But if he ever had the fortune to meet Metatron again, the selfish bastard would feel his full wrath.
“The whereabouts of Daeden, do you know them?” Sammiél asked.
Barrin shook his head. “I have no occasion to keep company with one as exalted as him.”
“Exalted.” His voice dipped and Barrin’s eyes widened. Sammiél halted his transformation at the black skull visible staged.
“Yes, Sire. S-sorry. Sammiél. Daeden leads the Reapers in your absence.”
Sammiél smelled the sulfur and heard the crackle before the flames were reflected in Barrin’s eyes. “By whose authority?” His voice held all the warmth of a tomb.
“I-I don’t know. I never thought to ask. He was the leader when I joined the Reapers. It was not my place to question.” Barrin curled into another deep bow.
Why the rage when Sammiél shouldn’t care who led the Reapers? He hadn’t cared since before the Fall, so why now? He filtered the rage from his system as he spun and headed for the nearest corner.
“If I may be so bold to ask, Sire, is there something I may aid you with?”
Sammiél paused. The reason he wanted Daeden was for his strength. He was the oldest of the Reapers. Traveling through the underworld would be effortless for him. Sammiél could wait and continue to search for Daeden, except he sensed time was short for Gemma, the angel in need of rescue…if she still lived. No being warranted a stay in Hell if they didn’t deserve it.
But he wasn’t present and something had lead Sammiél here, to Barrin. Though young, he wasn’t powerless. Which may be a benefit. Daeden’s presence in Hell—a Reaper at the pinnacle of his power—would surely draw the attention of the Demoni Lords, while Barrin, the fledgling, could slip in and out undetected.
“Yes,” Sammiél said. “There is a deed I need accomplished. One I cannot do myself.”
Barrin bowed low enough for his forehead to scrape the tile. “Of course. Anything you require.”
So eager. He must not have heard the axiom, never volunteer for anything. Good thing. “There is someone in Hell that shouldn’t be. I need you to retrieve her.”
“Her? Sire?” Barrin’s voice was heavy with speculation.
“Yes. Her. She is an angel.”
“Fallen.” Barrin assumed.
“No. She’s not.”
Barrin looked up. His brows knit together with a list of unspoken questions, which he wisely kept to himself.
“I know not what level she is on, but it’s certain a Demoni Lord will have her.”
“If she lives.”
Sammiél nodded once. “If she lives.”
“The angel I seek, what is her name?”
Sammiél gave the name Michael had given him. “Gemma.”
“I will find her for you, dead or alive.”
Not for me. For Michael. Sammiél eyed the eager fool and had a moment of sympathy. “You ever been to Hell?”
“Once, with Daeden.”
Sammiél grunted his approval. The usurper had done something correct.
“Sire, when I find her, shall I bring her to you?”
Sammiél snorted. “I have no use for an angel. Set her free.” He headed for the shadows.
“Sire?”
“Didn’t I tell you not to call me that?”
Barrin ducked his chin to his chest. “Sammiél, when I’m done, where can I find you?”
Shadows had already begun to swallow him when he spat, “You can find me searching for Daeden. We have some issues to discuss.”
Chapter Eighteen
For a change, anger wasn’t the emotion fueling Amaya. Resolve grinded her gears. The audacity of Bane, the UnHallowed, and Malphas joining forces to keep me in my place, left her with one choice—beat them. Beat them all at the mind fuck they’d just pulled.
After all that she’d done, conquered, proved, saved, she wasn’t strong enough to join them in catching a Spaun. It was Braile and Michael all over again. Not good enough, fast enough, strong enough, the list went on and on.
So what she passed out—NOT FAINTED. She kicked ass, pushed herself to the limit, and passed out. No one could make her believe not a single angel, arch or otherwise, and not a single UnHallowed had not ever passed out.
From Braile to Chay, she lined them up from what she considered strongest to weakest and…no she couldn’t see a single one of them fainting. Passing out. Whatever!
