by Alisa Woods
Ariel rose to standing.
Molly just stared in wonder at her. Angeling. Maybe it really did fit.
The girl smiled a little and gestured to Molly’s knife. “Do not try to kill angelkind with that blade, Molly. It won’t work.”
“I can see that.”
Ariel grinned. Then she lifted into the air, arching and swooping away on her black wings.
It took Molly a minute to collect herself.
She’d just made a blood oath with an angeling. To show her mermaids. But they were getting out of hell, so that was okay, she’d explain later. Maybe. If Ariel could learn this “transport” skill before she got whisked away to the unimaginable horror of “making her vows”—as in, Molly did not want to imagine it.
She was shaking all the way back to the cot where Ren was still moping. The two babies were sleeping in their tiny cribs, which were just little wooden trundles that swung close to the floor. They were right next to Ren’s cot.
“Yeah?” Ren asked without looking up—her face was still buried in the pillow.
“Where’s Eden?” Molly’s heart skipped a beat, afraid someone had come to get Eden and had seen her talking to Ariel.
Ren lifted her head. “Taken away.”
Molly’s heart sank. Well, if someone had noticed, they didn’t care enough to interfere. She hoped. She slowly eased down on her cot across from Ren’s.
Ren frowned and sat up to face her. “You okay?”
She wasn’t sure what to say. Or how much to tell Ren… yet. She met Ren’s concerned gaze. “Did you talk to Micah?”
Ren grimaced and dropped her gaze to little Ralphie. She gave his rocker a soft push with her toes. “He said it’s best if we stick to the plan.”
“The plan?” Molly’s voice hiked up. “There’s no plan, Ren.”
“Yes, there is—”
“Ren.” It was harsher than she meant. But maybe the fact that there was real hope was making her edgy. Or maybe it was the angeling blood mixed with hers and healing her hand. “Micah is an angeling.”
Ren’s eyes went wide. She glanced at the kids. “Is that what the girl told you?”
“Yeah. They’re angelings—I don’t know, maybe evil angels or something—but they’re powerful. They’re practically indestructible. And if Micah really wanted to get us out of here… he would.”
“He’s trying!” She was bunching up the blanket again, her face twisted up.
“What about Eden?” Molly demanded, flinging her hand toward the door. The locked door with a guard that only opened for food or for Micah or for some angeling to come haul away her beautiful friend and probably spend a day raping her. “What do you think is happening to her? Right now.”
“I don’t know!” But the desperation in Ren’s eyes said she knew. Of course, she knew. They all did. Even though Eden never said a word.
Molly held Ren’s gaze, not letting her look away from this anymore. But could she trust her? Could she tell her these nascent plans for actually escaping from this hellish place?
If you want trust, you gotta give it. Her dad’s words from beyond the grave again. What would he make of all this? But she knew the answer—he would help everyone he could, from Ariel to Ren to little Ralphie at their feet.
“Eden can’t go on like this,” Molly said quietly. “You know it will break her.”
Ren dropped her face into her hands, hiding.
“But I know a way out.”
Ren gasped and looked up. Her eyes were red and her cheeks wet. “What? How?”
“You can’t tell Micah. I know you love him, but—”
Ren was already nodding.
“The girl. Ariel.” Molly flicked her gaze toward the kids. She couldn’t make out Ariel from this distance. Even nodding that direction felt like too much risk. “She’s going to try to get us out.”
Ren’s face squished up. “Are you sure? I mean… can you trust her?”
“I trust you. To not tell Micah.”
Her expression fell blank. “I promise I won’t.”
“You really can’t, Ren.” She held still, waiting for it—waiting for Ren to say no or to decide she’d have to tell Micah after all.
Ren cradled her belly, the one carrying Micah’s child.
Oh shit. “You could stay,” Molly said softly. Maybe Micah really loved her. Maybe he truly had a plan to get her and the baby away, somewhere safe. Ren had to be thinking the same. But in Molly’s heart of hearts, she knew the most likely outcome was much worse. A place like the nursery wouldn’t exist if things like that were possible.
