by Meg Collett
“I can protect the seals. They make you weak. So does that human with the Apocrypha marks on his arms.” Gabriel’s eyes shifted over her shoulder, looking for Clark. Michaela stepped in front of him to block his view.
“No, they don’t.” Michaela crossed her arms.
“Why are you being so stubborn?” Gabriel leaned in, his eyes like another fire in the night.
The dream, Michaela thought. The vision. She was afraid. No one could have the seals but her. She was the only one who knew what would happen if anyone broke them. Her eyes drifted to meet Gabriel’s. Tell him, a voice inside her head nagged.
“Gabe,” she hesitated. The words felt like a secret at the back of her throat. “If the seals are broken, Earth is not the only thing that will end. Its destruction will take Heaven and Hell with it. Everyone will die.”
Gabriel tensed. “How do you know this?”
“I had a vision.”
Gabriel visibly relaxed. He didn’t believe her, which only added to the distance between them. “That can’t be true. It goes against everything we know.”
“Gabe, it is. It’s true.” Michaela forced herself to take a deep breath. “Please just tell Lucifer. If he knows…maybe…”
“Maybe what?” Gabriel asked carefully, his eyes burning into her skin.
“Maybe he’ll back off. Maybe he’ll give me some time here. I can’t fight him and the Aethere.”
Gabriel shook his head like he’d been expecting her to say something else. He wrapped his hands around her arms, his fingers pressing into her skin. “Please, Michaela. You’re vulnerable out here. It’s only a matter of time before the Aethere find this place. Then no one will be safe. Let me help you.”
His hands sent waves of heat into her chest. Against her will, her eyes drifted to his mouth. Staring at the familiar shape of his lips and the strong cleft in his chin, Michaela could forget a lot of things.
If she didn’t think about his soul. If she didn’t think about hers. If she didn’t think about the blackness in his wings. If she didn’t think about the snake coiling at her spine. If she didn’t think about the thousands of humans dying around them. If she didn’t think about that day she left the gates open. If she didn’t think about this war around them. If she didn’t think about any of it, she could love him. She could love him to the end of the world and back.
But she couldn’t stop thinking about all the things that separated them. She couldn’t turn her back on the one duty she hadn’t abandoned. She had to save this world from the Aethere.
So she pulled away. Her throat was too tight to speak. She didn’t look at Gabriel’s eyes again as she turned and walked away.
“Just think about it,” he called after her.
24
Clark’s room was freezing. He sat in front of his bedroom’s fireplace, staring at its lack of warm flames. For all his trying, he couldn’t get a fire started. He sighed and pulled the quilt tighter around his shoulders.
His body ached. Exhaustion crawled through him like an army of termites devouring his insides. After a tense dinner of beans and cornbread, he’d sat with his father. Isaac had barely moved. His breaths seemed weak. His father’s body was working to fight off the infection, but Isaac looked spent. So Clark had sat there, worrying and chewing on his lip until it was bloody.
He would’ve stayed all night with his father if Ophaniel hadn’t come. She’d sat beside the bed and picked up Isaac’s hand. She promised Clark she’d stay all night. Her sweet voice and smiling eyes commanded him to go get some sleep.
Now all he wanted was to be warm and go to sleep after hauling dead animal bodies around for hours. He rested his chin in his hand, wishing he had a match.
The Nephilim didn’t need matches to light fires. They had magic. Clark’s bitter feelings surfaced. He heard Sophia’s voice in his head again. Half-breed.
He straightened, the quilt slipping slightly off his shoulders.
Sophia was right. He was a half-breed. As in half Nephil.
Even before the words had printed themselves on his arms, he was powerful. In the cave the night he’d found Michaela, he’d stopped his fall with a thought alone. His mother’s magic was the strongest the Nephilim had seen in years. Her blood was in his veins. Now he had the Watchers’ secrets inked on his arms. He’d already proved he understood the magic on his arms when he sizzled the Seraphim with only two words. He wasn’t just any half-breed. He was a new kind of breed.
