. What was that?
“I know you,” she said.
Before his reaction registered, the cathedral’s doors crashed open. Splinters of glass from the windows shattered as huge angelic forms penetrated the building. The Father’s warriors of all statures and descriptions surrounded them and she gripped her hands into fists, prepared for battle.
Loyalty forced her feet to move and she stepped in front of her father. At the front of the line, another Archangel stood fully equipped in armor and weaponry, his electric blue gaze piercing her. He too, seemed familiar, but she couldn’t place him.
Sorren. His name was Sorren.
“In the name of the Father,”—the warrior stepped forward, placed himself mere feet from her—“I order you to hand over the Seal and surrender.”
“Not even He can stop me, seraph.” The Deceiver closed in on the warrior with striking speed, sticking a blade directly into his gut. He tipped his head back toward the heavens, blood dripping down the back of his hand. “Your army will fall today, Father!”
He let his prey crumple to the floor then twisted toward her. He held out his hand as the angelic army converged on them. “Raise the army, Duemos.”
Too many pieces of her memory had vanished, but one element remained: she killed angels. She straightened for battle and summoned her sword with mere thought. The heavy blade appeared in her hand, warming in her grip. As a warrior, she’d sacrifice her life in the line of duty. This battle was no different from others. She took the Seal from her father as he confronted the army singlehandedly.
“Vdarra, no!” Israel twisted in his captor’s arms, slamming his head against hers. Isabel landed on her back, unconscious, and he advanced on Duemos before her father’s bodyguard had hit the floor.
She slid the ring over her middle finger.
The slick metal glowed, welcomed her. Already the power of the Seal entombed her. Closing her eyes, she exhaled softly, allowing pure energy to pull her into a trance. The familiar sinking sensation flowed throughout her body like a dripping icicle, one cell at a time. “Come to me.”
Thousands of minds connected to hers at once, each in control of their own thoughts, but commanded by one. They appeared in hordes, her demons of death, her hunters, and met the angelic army head on with battle cries. “Kill them—”
Solid muscle collided with her.
She hit the floor, losing her concentration on controlling the army.
Her sword slid across the marble floor, lost in the chaos. She automatically wrapped her fingers around her attacker’s neck and her legs around his torso. The distinct sounds of battle echoed in the cathedral’s high ceilings and domes, driving her desire for war higher. Squeezing tight, she struggled for control.
“I cannot…let you…live,” he said through clenched teeth. With a single movement, Israel, the Archangel, rolled onto his back, planting her directly on top of him as lovers did.
The position seemed intimate, yet she held no romantic inclinations for the being beneath her. Despite his angelic status and power, whatever her father had done made her stronger, faster, and more powerful than she’d ever imagined. She felt it pumping through her heart, residing in her blood—her father’s blood, giving her the ability to overcome an Archangel alone.
He struggled beneath her, but her strength kept him in place. After a moment, he seemingly registered his position. He couldn’t win this fight. Emerald green eyes softened as she held him down and her heart skipped a beat. She recognized that look. But how? They’d never met in battle until now.
“I’m sorry.” He bucked her off his body and immediately pushed her down, taking away her advantage as she crashed onto her back. The breath was knocked from her lungs, but that didn’t compare as pain erupted from her lower belly. She reflexively lost her grip on Israel’s throat. Why did that hurt so bad?
She pushed past the shock and glanced down to find the hilt of Isabel’s signature blade protruding from her abdomen. Blood seeped from the wound. Her blood.
“I’m so sorry.” He removed his grip from the handle of the knife, tears sliding down his face. His shoulders shook on a sob as he sat back. Why did he care so much? Angels killed her brethren on a daily basis, dwindled their numbers down to almost nothing. “I love you, Vdarra. I love you.”
Air froze in her throat.
With her energy taken in a single blow, she laid her head back against the marble floor as the battle proceeded without her. Her entire life had been planned in anticipation for this moment. She’d been trained, honored, and given an army to do what she pleased with, but all for naught. A simple blade had stolen her life.
Israel’s gaze disappeared as he closed his eyes. What she wouldn’t give to be lost in it. Her thoughts returned to the calming vision she’d witnessed before he’d attacked her. His strokes, his passion, his kiss. “How do you…know me?”
Without the energy to fight him off, she could not stop his lips from connecting with hers.
Reality melted away as a string of images assaulted her mind—a hotel room in Rio, his skin against hers, her kidnapping, fighting Damien and Isabel, her apartment, protection runes, blood injections, the deal with Sorren, finding the Seal.
And Jacob.
Her fallen protector. The love of her existence.
She gasped for breath. Unable to explain where the visions had come from, she knew them to be true. He hovered over her, his weight comfortable and warm as her life’s blood stained his clothing. The memory of her first death flashed across the back of her eyelids, as did her plea for death if she gave into the darkness. “Jacob.”
“Vdarra?” The shock twisted his features, parted those soft, warm lips. Her heart clenched in a vise. “Oh, God. What have I done?”