“No.” Ren’s voice was a whisper. “No… I do love him,” she said earnestly. “But I have to think of the baby. I mean…” Her eyes drifted back to the brutal playground of the kids. “If I’m wrong, my baby ends up here.”
“That’s exactly right.” Molly kept her sigh of relief inside. “You want your baby to have a Momma, right? A real momma—not just the next round of women who get captured and knocked up by these supernatural dudes.”
Ren nodded. She would make a great mom—Eden took care of the babies most of the time, but Ren was a nurse on the outside and a natural at it. Molly wasn’t so sure about herself. The whole “mom” thing was still a total alien mystery to her. But she didn’t want any child to grow up in a place like the nursery. So, they’d have to take Ralphie and Eva with them. She’d tell Ariel the next time they met.
“Just hold tight for now,” Molly said. “Ariel’s working on it. I don’t know how long… but soon. A few days at most.” It had to happen before this Devon character made his vows and graduated out of the nursery, taking the secret of how to travel with him.
Once they had that… they would be gone.
Ren nodded, wiped her face, then bent to pick up Ralphie. He was waking up and fussing. Molly scrubbed her face with both hands to clear away the tension.
They might be leaving soon.
As long as Lady Bad Luck didn’t strike again.
Chapter Five
Asa gritted his teeth through the pain.
Razael’s fingers painted the air in front of Asa’s bared chest, and the magic carving him was like a red-hot blade. Removing his mark. Ten years ago, he’d taken his vow, pledging his life to Razael and his Regiment. The mark branded him as belonging to the angel, under his protection. Asa had failed in his walkabout, Fallen from grace, and was banished from the Dominions of light—his mark was a symbol of the only home he would ever have.
Now Razael was removing it.
The last of the inky tendrils disappeared from his skin, and the pain ceased, but Asa felt naked in a way he hadn’t since his Fall. Razael released him from the magic hold which bound him during the process, mostly to keep him still through the pain.
Asa rubbed the heel of his hand where the mark had been, even though the residual flashes of pain were in his soul, not his skin. “You sure this is going to work?” he asked Tajael, who was standing by, watching, impassive.
“No.”
Asa resisted the urge to snarl. He buckled his battle armor back into place.
“I can send someone else.” Razael wore his concern plain on his face. “If this fails, I’ll need you here to prosecute this war.”
“We can’t afford for this to fail,” Asa said, clearing his throat and the leftover pain. “That’s why I’m the one who needs to go.” He’d got enough rest and recovery from his wounds—his thinking on this was clear. That didn’t make it smart. But infiltrating Elyon’s Regiment to turn his son, Micah, was the best chance they had for bringing him down. And the angel had to be stopped, or he would destroy everything. This was too important—Razael couldn’t send some angeling who might hesitate to offer his life for the Regiment—and Asa had proven himself in that regard several times. Most recently, just yesterday.
He faced Tajael. “But I’m unclear how the Summer Queen is going to smuggle me into Elyon’s Regiment.”
“I’ll let her explain that herself,”
Tajael said. “I’m just the liaison, remember? Besides, the less I know, the better. You need to have a couple degrees of separation between the light angels and yourself to have any hope of this working.”
As much as Asa loathed the fae, Tajael was right—they made a good intermediary.
“Be careful, Asa,” Razael said.
Asa nearly smiled—that was two hesitations. He’d always felt there was more than just a vow-bond between them. Asa’s dedication and Razael’s worthiness… these explained how Asa rose so quickly in the Regiment’s ranks. But there was more than that—he and Razael were of common stock, as much as an angel and angeling can be. “I have every intent of returning—and with a solution to this war in hand.”
Razael tipped his head.
Asa couldn’t even take a blessing for his travels, much less the blade that carried Razael’s power humming through it—he’d fashioned a new one and sheathed it at his side.