“Dude.”
He narrowed his eyes at the fireplace and strained.
Abra cadabra, he thought. Boredom sank in after a minute or two of nothing happening. Clark groaned, frustrated. How had he done this last time?
He dropped the blanket and scooted closer to the fireplace, his knees brushing the stone edge. With a deep breath, he closed his eyes. Before all the madness, he used to mediate a lot at the Descendants’ compound. His breathing slowed as he focused on following the beat of his heart.
Soon, he felt the singular beats like an echo in his mind. He tracked them, listening and waiting. Slowly, he sensed a tingle in his arms. The words from the Watchers surfaced, but stayed beyond reach in the recesses of his mind. He waited, biding his time as he continued to listen to his heartbeat.
Nothing happened, but he didn’t surface from the meditation. The coldness from the room set in. It seeped into his skin, permeating his insides, gathering in the marrow of his bones. Frost draped around his organs. It crept into his brain, slowing his thoughts even more until he tracked the rise and fall of the words.
There was a significant pause between each beat where Clark was suspended in time. Even with his eyes closed, he sensed the room’s edges blur. The haziness pressed in around him, but he focused only on the internal.
His next breath brought the words to the center of his mind. He heard them spoken, sensed their meaning. They came easily up his throat, shaped his tongue perfectly. They felt like home when he spoke them aloud.
A soft crack opened his eyes. In front of him, the small kindling smoked and popped. A tiny flame crackled. Clark leaned forward and nursed the fire with kindling before he added a couple small logs to the growing flames.
He leaned back and smiled. “Cool.”
The floorboards creaked. Clark glanced to the door. Sophia stood within its shadows, smiling at him. She walked inside and sat on the edge of his bed.
“I don’t know why that worked,” Clark said, looking up at her from where he sat on the floor. The logs caught fire, and the first lick of warmth touched Clark’s skin.
“It’s in your blood, Clark. You’re not normal. You’re special, and you always were. Even before the marks.”
The lines on his arms burned. Clark hadn’t realized Sophia knew about the words there. He tugged self-consciously on the hems of his sleeves.
“You shouldn’t hide from what you are,” Sophia added. Her words were kind, her apology evident in her voice. She looked beautiful in the firelight as she sat on his bed. Her black skirt shifted around her ankles as she crossed them. Strands of her pretty strawberry colored hair had pulled loose from her sloppy braid. Clark’s throat tightened just staring at her.
“I know.” The words spoke of their own accord, surprising Clark. But they were right. Sophia was right. He shouldn’t hide from his abilities. He was a half-breed, and his mom believed in him. Sophia believed in him in her own way.
Power surged through his veins, empowering him for the first time in his life. Confidence flooded his thoughts. Without pausing, he stood from the floor and stepped toward Sophia.
“I’m not asking you to marry me,” Clark said. “I just want you to kiss me.”
She looked up at him with wide green eyes that danced with excitement. He was reaching for her before he knew what he was doing. A tiny part of his brain yelled at him that she didn’t want him. But he saw a different answer in her eyes, and that was all he needed.
He leaned over her, cupping his hands around her neck
. Her arms wrapped around him, securing her body to his. She was small and soft against his chest. Clark’s heart thundered as he lowered his mouth to hers.
Her lips were the best he had ever felt. They parted for him like a summer sun peeking through bright blue clouds. She tasted fresh and sweet. He sank into her, lowering her back onto the soft blankets and pillows.
Her tongue tentatively traced along his. He mimicked her movements with his own, pulling on her bottom lip until she gasped. Slowly she slipped her hand down his side, settling it against his hip. She had opened up room for him against her chest. He felt the invitation like an itch in his palms.
He needed to feel her. Now.
His fingers ran up the line of her ribs, skimming across her stomach. She quivered beneath him. Her mouth moved fast against his. She shifted under him, bowing into his body. Every inch of him was tight, like his skin was stretching too far to bear.
