Asteriel flew into the air, manifesting huge, black wings to better ride the air currents. Such things mattered in a fight, and the hum of the air through feathers brought back days of glory he’d all but forgotten. He rolled in the air, sporting between the helicopters that wheeled frantically above the destruction.
“Hey, sulfurhead!” Asteriel roared at the demon. One couldn’t spend centuries among humans without adopting some of their irreverence. “Listen up!”
Balziel reacted predictably. The black flames coalesced into a giant of flickering shadow that gave a mocking bow. “Asteriel,” it said, speaking mind to mind. “I heard rumors that you had cast your lot with lesser beings.”
He thought of Lark, protecting the helpless princess with the light of her own spirit. “Fragile, but certainly not less.”
“Strange words, coming from a Fallen.”
Asteriel’s first instinct was to deny that, but he knew better. His kind had always been quick to discount any creature less powerful than themselves. Even his grand scheme to do good in the world had been all about him. But the daily grind of life—even undead life—was a schoolroom second to none. The so-called lesser beings knew much of humility. They learned how to look outside themselves, and through that they learned mercy, caring and the infinite manifestations of beauty. Love, too, if they were lucky—and it really didn’t matter in what form love found them, as long as it did. He owed Jack a lot for sharing his life.
“Here is something even stranger, hellspawn. I’ve fallen all over again,” Asteriel said. “A magnificent woman needs my help, and I mean to give it to her.”
Balziel wasn’t impressed. “What do you want?”
Asteriel kept it simple and literal. “I want you to go to hell.”
In reply, Balziel reached a claw into the sky and plucked one of the helicopters from the air. Then the demon opened its maw, where flames licked in shades of orange and ash and smoldering bloodred. It tossed the chopper down its throat, swallowing in a single gulp. Balziel laughed, a sound more horrible than any shriek of pain. “Just like that I shall devour your pitiful world, Asteriel, and leave nothing behind.”
“Please don’t spare the melodrama.”
Sarcasm seemed to fly past Balziel’s radar without leaving a blip. Instead, he bulged and flickered with anticipation. “Think hard about who you love most, and I will begin there.”
Which of course meant that Lark sprang immediately into Asteriel’s mind. Balziel plucked her image from the air with no effort at all. With a shriek of anticipation, the demon unfurled into a lake of flame and slithered down the mountainside, leaving a trail of smoking wasteland behind.
Asteriel shot into the sky, avoiding the sudden rush of heat from below. He had to protect Lark, and would spare nothing to do it. He could be destroyed in this body, and he probably would be. Fear and doubt circled him, but his determination held firm. If he’d learned anything from Jack, it was how to be stubborn.
And how to care. The spreading devastation sickened him. He feared for the lives of those he loved, and for those he’d never met.
Balziel was headed in a straight line for the humans. Right in his path, Prince Kyle was coordinating with his commanders. Reinforcements from the far-flung branches of the Company were arriving to save what lives they could. And, most precious of all, a four-poster bed nestled among the trees, holding the life Asteriel and Jack held dear.
Asteriel’s second chance had run out. Only an unfettered Fallen with his tainted, soiled soul could stop this evil. It’s up to us, Jack, old friend, Asteriel thought, filled with love and regret. At least we’ll go out fighting.
After nine hundred years of battling for his soul, Jack surrendered utterly to his demon.
Chapter 33
Lark gradually regained consciousness. It took her some time to identify the roaring, rattling noise as chopper blades. That meant they were no longer in Selena’s realm—but that was as far as her logic would go. Disorientation threatened to engulf her as her eyes flickered open. She was outdoors, but she was stretched out on the four-poster bed that belonged in the castle tower.
An orange, scaly head poked into her field of vision. The creature made a questioning noise, snuffling under her chin. Lark reached up with her good hand, stroking its neck. The dragon was pumping heat like an electric blanket.
As she turned her head, she saw Amelie was there, too. The princess was still asleep, but something had changed. A healthy color was returning to her cheeks, as if leaving the fey realm had weakened the sleeping spell. Gradually, Lark sat up. The change in position brought the pain from her burn to new life and she groaned. She needed help. A doctor. Maybe a stiff drink. She looked around and realized the bed was on a rise of land with a spectacular view. She searched for Jack, but instead saw that a battle raged in the valley below.
Lark scrambled to her knees, rising up for a better look. Her heart began thumping wildly as she put the facts together. One of the armies looked a lot like the mercenaries from the mountain.
And that was when she saw the portal in the distance. It was a little way up the slope of the mountain, like a bright movie screen floating in space. Lark shifted to get a better view, drawing a complaint from the dragon.
A vast number of fey were spilling from the portal, both the Light Fey in their golden armor and the bizarre rabble of lesser fey. A little distance apart, a cluster of Dark Fey nobles huddled together within a ring of Light Fey guards. Lark couldn’t see the prisoners’ faces, but their slumped posture looked defeated and bewildered. That was small wonder. The Dark Fey realm beyond the portal door was in flames, collapsing even as Lark watched. She strained to see the castle, and could just make out a shard of stone in the distance, as if it had exploded from within.
She was still staring at the portal when a movement to her left caught her attention. It was a black shape in the far distance, but it seemed to be hurtling toward her at a breathtaking pace. A moment later the dragon, which had been pressed up against her, leaped from her side and scrambled into the brush. Alarmed, Lark rolled off the bed and to her feet, ignoring the wave of pain that surged up her injured arm.
“Stop! Come back!” she called after the dragon, but she was immediately distracted as the black shape fell out of the sky and rolled toward her. It looked no bigger than a golf ball, which made no sense. She was sure she’d seen it in the distance, but this was far too small to be visible at any great range.