He pulled the knife from her gut swiftly then replaced it with his hands, tried to stop the bleeding. The pain ripping through her didn’t compare to the pain of losing him forever. He’d kept his word. He prevented her from destroying the world. “How is this possible?”
A second wave of heat ignited in her belly and she gasped in surprise. Tears creased her eyelids before rolling down into her hairline. When she found her breath, she placed her hands on top of his, increasing the pressure on her midsection. Her eyelids closed instinctively as the pain receded. “You did what you had to. I don’t…blame you.”
“I could have prevented this. I didn’t know—”
She opened her eyes and brushed the tears from his face with her thumb. He leaned into her as she added her hands on top of his. The collision of swords and the smell of blood and ash hung in the air, but she wouldn’t live to see the outcome. She slowly reached for the ring on her finger, every movement taking another gasp of air from her lungs, and slid the Seal off.
The cathedral quie
ted, her army as frozen as Qin Shi Huang’s Terracotta Army. Without a commander, without the Seal attached to a host, they were nothing but flesh. Jacob’s head shot up, his gaze surveying everything she couldn’t see.
She memorized the planes of his face, the gold flecks in his eyes, and the sorrow engraved in his stare. She’d survived death once, but this time, her fate had caught up with her. With them. She slipped the Seal into his hand. “Take it. Keep it safe until you can give it to Sorren.”
His attention snapped back to her. His fingers closed around her hand. Warming her. Comforting her. The suffering in his expression flared, but quickly disappeared as he set his mouth in a thin line. “We have to get out of here.”
“Leave me. I’ll only slow you down.” Another round of tears slid down her face. She flattered her palms against his chest and pushed. “Go. Before—”
Movement shifted just over his left shoulder. “No!”
Her father ripped him away, his weight vanishing. He landed on his side against a column, unmoving, and her heart shot into her throat. Blood trickled to the floor. An awakened Isabel converged on him in an instant, barring him from her sight. “Get off of him!”
The order fell on deaf ears. She no longer wore the Seal. She’d lost control. Of everything.
“I forged the ring from your mother’s blood and my own power when you were birthed. Our sacrifice gave you the power running through your veins.” Striding toward the discarded ring, the Deceiver slowly bent down and picked up the innocent-looking item. Panic overwhelmed her senses as he slipped the Seal over his middle finger. “Power I mistakenly surrendered. Time to rectify that mistake.”
She waited for the end, for her army to come back to life and destroy the entire human race, but they remained frozen. A sharp exhale relaxed every muscle in her body. “You can’t control them. They only respond to me.”
A smile crossed her father’s lips and dread filled her once again. The man with that smile had once given her comfort, a home, rescued her from the ocean when she had no idea who she was or how she’d gotten there. Now, it meant nothing as the Deceiver removed something from his breast pocket. Between two fingers he held a vile of liquid. Silver liquid. The Deceiver unplugged the stopper and lifted the vial to his lips, swallowing softly, as if he had all the time in the world. “Before I had any idea you’d betray me, I made sure to keep a sample of your mother’s blood. Just in case.”
His intentions hit her hard.
“No.” The heat in the center of her chest flared. She struggled to her feet, but the wound in her side took any strength she might’ve had.
The transformation started in his hands. Claws formed at his fingertips, like Damien’s and Isabel’s, but disappeared almost instantly as if they’d been absorbed into his skin. The same occurred in his eyes—black to gold and back.
“I expected better of you, daughter.” The Deceiver exhaled hard and faced her head on, fire burning in his gaze. He lunged forward, wrapping strong hands around her arms. Wrenching her to her feet, he pulled her close. Rivulets of sweat ran down his creased forehead. His jaw sharpened as he spoke between clenched teeth. “After everything I’ve done for you. Everything I sacrificed!”
His fingertips dug into her skin, but she didn’t cry out or wince. In fact, she barely noticed the pressure with the pulsing of her wound as a distraction. With a strong jerk, he forced her to her knees. The marble bit into her skin, its coldness seeping into her. She focused on the spot where Jacob had gone down and her heart wrenched violently.
Isabel had him.
“This is the second time you’ve forced me to correct your mistake, Duemos, but this time, he’s going to die for your actions.” He yanked her head back by the roots of her hair, exposed her throat. “Bring him to me!”
Without the strength to fight against him, she strained to use her peripheral vision. She couldn’t see anything with her father standing in the way and wisps of black hair sticking to her face.
The Deceiver forced her chin down, her gaze pointed directly at Jacob’s still form. Two servants, hollow eye sockets focused on her father, appeared beside her. Jacob sagged unconscious between them. Her servants. Their almost humanlike forms swayed from side to side as the bare bones of their feet pressed into the floor.
He’d taken control of the army.
Pressure built, tensing her muscles. “Don’t do this.”