He was hard against the tops of her thighs. As he pressed against her, she moaned into his mouth, the sound like begging. Above the course material of her tightly buttoned top, his hand found the small, supple mound of her breast.
All the heat in his body surged between his legs. Dizziness swam behind his eyelids. He opened them to clear his vision. Instead, he only saw her beneath him.
“Please.” Her fingers reached up, working at her buttons.
“Is this your first time?” Clark asked. His vision blurred when she nodded. “Let’s get under the covers,” he said, wanting her to be warm even though he was on the verge of sweating.
They shifted around until they were tucked under the blankets. Clark found the small buttons of her shirt, working them open until he saw the hint of her pale skin and the lace of her bra. He was lost, staring at her beautiful body as he worked her shirt open more. He felt her hands on the button of his pants.
He stiffened. Her hands stilled, her eyes questioning. Moaning, he moved his hips against her hands, encouraging her. She popped the button open and lowered his zipper. Together they worked his pants down around his ankles. He kicked off his boots and pants. Sophia reached behind her back, arching against him again, and unbuttoned her skirt.
Clark pushed against the top of the material, sliding it over her hips. The skin of her legs was softer than he could’ve imagined. Her skirt joined his pants at the end of the bed. In a hurry, they took off their shirts, tossing them to the floor.
Skin to skin. Their only separation was the thin material of their underwear. Clark returned to Sophia’s breasts, his eyes opened wide to watch her face. Her nipple was hard and tight through the filmy material of her bra. A pink flush worked its way up her neck to her cheeks.
“I picked out the sexist one I could find,” she said, her eyes embarrassed. “It’s not much.”
“You’re beautiful.” Clark lowered his mouth to her neck as he tugged the thin strap off her shoulder. With a flick of his finger, he had the cup down and her breast spilled into his hand.
With small, sucking kisses, he made his way across her collarbone and down to her breast. She was straining, almost writhing, beneath him by the time he allowed himself to completely take off her bra. He threw it over his shoulder, the gesture bringing a small smile to her lips.
She was relaxed beneath him, her skin blazing. He stared into her eyes as she opened her legs, positioning the hottest part of her body against the hardest part of his. Her small hands reached for his briefs. Clark held perfectly still above her, biting his lip, as she tugged his underwear down and took him into her hand.
He buried his face into the crook of her neck, his lips and tongue exploring her skin. His hand skimmed away from her breasts, slipping down her stomach, across the hollow space between her hips, and to the sweetest spot between her legs.
He reared back, his eyes burning like they were on fire. She was soaking wet against his hand, straining and working against him.
“Please. Please, Clark. I can’t…wait anymore. Now.” Her words were pants.
Clark couldn’t wait any longer either. He lost himself to the sensations and feel of her. For the next few moments, she filled every missing part of him. This was truly making love, and he finally understood the difference. He loved every sound she made, every shift of her body. In the firelight, she was the most beautiful creature he ever could’ve imagined.
When it was over, he collapsed beside her. She wrapped her body around him, and he held her close. Her breaths were hot against his neck. Because he couldn’t resist, his hand settled on her perfect ass. He rolled over, pulling her on top of him.
She kissed his chest, her eyes finding his in the darkness. “That was pretty good for a half-breed.”
He narrowed his eyes, sensing the humor in her voice. “You won’t be speaking after round two.”
Her eyes widened as he rolled them back across the bed.
25
Michaela had told Gabriel she didn’t want or need his help. She wouldn’t allow him or his fallen army to help with the fight. But without his fallen, she would lose.
So Gabriel would go against her wishes and rally Lucifer’s fallen. He would help Michaela win even if she didn’t want him to.
He walked the dark hallway of Lucifer’s mansion. Candles flickered along the wooden walls dotted with eerie abstract paintings. The paint used was all reds, bright and vibrant, dull and flaking. Gabriel briefly wondered if the paint was actually blood before he pushed the thoughts from his mind. The guards in front of him walked stiffly, their heavy boots treading across the waxed floors.
