I turned my back on the burst of light and the pull of his spirit being sucked back to the divine ether. The three remaining Fallen were already advancing. They moved on me at once, and I shifted to the corner, forcing them to take turns striking at me. One by one I took their lives, sending each to the body of their Father, never to return.
When the air settled from the last angelic death, debris slowly floating to the floor, I took stock of what was left. Chairs lay in disarray, overturned and broken. Papers, notebooks, and abandoned convention swag bags were strewn everywhere.
At the back of the room, cameras, left where they stood, still recorded everything. In front of them sat the two seraphim exactly where I’d first seen them.
The yellow-haired seraphim stood first, glancing at those humming cameras. The nearest one suddenly sparked and smoked, and like a run of dominos, the next one went and the next and the next, right down the line from one wall to the next.
The blue-haired angel stood, his long hands clasped in front of him, his narrow face looking all the more alien because of the somber frown. They stared at me with those creepy white eyes until I couldn’t take the silence.
“He’s not human. Not anymore. Jukar changed him. He’s more angel now than human.” I stepped closer, needing them to understand. “If I’d let them strike him down, everyone would think they’d killed him. He’d seem dead, but he’d heal like I did. Humanity would see him as some sort of Messiah rising from the dead. Whatever else happens, letting him be killed would be so much worse. You have to see that.”
Without a word, or even so much as batting an eye, the yellow-haired seraph vanished.
“Wait. What about Eli? You can’t banish him now.” My heart hammered so loud I could hardly think. “Are you going to let him go?”
The blue-haired angel tilted his head, his white eyes studying me.
“I did what I had to. You know that. You can tell Gabriel. Please. Tell him to let Eli go,” I said, but the angel only turned his back, took a step, and vanished.
“Hey! No. It’s not fair. I didn’t have a choice,” I yelled into the empty room. But I knew it was too late. It didn’t matter if I had a good reason, if I’d singlehandedly saved humanity from a false Messiah. I disobeyed the Council, and the Council of Seven was all about obedience.
My brain felt three sizes too big, pressing against the inside of my skull. I wanted to scream, but I couldn’t remember how. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be real. But Gabriel had promised to banish Eli himself if I even hinted I might defy them. There was no chance he wouldn’t stay true to his word. The archangel hated me. They’d all believed I was a traitor now.
“Emma Jane.” I spun toward the stage to see Eli on his knees, Gabriel standing behind him, gleaming sword drawn.
“Eli.” My weight shifted, instinct urging me to go to him, but Gabriel tensed.
“Do not interfere,” the archangel said. “Your defiance warrants no indulgence from us. Stay where you are, or he goes to the abyss without another word.”
“Listen to me, Emma Jane,” Eli hurried to say as though he might not get the chance to finish. “You made the right choice. They know this, although they are loathe to admit it. Be patient.” Gabriel raised his sword to his shoulder, his white eyes fixed on the back of Eli’s neck. “Be loyal. Be good. And know that I regret nothing,” Eli said as Gabriel’s sword began its hard swing toward him. “I love—”
They were gone the instant the archangel’s sword contacted Eli’s flesh. My heart stopped. An eternity passed, no sound, no air, and my mind stuck, holding on to that single instant, refusing to allow the next moment to come. If it came, if the clock ticked the next second, it would be too late. Eli would be gone, locked in the abyss, forever changed. I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t want to.
Then my body demanded it. I took a breath, and the world crashed in around me, deafening and too painfully real. I dropped, my knees hitting the solid floor hard, the sensation rattling through my bones though I didn’t feel it. My throat burned. I wasn’t sure why until my lungs insisted on another breath. The sobbing screaming in my ears broke off, then started again when my lungs were full. I was screaming. Wordless. Soulless. Drowning in pain.
“Eli. No. No. Eli. Eli!” It couldn’t be real. It couldn’t be. My body bent forward and lay down, my face, my neck, my chest all wet with tears. I curled into a ball, drawing up my knees, wanting to sink into the floor. My chest ached as though my heart had been run through over and over, as though the sword still lodged there, twisting and twisting. I wanted that. I wanted to die. I didn’t want this life if Eli would never be a part of it.