This wasn’t fair. What in life was? But the injustice of it, stuck and like acid, burned. You don’t claim to love someone and take away their power, shove them in a corner, tell them to ‘Wait here, I’ll be back’. You don’t say, ‘I love you,’ to keep someone in the place you think they should be. Then the ‘I love you’ becomes a shackle around their ankles to keep them grounded when they want to fly, and a vice around their spirit to keep them from excelling.
Besides, saying those three words didn’t negate the fact that he left her—again! The third damn time! Just like everybody else. Didn’t have the decency to explain why he treated her like a roadside screw, a pump and dump, and she let him get away with it. What was it about her that made everyone run in the opposite direction? Braile and Michael wanted a soldier, and here she was, GI Jane and Rambolina all in one package. Bane wanted sex and she gave it up only to be left, again.
Amaya’s heart cracked. Her first I love you and it was worthless.
A moment of pity—a long moment—was all she gave herself, then she shoved every doubt away. Time to do what she did best. First, she stocked up on power bars she found in the kitchen because her next action was sure to drain her.
Malphas had screwed up and told her exactly what an angel could do, what she was capable of. She didn’t have a chance to thank him. She’d rectify that now.
Her power had always lay in her determination to be exceptional because better wasn’t the best. And when better wasn’t good enough, be unfuckable. That’s what she reached for now, that level where nothing held her back, not someone’s idea of saving her, and not her own opinion.
She remembered Malphas’s movements, his outstretched hand, and the way he rotated his wrist, turned his palm as if he’d scooped air. It wasn’t air he’d captured, but energy. He’d pulled dimensional energy out of the air, pooled, and shaped it into a sphere.
Amaya closed her eyes and focused while mimicking Malphas’s actions. She didn’t need to open her eyes to know her palm remained empty.
No way is a Demoni Lord more powerful than me.
She fine-tuned her focus by shedding everything, including her anger, and lasered her attention on what she wanted, a dimensional pocket. She drew on every resource at her disposal, laid it all on the line. Right here. Right now.
A tingle raced up her arm, yanked at the center of her chest. She gasped as her soul shifted to the left. Her marrow shook, the strangest vibration raced down her arm, and landed in her palm. Amaya peeked through her lashes at a spiraling globe of light in the center of her hand.
She stifled the cheer threatening to explode because she wasn’t done. The baseball-sized orb wouldn’t cut it. The sphere had to be big enough for her to fit inside. “Come on, baby. Grow for mama.”
Another tug on the center of her chest and the sphere expanded. Her vision wavered. No time for this again, Amaya used her free hand to retrieve a power bar out of her pocket. She ripped it open with her teeth and ate it in two bites. All the while, the sphere grew, once, twice, three times in size. When it was too heavy to hold, she released it to settle in front of her, slightly hovering over the hardwood. A wave of her hand over the shiny surface as she whispered, “Open,” caused the side facing her to dispel.
She grabbed the map Bane had been studying when she entered the room and stepped into the sphere. It closed behind her. She had no idea Bane and company’s destination. But the smudge marks on the map gave her a clue.
Whether they liked it or not, she was on her way.
~~~~~
Bane walked at the head
of the pack, next to him, Malphas. The rest fanned out behind him in an arc, better to let nothing escape their sight.
“I believe this was a staging area. Whatever killed the angels, staged here. Then moved to Kilimanjaro.” Malphas stopped at the beginning of a concave area, strewn with twigs, grass, and dirt, like a nest. A great big nest.
“Blasphemous!” snarled Zed. Bane wasn’t sure where Zed directed his indignation—at the Spaun or the location, Temple Mount. The nest was well below the most hotly contested piece of real estate on the entire planet.
“What lived here?” Bane asked Malphas.
“Spaun. Many of them.”
“All under your nose and you knew nothing of it?” Kush didn’t do subtle. Skepticism dripped from each word. “We need a number. Not your fucking guestimate.”