“I’m not. You are.” A blade appeared in his hand, reflecting the dim sunlight coming through the stained glass window. Sleek metal pressed against her cheek, cool, hard, as his other hand kept a grip on the back of her neck. Her father thrust the blade into her grip. “Kill him and all is forgiven. Refuse, and you watch him suffer for the rest of your life. Which may or may not happen quickly.”
Her breath caught, intensified the excruciating pain in her abdomen. She closed her eyes to fight the nausea, but barely had the strength to reopen them. Maybe if she stalled the Deceiver long enough, she’d bleed to death and this would end. But the army had already risen. She’d failed. Lost control of them and herself.
Jacob remained motionless, unconscious, but alive. He didn’t deserve to suffer because of her weakness. Raising her chin level to the floor, she asked, “How did you bring the memories back?”
“By siphoning vials throughout your mortal life, I was able to manipulate the injections to give you the exact memories I wanted you to have. Along with my blood of course.” Her father released her completely, leaving her to balance on her knees alone. She swayed. She’d lost too much blood. “But I couldn’t very well give you the strongest dose. I had to make sure that disgusting mortal body of yours could take it.”
The world tilted to one side and her vision blurred. She forced herself to focus, raising her attention to the Deceiver. As her gaze connected with his, the simmering pressure grew into a tangible energy, rushing down into her fingertips, filling her completely. The familiar power expanded at her command. It swirled, raced and surged through her senses, overtaking her little by little. Her wound tingled in reaction, but she refused to look down, afraid she’d lose her building confidence. “Your plan didn’t work. You failed. I’m not Duemos.”
“A technicality. Soon to be remedied.” Her father hid the brief flash of red crawling up his neck like an expert, his expression resembling a frozen wasteland, but along with it, his focus slipped. “You’ve made your choice?”
“I never had a choice.” With a split-second decision, she lunged. Slamming into the Deceiver’s side, she tried to wrestle the Seal off his finger. His elbow connected with her left cheek as they hit the ground together, but she barely noticed the pain. The wound at her side pulsed with her heartbeat. The Seal claimed her thoughts completely, but another hit to the face knocked her backward.
She landed hard, breathing heavy as the shock cleared. Stars appeared in her vision as she took in the cathedral’s high ceilings, and tightness lanced through her chest. His strength far outweighed hers in every aspect. Even with demonic powers at her call, the Deceiver would win.
“You can’t beat me, Duemos.” He stood, loomed over her as he brushed pale dust from his suit jacket. “I taught you everything you know.”
The room swayed and her energy level dropped significantly, and she fought to get to her feet. Blood stained the left side of her T-shirt and jeans. She staggered toward him, took a moment to let her vision straighten, and approached again.
A smirk crossed her father’s features, and dread pooled like a rock in her stomach. His laugh slithered down her back. “Look at you, daughter. Your mortal body isn’t going to last much longer. Come with me. I can make you stronger. We can rule together.”
She didn’t know what her next move would be, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to go down without a fight. A last stand. Allowing herself one last look at Jacob, she made her decision. After everything they’d been through, she’d agreed with only two things during her time as Duemos. One, nothing in this world or the next co
uld poison the love they shared. And two, she’d do it all over again to make sure he lived.
…
Rays of white light penetrated the black haze shrouding his vision. Something wet dripped down both his arms and he forced his head back. On either side of him, lower level servants held him in place, his body hanging between them, but the blinding light expanding outward in front of him consumed him.
Head thrown back, Vdarra gripped the Deceiver with both hands, her face contorted in pain. Tendrils of heat and flame consumed them from every direction, a swirling tornado of power and life.
“No! Vdarra!” As though he’d sustained a physical blow, the breath punched from his lungs. His feet slipped on the slick floor, but neither servant reacted to his movement, merely held onto him.
Frozen. Powerless.
Adrenaline shot through his system. He gained his footing and wrenched from the disgusting grasp on his arms. He had to separate Vdarra and her father, and stumbled forward. Pain exploded in both his leg and shoulder. The arrows had worked themselves free, but the damage had already been done. Didn’t matter. He’d live, but not without her. He’d taken only a single step when the intensity of the flames lashed out toward him. With a searing lick, it whipped across his forearm, burning his flesh. Controlling his scream, he shielded his eyes from the brightness as he staggered back. “Vdarra, let go! He’ll kill you!”
The branch of flames expanded outward, slithering along the floor, taking hold of columns and crumpling them under its strength like dried roots. In seconds, they’d be buried under several tons of concrete and marble if he didn’t get her out of the cathedral.
Strong hands wrapped around his biceps from behind as he took another step and he turned in preparation for an attack.
Blue eyes found his and he stopped cold.
“We have to get out of here!” Blood dripped down Sorren’s armor. A lot of it.
“Get the angels to safety. I’m not leaving without her.” He spun back toward her, the wounds protesting, but he’d burn alive if she could be saved. A rampant quake rippled up through the floor, jarring him into a nearby column. He hung on for balance, and pushed forward. He wouldn’t lose her. Not again.
Her Fallen Protector Page 19