Abram’s voice whispered through my mind. “Emma, I need you.”
“No.” I squeezed my eyes shut, not wanting to hear him, not wanting to think. “Go away, Abram. Just go away.”
“Did you really think I’d just stick around there after what you did?”
He was gone? I hadn’t even thought about him, hadn’t noticed. “I don’t care. Take over the fucking world if you want, Abram. I’m done. You’re their problem now.”
“Emma Jane,” Abram said. “I’ve still got the ring. I can use it to open the abyss and free Eli.”
The world stopped. “What?”
“I can give Eli back to you,” he said.
“Where are you?”
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Did you know this building was erected over a weak spot between planes?” Abram asked the instant I teleported in front of him. He’d seen me coming despite my speed. I didn’t care.
My attention moved past him to the fifty or so fallen angels and at least double that many demons standing in a mute crowd, just watching. I would’ve asked. But I didn’t really care. Not anymore.
Instead I twisted to look over my shoulder at the towering Cathedral of Learning at the center of the University of Pittsburgh campus. I squinted even though it blocked most of the sun behind me, then turned back to Abram. “No.”
“Well, technically the weak spot is here on the grounds, but you know what I mean.” He held open his hands, gesturing to the spot where he stood. He looked the same as he had at the convention, still dressed in the nicely tailored blue suit and light blue shirt and tie.
City surrounded the Cathedral of Learning, and the grounds he spoke of were mostly on this one side. The other three sides consisted of a short span of grass, paved walking paths, and the occasional tree or line of bushes before quickly reaching the wide city sidewalk.
On this side, though, the expansive grassy area spilled down a rolling slope dotted with tall, leafy trees before flattening out and eventually edging another sidewalk in the distance.
A small chapel stood nestled beneath a cluster of old trees, connected to the cathedral by a tree-lined walkway. The quaint chapel had the same gothic architecture as the much-larger cathedral.
Abram and his posse stood below that path among the trees, yards away from both the cathedral and the chapel.
“Actually, I don’t know what you mean.” I had run out of patience, and I found zero reasons I had to put up with this kid’s crap anymore. He wasn’t my problem. None of them were. “You said you could free Eli. So do it.”
I didn’t totally believe he could do it—or would, but I couldn’t pass up even the possibility of seeing Eli again.
Then Amon stepped from behind one of the taller men and made his way to Abram’s side. The stunning demon stood more than a foot taller than my brother, and his sandy-blond tresses made Abram’s strawberry hair pale in comparison. “He needs your sword.”
“Uh, no.” I laughed on reflex but then noticed something off about the hottie demon. “Hey, you okay?”
The blue-eyed model stared, unblinking, silent.
“Oh. Yeah. That’s my fault.” Abram patted Amon on the shoulder then gave it a friendly squeeze. “I, um, wasn’t completely honest with you, sis. When I told you I didn’t know what sort of power came with the ring, I lied. Michael said
you’d get all bent out of shape if you knew the real reason I wanted it. So I played dumb, and it worked. You didn’t get suspicious. At least not of me.”
I took a better look at Amon and the zombified horde behind him. “You’re controlling all of them?”
My brother shrugged. “Mostly. Demons are easier than Fallen. I think it has something to do with having been in the abyss with all that brimstone. Makes them more pliant or something. I can feel the Fallen resisting, but they want to please dear old Dad, so they’re not fighting too much.”
“And Michael told you to keep the truth from me?” I don’t know why I was surprised. The archangel clearly had an agenda, and he didn’t care who he used to achieve it. Still, instincts tingled like an electric current through my veins. Clueless was so not a good look on me.
Abram nodded. “Yup. Now, I really am going to need that sword of yours.”
“You don’t say? Well, that’s not going to happen.” I held my hands out, showing off my distinct lack of swords.