“Was it enough Spaun to kill hundreds of angels?” Daghony stepped in front of Kush and asked. Bane had informed all of them of the angels’ deaths on the battlefield on the slopes of Kilimanjaro.
“Yes. By my best guestimate,” Malphas snapped.
“You don’t know that. Since your man, Taige, has staged his takeover, you don’t know anything for certain. What if their great uprising is more than just a handful of Spaun?” Chay kicked over a rock and examined the area beneath.
“Doesn’t matter the number of Spaun. The number of dead angels is all that counts.” Rimmon scowled. “If he managed to kill hundreds of angels, then he had effectively eliminated one-third of his opposition.”
“His greatest opposition. Has anyone been in contact with any angels recently?” Malphas glanced at all of them, waiting for an answer.
Bane thought of Michael. He had called for the archangel when Amaya had first collapsed. The bastard ignored him. “We don’t have any on speed dial.”
“Not even Michael?” Malphas said. This time he didn’t wait for an answer. “Now all Taige has to worry about is the UnHallowed. The two of you removed from the playing field leaves the Demoni Lords free to roam.”
“Exactly what you want.” Kush shoved around Daghony.
“I’ve been roaming free for millennia, idiot.” Malphas stepped into the nest. He kicked aside the twigs, dirt, and grass as he progressed.
“How did he do it? One warrior class angel could easily kill one hundred or more Spaun. A single touch of empyreal steel and they incinerate.” Bane followed Malphas’s footsteps.
Malphas dropped to his haunches and smoothed the dirt away from something shiny. “That is the billion dollar question. A few humans infested with Darklings is not impressive. Like I said, I perfected the method eons ago.”
“You sack of pus!” Kush stepped forward and Zed—former Archangel of Mercy—was right beside him.
Ioath, Daghony, and Gadreel cut them off. “No time for fun. Stay on task,” Ioath said.
“As I was saying, humans are social. One goes a day without posting on Facebook or tweeting out a selfie, people notice. File a complaint. Get the authorities involved. So how did he get so many to do his bidding without a single one balking? There are lots of third world countries where a few thousand missing would be seen as a blessing, not a curse.” Malphas plucked an object from the dirt and held it up for inspection.
“What is that?” From Bane’s vantage point, it looked like a coin. Malphas rolled it around his fingers and held it out for Bane’s scrutiny. He shrugged. “UnHallowed have no need for money.”
“It’s a ruble.” Malphas provided.
Bane took the coin from his palm and ran a thumb over the raised Cyrillic lettering. “We’re heading to Russia.”
“Russia is a big damn country. Narrow it down,” Kush demanded.
“Siberia,” Malphas replied with equal venom.
“Good to know,” came from a highly pissed off voice.
Pride isn’t what Bane should feel, but damn, that’s exactly what coursed through his veins as he drank in the sight of her. Pride, an abundance of love, and a good dose of exasperation.
Tahariél barked out a laugh. “Girl! You are a keeper.”
Amaya puckered up and threw Riél a kiss that had Bane more than a little jealous. She stood at the mouth of the cave, hands on hips, weapons fisted, legs braced apart, ready to charge forward into danger, not run away.
By the smiles and murmured greetings as they filed past her and exited, the rest of the UnHallowed felt the same as Riél, even Zed grinned at Amaya. Malphas took his time strolling up to her. Bane couldn’t hear their exchange. Regardless, his jealousy ratcheted up another notch, even though she ignored the Demoni Lord.
“Amaya,” he said when she turned to follow Malphas. She stopped but kept her back to him.
“I don’t want your apology.”
“Wasn’t going to give it.”
She kept walking, her angry strut no less sexy than her bedroom stroll, his cock noted. He followed, grabbed her by the arm, stopping her before she exited the tunnel and joined the others. He spun her and pinned her to the cave wall. “You just won’t quit, will you?”
She growled low, like a cornered animal. “I don’t know how to quit. I never learned.”