He faced Tajael. “Ready.” He let the light angeling guide him with a hand on his shoulder as he opened an interdimensional doorway. Asa could have sought the Summer Queen’s signature in magical space himself, but it was better to come invited into the enemy’s lair.
A twist and a moment later, and they were standing in a throne room that looked like a gardener’s fantasy. The hazy walls glowed yellow like the sun, and the floor was a carpet of grass interspersed with springy moss and tiny white flowers. Vines dangled from the ceiling, and giant twists of wood rose up to a canopy of branches and leaves. Large, ethereal butterfly-like beings flitted through the air—he could sense their spell-magic, but he didn’t know their purpose. The fae courts—like the light angels’ Dominions and the shadow angels’ Regiments—were a construct of magic. Everything here had been conjured, and like the fae glamour in the alleyway in Seattle, the illusion was complete. In the center sat an elaborate throne of twisted vines and a riot of flowers—only the throne was no mere chair, but a swing.
And the fae Queen of the Summer Court was perched upon it.
She dragged her bare toes lazily through the grass below. Her dress shimmered across her body like liquid silver, covering her breasts and sex but barely anything else. Silver-white hair sprung wild and voluminous, covering more skin than her clothes as it cascaded down the front and back of her body. Both her hair and the silver tailings of her dress pooled on the grass.
“Nyssa,” Tajael called out, raising a hand to capture her attention away from the butterfly perched on her hand. “May I present Asa, formerly of Razael’s Regiment?”
A languid smile blossomed on her face. “You may.” She rose from her throne and sauntered across the grass toward them, slow and languorous, her nearly colorless eyes fixed on Asa.
Tajael clapped a hand on Asa’s shoulder and bent near to say, “Good luck.”
“Wait—what?”
But then the light angeling was gone.
Asa grimaced as the fae queen approached. He should have gone over the plan in more detail with Tajael prior to being left in fae territory on his own.
The queen still held the fluorescent green butterfly on a single finger. She stroked it, then drew a likewise stroking glance along the length of his body. He’d been undressed by a lustful angeling’s gaze before, so it took little imagination to know the queen’s intent.
He couldn’t help curling his lip in disgust.
“Oh, now.” The queen pouted. “Am I so unlovely to look upon that you must make that face?”
He had no answer to that. Not a civil one, anyway.
She prowled around him, letting her eyes feast. He stood obediently still, waiting for her to circle back.
“I presume Tajael explained—”
“Oh, yes, he explained,” she purred. “That a shadow angeling was in need of my help.”
“That we have a common foe—”
“That too.” She stopped in front of him again and smiled lasciviously. “I once asked Tajael if he were interested in having his Fall in my bed.”
Okay. He couldn’t help the rise in his eyebrows. “And?”
“And… he was too pure for that. But you…”
He leaned back a little. “I am here for your help in…” He stalled out, seeing too late where this was headed.
“Yes, but in exchange for what?” Her colorless eyes lit up, and she passed the green butterfly in front of his face. “An aphrodisiac, if you’re in need of one. Although I’d prefer you in your natural, broken and terribly Fallen state.”
A chill ran through him. “I’m sure I’m not to your taste.”
“Oh, but I’m certain you are.” She licked her lips and stepped closer. “I can have any fae in my Court, in any manner I please, but they all must love me, don’t you see? They must curry favor with their queen. And yet, I have, on occasion, a taste for something different. Something altogether… naughty.”
“I’m sure a number of angelings in my Regiment would be happy to—”
“Yes, but you are in my throne room. Asking for favors.”
Asa sighed. She wasn’t letting this go—what in the name of magic did Tajael promise her? And while he was disgusted by any contact with a fae, much less an intimate one, he would do it in the cause of infiltrating and bringing down Elyon. But he feared… he might simply displease the queen. In her bed. Because he was broken in the ways of pleasure, not to mention completely inexperienced. Which would put his entire mission at risk.
“Your majesty,” he said, softening his rigid stance and imploring her with his eyes. “I am not your typical shadow angeling.”
A slow smile grew on her face. “All the better.”