A crooked smile lifted the left side of my mouth, and he shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, looking away for a second and back again. “No. I get it. Really. I understand. I mean it’s not like an illorum sword, right? After what Jukar did it’s more a part of you. Just like an angel’s sword.”
He wasn’t wrong. Giving him my sword would be like removing my hand. But that wasn’t the only reason. Call me crazy, but I just didn’t trust the kid. I dropped my hands back to my sides. “So why bother asking?”
He looked at Amon, and the demon suddenly came to life, that glassy look in his eyes clearing. “It’s the only way to open the abyss. Because of what you were and what you are now, your sword is unlike any other in existence. It’s the only one that will work with the ring to open the abyss. It’s the only way we can free them, Emma.”
“It’s the only way you’ll see Eli again.” Abram smoothed a hand down his tie, reminding me of our father. “C’mon, Emma. Relax. I’m not a threat to you. I need you. We’re a matched set, a team, like King Arthur and Lancelot, Caesar and his Praefectus, God and the archangel Michael.”
“You are so off, little man,” I said, but thoughts of Eli slipped through my mind again. If I never saw him again, would it matter if I didn’t have my sword, if I didn’t have my hand? I drew my sword, weighed the consequences against a lifetime without Eli, then handed it to Abram.
“Nice.” He twirled the blade, feeling its weight and balance. His smile turned lecherous. “I can feel you. It’s good having you in the palm of my hand.”
“Right. Okay, that’s enough.” I held out my hand. “If you’re not going to do this thing, just give it back.”
Amon moved between us, blocking me. “No.”
“Calm down.” Abram laughed. “I’ll open the abyss. I wanna test something first.” He double-gripped the handle, holding the blade vertical in front of him and closed his eyes. “Father? Won’t you come say hello? Now.”
The fallen archangel appeared almost instantly, outrage darkening his pale blue eyes. He turned, straightening his tie and smoothing his suit jacket. Then his gaze fell on Abram. “You presumptuous little bastard. How dare you summon me?” He drew his sword and lunged at Abram, but Amon tackled him like a linebacker.
My father stumbled back with the demon’s arms latched around his waist, his shoulder rammed into his gut, and his head tucked against his side. Jukar glared down at the weaker man then slammed the pummel of his sword into Amon’s back.
Amon cried out but didn’t let go, his feet plowing the soft grass, fighting to drive the archangel another step, or at least stop him from advancing.
“Didn’t you know, Father?” Abram asked, utterly confident. “It’s the destiny of every son to take his father’s place. You made me what I am: the perfect blend of human and angel. I’m not just the next step in human evolution. I’m the next step for angels as well. You’re obsolete.”
The archangel roared, the sound echoing off the trees, vibrating the air so it shook through me. Acting with one mind, the fallen angels behind Abram moved forward, the demons rushing between them surrounding the nephilim. In an instant a wall of bodies, Fallen and demon alike, stood between Jukar and his son.
He glowered at the obstacle his brothers made, indecision flickering across his face before turning his anger to the easier target around his waist. Jukar grabbed Amon by the hair and yanked him hard. The demon didn’t stand a chance against the more powerful angel.
His hold slipped, and the fallen archangel flung him away. Amon tumbled across the lawn, flip-flopping like a ragdoll head over feet until he crashed into a thick tree trunk. Leaves showered down on the still body, and Jukar’s rage radiated off him unsatisfied, the heat of it making it hard to breathe. He stormed after the demon, murder in his eyes, but when he swung his sword it wasn’t Amon’s body he struck. It was Liam’s sword.
The little leprechaun-looking man appeared at the last moment, too late to push Amon out of the way, his illorum blade blocking Jukar’s powerful strike. Everything happened in hyper speed. Before I could decide what to do, my father and my friend battled, sparks lighting off their colliding blades, sprays of blood spattering the grass each time Liam moved a fraction too slow.
I raced toward them, teleporting the moment Jukar’s sword hacked off Liam’s hand, sending his blade spinning through the air and leaving him helplessly unarmed. His scream of pain lanced through me, tightening my chest even as time and space folded around me.