Damn it! At every turn, she impressed the fuck out of him. He could take her to the farm, chain her to a chair and she would be free the second he turned his back. Amaya wouldn’t be denied. Anything she wanted, she took it by the balls and never looked back. “I won’t apologize for loving you. Wanting you safe.”
“This isn’t about love!” She pushed at him, but he wouldn’t budge.
“Then you’re a fool because it’s always about love. If not, then what are we fighting for? What is the human race fighting for?”
Her head whipped back and forth, and she waved a finger between the two of them. “This isn’t love.”
This was all about love. The ache in his chest every time he looked at her, touched, tasted, caught her scent. But he wouldn’t argue with her. “So I’m supposed to let you walk into battle, put yourself in danger, and do nothing?”
She shoved him. This time he released her and moved away. “It’s not your choice to make. It’s mine. You don’t get a vote.” She tried to walk past him and he hemmed her up again, the length of him leaning into her, pressing her back into the wall. Her breath hitched when her breasts flattened against his chest, and when their abs and pelvises met in a tango of erotic movements as she fought to get away.
He cupped her face, forcing her to look into his eyes. “Then you vote. Vote to live. Me and you. We walk away from this right now.”
The indecision in her eyes was a living, breathing thing. He didn’t mean to put her through this, giving her a choice when there really wasn’t one. Just as she was incapable of walking away from any fight, so was he.
But the indecision expanding in her pupils, oh, it was beautiful because of what it meant. His offer tempted her. A life with him wasn’t something she could easily discard.
“I leave when the job is done. Not before,” she snapped.
“Of course.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Reverse psychology bullshit won’t work on me.” But she didn’t push him away.
“Cause you’re too smart. Too brave. Too everything. And I’m too much of a coward to see you fall at my feet again.” He nuzzled her neck and she held him there, one hand around his neck, the other threading through his hair.
“I won’t be falling at your feet or anyone else’s. I stuffed granola bars in my pockets.” She yanked his head back and smirked.
If only it were that simple. Living thousands of years gave a being a different perspective on the nature of life and death. For now, it would have to do. “You’re practically invincible.” Desperately, he wished that were true.
Lips tight and angry, she nodded. “I am. Too bad you didn’t recognize it.” She released him.
But he didn’t release her, he held her to him. “I won’t apologize—”
“I didn’t ask you for one,” she growled. “I don’t need your apology or your permission to d
o what I was trained for. Braile, Michael, you, none of you control me. None!”
“I’m not trying to control you.”
“You’re trying so hard, you don’t even realize it,” she said between gritted teeth. She yanked free and waved a finger between them. “This, what this is—was—is over. It was a mistake.” She marched away and he let her.
A bunch of questions fired his way through the UnHallowed mental link as Amaya stormed over to her dimensional pocket. He ignored them all, including Zed who snorted and called him pussywhipped. Bane didn’t deny it. Keeping her safe requires keeping an eye on her, whether she wants me to or not. He headed toward the shadows as Malphas shouted the coordinates.
“First one there buys me dinner,” Amaya snickered as she opened a dimensional pocket and took off before the rest of them.
Chapter Nineteen
Forget Dinner. There wasn’t a single soul within five miles of the dilapidated structure, never mind a restaurant. Amaya nibbled on a granola bar as the lot of them gazed at the dark house in the small clearing. Romanesque in design, the two front columns had collapsed onto the overrun porch, along with part of the roof. She strained her senses to catch any hint of danger—a scent, a sound, anything—and came up dry. A quick glance at everyone confirmed she wasn’t alone in her assessment. No one clutched their weapons.
A cold wind blew through the trees causing a shiver to race down her spine. “We’re in June, right?” she asked no one in particular.
Riél shrugged. “Global warming?”
“A balmy day in Siberia.” Malphas took the lead.
“Russia’s a big country. How sure are you about this being the place?” she whispered, certain Malphas heard.
He flipped the coin at her. She caught it on the fly as he said, “The date.”
Only You (UnHallowed Series Book 3) Page 12