He briefly closed his eyes. When he opened them, she had closed the space between them, her high and pointed breasts nearly touching his chest armor. Her lips were parted, her eyes expectant.
He put his hands on her shoulders then leaned away.
A small cloud of anger gathered on her face. The butterfly was suddenly in his face, its green wings pulsing and nearly brushing his cheek. He tried to lean away, but some magic had gripped him and held him in place.
“Perhaps my sprite will have you convinced.”
“Nyssa, please.”
His use of her name made her blink.
“You don’t understand.” He struggled against the unseen force, trying not to let the sprite’s wings touch him. “I’m not like other shadowlings in that my Fall was Wrath, not Lust.”
She frowned and pulled back. “That is unusual.”
He breathed a little easier. “I fear I would be a bumbling fool in your bed, Queen Nyssa. You deserve better than that. I’ll arrange for another to take my place in that regard. Whatever you wish.” He was talking fast now as she pulled further away. “But I need your assistance in infiltrating Elyon’s Regiment.”
“You need?” She arched an eyebrow, but her voice was cool. “I thought this was to benefit Razael’s quest to contain Elyon and his ambitions.”
It was a figure of speech, but since it intrigued her… “Yes, I have a personal stake in this. My Fall involved a human. One I loved desperately but never… never consummated that love. Elyon’s minions destroyed her. I will have my vengeance upon him. For her. And her child.”
Both her eyebrows lifted. “Driven by love, then. Even in shadow.”
That flushed heat through him—he couldn’t tell if it was embarrassment or a strange sort of danger signal as if the fae queen were close to knowing something about him he didn’t know himself. “Driven by revenge. And a pure need for it, too.”
She nodded, absently, then lifted her fingers to liberate the sprite she had threatened him with.
“I’ve already sent a hundred fae warriors to strengthen Razael’s Regiment,” she said with more warmth. “And I’ll deliver you to the angel Zuriel. She’ll be able to send you where you need to go.”
Asa’s shoulders had hunched up—he let them drop. “Thank you.”
She gave him a nod, then placed a hand on his shoulder. Her tou
ch was light—he barely felt it through his rough leather armor. When she leaned close and looked up into his eyes, her expression was softer. Almost sweet.
It captured him with surprise.
“When you have avenged your True Love,” she whispered, like it was a secret, “come to me. I will teach you all the things you have missed, my dark angeling.”
His mouth dropped open, but no words came. It wasn’t a demand, more an offer… and one he strangely considered for a brief moment. There was a certain… liberation… in knowing the fae Queen would take what she wanted and expect nothing from him other than that.
“Perhaps I shall,” he whispered in return.
One corner of her mouth curled up.
Then she twisted, opened an interdimensional portal, and yanked them both out of her throne room. The queen brought him to a new magical space, only this one was in the style of the ancients. Soaring stone archways and black granite underfoot, this palace looked like a castle of earthly pale rock and mortar. He and the fae queen stood on a flagstone balcony that jutted out over an abyss of shadow and surrounded by a silo of craggy stone cliffs. Shadow angelings filled the air and clung to the walls and stood on either side of the throne.
It took Asa a moment to see the female angel who sat upon it, she was so covered in the attention of her angelings… and she was human-sized, not the inhumanly large manifestation most angels wore.
She lounged back on the stone chair, legs spread, arms flung to the sides. A female angeling had her face between the angel’s legs, pleasing her there, while two males attended to her breasts with their mouths and hands. A fourth angeling clung to the headpiece of the throne, straddling her head and feeding his cock to her. Several more crowded the sides of her throne, seeking the angel’s touch, even just on their wrists or faces. They shuddered with pleasure, eyes rolled back, mouths agape.
The moans and whimpers were so loud, Nyssa had to draw close to make herself heard. “Now this is what I’m talking about, Asa, darling.”
Asa had heard tell of the insane pleasure an angel could bring—it was a constant grumble in Razael’s Regiment that he did not fuck his angelings the way other shadow angels did.