At the last instant I changed direction, stopping over Liam’s severed hand. My stomach roiled, but I snatched the hilt from the lifeless, bloody grip.
Amon had rejoined the fight, a black demon sword gleaming through the air as he fought the powerful archangel, protecting Liam with everything he had. The fuzzy redhead, Liam, scrambled backward, trying hard not to trip Amon as he fought. But each blow of the archangel’s sword took a devastating toll. Deep cuts oozed black blood on Amon’s face, across his belly, and another one on his thigh. He weakened, the injuries too severe and my father too powerful to defend against. Amon would be killed in less than a minute, Liam an instant after that.
My powers fluttered through me, the brush of wings whispering against my ears. Even as I moved I saw Jukar’s blade sailing toward Amon, the last blow having driven the pretty man to his knees, leaving him too tired, too hurt to raise his sword and block this final strike.
I arrived before blade met flesh, shoving Liam’s illorum sword between Jukar’s hammer-hard blow and Amon’s skull. My strength held, and I used my borrowed sword to shove Jukar back.
He blinked at me, a flurry of emotions flickering across his face: surprise, betrayal, anger. “You, too, my sweet daughter? You would use the gifts I’ve given you to see me dead?”
“I never needed your twisted gifts to kill you, Jukar.” I found my balance, centering myself for the mother of all fights. “I was born for this, remember?”
A creepy smile stretched across his face. “That’s right. So the time has finally come. Of the thousands of children I’ve fathered there has been only one who possessed the strength of will to find me. And only one born with a mind strong enough to withstand the angelic infusion. I suppose it was fate that the two characteristics were gifted in you.”
“Dumb luck, huh?” I said.
“Not really.” He took a step back, giving us more room to fight. “I knew the forced evolution would make you a worthy adversary as well. But I’d hoped you would’ve found a kind of love, if not loyalty, for me by now.”
I shrugged. “Guess not.”
“Too true,” he said, and then vanished.
At least there was a time it would’ve seemed that way. He was an archangel, but he was Fallen, and I was as powerful as a seraph. Well, almost. Jukar became little more than a blur, but I tracked him, folding time and space up the hill toward the small chapel. A half beat after he stepped over the threshold I stood there, sword drawn.
Be
ing faster than a fallen archangel didn’t make killing him easy. He’d been battling for eons before my birth. He’d fought in the wars, and he’d killed countless angels. But it wasn’t until I raced into that church behind him and narrowly missed the lightning-quick slash of his sword that I remembered that fact.
I’d barely stopped when my eyes caught the flash of his sword. I threw myself backward, landing hard on my ass, my head smacking the hard tiled floor of the church. The wind from his swing chilled over my face, and I rolled, desperate to get to my feet again.
The Fallen archangel didn’t spare me a second, stomping after me, swinging when I managed to get one foot under me. I dove between the pews just as his sword hacked off a huge chunk of wood where my neck had been.
I rolled under the next pew and then the next, finally putting enough space and obstacles between me and him that I could get to my feet. The instant I had the floor under my soles, I teleported to the front of the chapel, stopping in front of the altar, sword up, ready.
“You won’t survive this, daughter,” he said from where I’d left him at the back of the church. “It’s not too late to lay down your sword and join me. And as your first act of allegiance, you may kill your brother.”
“This is because he can pull your strings like a puppet, huh?” I shook my head. “Kids. Can’t trust them to take over the world for you, and y’can’t kill ’em. At least not without help.”
He laughed, though the irritation tightened his shoulders, making the line of his suit jacket perfectly straight. “The boy can’t truly control me. The ring is powerful, but it was your sword that gave him the strength to summon me. Without your sword he struggles to hold even the lesser Fallen. Only those who’ve been weakened by the abyss, the demons, are truly slaves to him. But, yes. Until you retrieve your sword, I need you to kill him.”
Hellsbane Hereafter (Entangled Select Otherworld) Page 29
