Lightning flashed again as waves crashed and roared, as the winds howled, and there again—great bat wings under the swirling clouds, and a shriek from above, a shriek that ached in Nathaniel’s old bones.
Yaram and Nathaniel stared. They both had seen those wings, those red, burning eyes.
The watch bell clanged in the guard tower behind them, ringing clearly even in the howling storm. Micah sounding the alarm, Nathaniel knew.
Clattering footfalls came from the staircase leading up the wall. Nathaniel and Yaram spun, raising their spears. It was Bat El running up toward them, her gilded armor perfectly polished, her blond hair pulled into a prim, proper bun. Great, Nathaniel thought with a grunt. If anything could make this night worse, it was the presence of Bat El, the prissy daughter of Archangel Gabriel himself.
“The alarm—” Bat El began, blue eyes wide.
“A winged creature,” Nathaniel grumbled. “Neither demon nor angel.” He hated that his words made him shudder. I need a drink.
“There!” Yaram shouted over the crashing waves, pointing to the beach below. They looked and saw it—a darker shade of black, red eyes burning, a halo of flame wreathing its brow.
“Dear God, don’t tell me it’s her,” Bat El whispered, blanching. She unfurled her swan wings and leapt off the wall, gliding toward the creature.
“Damn it!” Nathaniel said. “Yaram, we follow.”
He would have to share Yaram’s wings; sometimes wingless angels had to give up some pride. He grabbed Yaram and leapt from the wall, pulling the younger angel with him. Yaram spread his swan wings, caught the storming winds, and they hit the rocky beach below the fort. Through the crashing waves, Nathaniel glimpsed Bat El racing toward where they had seen the creature.
Stupid girl, Nathaniel thought. He pushed himself up and began running after her. If that creature was truly her, truly who they thought, none of them could face her. There were few from Hell or Heaven—not even Gabriel’s daughter—who could challenge that thing and live.
Yaram screamed beside him. Nathaniel turned to stare with his good eye. Through the crashing foam, Yaram fell, helmet cracked, neck shred open. Nathaniel cursed and raised his spear.
Red eyes burned in the night, two lit coals. Fangs pushed through a chaotic smile. It was her, Nathaniel knew.
The demon’s daughter. The half-angel.
Laila.
God help us, she’s back.
“Bat El!” Nathaniel shouted, when great bat wings slammed against him, sending him flying. He crashed into the waters, salt filling his mouth and nostrils. The waves slammed him against the fort’s mossy wall, ringing filled his ears, and he tumbled to the ground. With his last bits of consciousness, he glimpsed the creature gliding through the night, and then the waves slammed Nathaniel against the wall again, and all thought faded.
Firefly Island, an Epic Fantasy Page 33