They drew to a stop outside Lucifer’s closed office door. From within, Gabriel heard the final, ending strands of an argument. Within moments, the door opened, and a group of Cherubim messenger angels walked out. Their white wings lit the walls in the hall, stinging Gabriel’s eyes.
The holy angels instantly recognized him with the dark streaks lining his wings and his black eyes. Their glares bored into his skin, but he met their eyes with a crooked smirk. The group shouldered passed him, their little bodies doing little damage.
As they made their way down the hall, Gabriel called out. “You are no holier than I. Remember that the next time you take orders from the likes of the Aethere or come and visit Lucifer.”
The Cherubim slowly turned around. They looked ready to fight with their fists clenched at their sides and their eyes mere vengeful slits. Gabriel smiled, welcoming the fight. The tension rolled in his muscles. But the guards next to Gabriel pulled their bone-laden knives from slender sheaths hanging off their belts. The motion caught the eyes of the Cherubim. Their mouths stretched into thin lines, and they walked out with fallen guards trailing behind.
“Quit pissing off my guests and get in here.”
Gabriel turned toward the direction of Lucifer’s voice. With silent steps, he made his way into the office. Lucifer sat behind the wide, black desk with his feet propped up. The moon shone through the wide bank of windows behind him, glinting into the shadows like fanged teeth.
Gabriel sat in a plush chair on the other side of Lucifer’s desk. “Interesting guests,” Gabriel said, sinking back into the chair.
“I wouldn’t go that far.” Lucifer rubbed hand cream onto his hands. It smelled like flower petals. Gabriel wrinkled his nose in distaste.
“What did they want?” Lucifer looked up at Gabriel. His eyes narrowed.
“That’s an awfully nosy question,” he said. Gabriel only shrugged. “They wanted to know where Michaela is holed up. Something about the Seven Seals. Blah blah blah. Honestly, I think I fell asleep halfway through their sermon.”
“But you don’t know where she’s at.” Gabriel refused to let his fear for Michaela show in his voice.
“I don’t. But you do. And you always seem awfully tired when you come for these delightful visits, like maybe you’ve flown a long way.” Lucifer swept his feet off the desk, his chair springing him forward so he was almost leaning across the desk. His smile was wild. “I think Michaela is in some secret p
lace hidden far away. I wonder where?”
Gabriel waited, keeping his expression carefully schooled. Lucifer wouldn’t get an inch of information from him no matter what Lucifer tried. The fallen angels Gabriel had taken to the farm with him to deliver the outcast angels could be trusted. Gabriel knew they would never reveal Michaela’s location. Lucifer must have seen Gabriel’s resolve because he sat back in his chair, giving Gabriel the first bit of relief. Lucifer didn’t know where Michaela was any more than the Cherubim did.
“It’s very rude to keep information from your boss.” Lucifer sat back in his desk chair. He picked up a tumbler of dark, amber liquid.
“Sorry.”
“I’m sure. Now why did you ask for a meeting?” Lucifer smiled once again. This time Gabriel could tell it was genuine. Lucifer actually seemed excited to see him. “I know this is going to be good.”
Gabriel straightened in the chair, resting his elbows on his knees. His white button-up shirt stretched against his wings where holes had been cut to allow room for them to expand. For a moment, he only looked at the toes of his worn hiking boots before meeting Lucifer’s gaze once again.
“I want a large group of fallen soldiers to return with me.”
Lucifer’s head cocked, and in that moment, he looked primal. “Excuse me?”
“There’s going to be a fight. And I need help,” Gabriel said like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“Wait. We need to back up here. Because I’m getting the impression you want my fallen to fight for you against…who? I know it’s not Michaela since you killed Beliar to save her. Rest his soul.” Lucifer laughed at his joke. Beliar would have no rest. Ever.
“We’ll be fighting against the Watchers.”
Lucifer’s smile slipped away at Gabriel’s words.
“I’m assuming this was Michaela’s idea since it’s so stupid and fool-hardy.”
Gabriel gritted his teeth, but kept his words calm. “If we don’t stop the plagues, all the humans will die.”