The dark sphere radiated a magnetic presence, as if it meant to suck her in. Defying gravity, it rolled uphill toward her. Lark was in no mood. With a swift, disgusted swipe of her foot, she kicked the object back down the hill and sent it skittering and bouncing toward the lake.
It struck the ground three times before it exploded. Lark ducked, expecting a blast. Instead, it unfurled into a monster made of sooty flames. The thing stank like sulfur, as if every rotten egg in the world had been crammed into one noxious cloud. Heat shimmered around the thing in waves, stabbing through her burn with razor intensity.
Lark gave an involuntary cry, backing up so that she was between the creature and the bed where the unconscious princess lay. And then it came to her with the certainty of solid fact. This was the demon Balziel.
Lark’s chest ached with terror, as if she breathed it in along with the foul air. Nevertheless, she braced her feet and locked her trembling knees, determined to stand her ground.
“What do you want?” she demanded. I think I am about to die. If I’m lucky.
The flaming figure bent as if to peer down at her, though it had cavernous pits where its eyes might have been. It didn’t speak, but it laughed. The forest shook with the sound, the trees quaking until branches fell with a cascade of crashes.
At that moment, something fell from the sky. No, not fell—it struck, like a stooping hawk, blade quick and nimble. Lark had an
impression of something bright and dark at once, like a scrap of starlight hurtling her way. And then it stopped, suspended motionless in the air—and time seemed to freeze along with it.
The winged figure was the Fallen, Asteriel, swathed in blue arcs of light that crackled and snapped along his skin. He wore Jack’s face and Jack’s clothes, but there was nothing human about him now. The black wings were enormous, broad and curved like an eagle’s. He turned to regard Lark, both desolation and determination in his bright gaze, and in that moment she understood Jack had given everything to stop Balziel.
For an instant, nothing moved save the wind stirring Asteriel’s feathers. It was like a painting by an old master, an image of primal forces doing battle when the world was young. But this was now, and it was Lark’s life, and this was all that remained of the man she cared for.
I love you, she thought, but her lips would not move to say the words. She was stupefied by the beings in front of her, in terror of them both and yet desperate for Asteriel’s safety.
“Be careful,” she managed to croak out, and wished she hadn’t. Was there a more ridiculous thing to say to a fallen angel?
She caught a flash of amusement, as if Asteriel had read her thought. But then he grabbed for Balziel in an impossibly quick movement. A snarl bared his vampire fangs, Balziel howled a protest and...
Suddenly both figures were gone. Only the hum of wind in feathers remained in Lark’s perception, as if an arrow had flown past. Lark staggered back to sit on the bed. What had just happened?
Physical weariness slammed through her. Lark suddenly gave way, weeping for the look she’d seen in the Fallen’s eyes—the understanding of the sacrifice he’d made, and of the love she’d seen there. There was no way out, but he’d done it anyway because it was the right thing to do.
Sobs wrenched from deep in her exhausted soul. They weren’t the elegant tears of a Light Fey, but as soggy and messy as any human’s. She didn’t care about the fate of the world right then. She wanted to snatch Jack back from the brink and hold him close while everything else crumbled to ash. She wiped her face with her hands, then her sleeve, unable to stop the flood of crying.
Something nudged at her foot. Lark wiped the tears from her cheeks one last time and looked down to see the dragon had returned from the forest. It put its chin on her knee, a sympathetic look in its eyes and a faint plume of steam curling from its nostrils. Lark’s heart squeezed and she reached down to reassure it, but it jerked its head up at the last instant, trilling with alarm. Lark looked up, following its gaze.
And gasped. Two figures were tumbling through the air, end over end, leaving a trail of sparks and smoke in the sky. Whatever battle raged between the Fallen and Balziel was nearing its end. Asteriel’s wings blazed with black fire, and he was losing altitude fast. Lark leaped from the bed, straining her eyes to see. Suddenly, their tumbling forms changed direction and they streaked across the battlefield.
The helicopters parted, making way for the airborne combatants. Below, the gunfire had stopped, as if both sides knew any battle but the one in the sky was irrelevant. There was barely room to fight anyway. Fey now covered the valley, Dark and Light crowding the field along with humans and the mercenaries from the mountain. It was as if every creature had fled from the Dark Fey realm and they were all milling before the gate.
The Fallen dragged Balziel before the portal, hovering high in the air. Even at a distance, Lark could tell both opponents were exhausted—they were slowing, movements jerky even if their blows were still powerful beyond mortal comprehension. Balziel seemed to engulf the Fallen in darkness, strangling him in dark flames. For a terrible instant, the blue light that surrounded Asteriel winked out. Lark dragged in a horrified breath, but in the next beat the Fallen was free again, tossing Balziel toward the portal. The demon flew, a ball of black, ragged flame.
The moment Balziel hit the portal’s mouth, it set off every ward in the spell that bound the gates. Ancient fey magic sprang into action. He passed through, but the air began to thrum with warning. Then Asteriel threw something that flashed gold, and a word of power roared over the scene. “Fialo!”
The wedding ring, Lark thought. Haven’s spell to imprison the Dark Fey. Except now it was going to do more than close the gates. Lightning forked from the lip of the portal, smashing into the earth. A brilliant ruby light sparked, flooding the portal with a bloody glow that seemed to harden to a transparent shield. Through it, the collapsing world was visible. Trees heaved, toppling, rotting, sprouting and toppling again in the space between one breath and the next. The meadow of dead grass sucked down into the earth, and the mud folded in on itself, seeming to accordion out of existence. What was left of the castle tumbled, then dissolved beneath a melting sky.
The red haze grew brighter and brighter, blotting out Lark’s sight of the Dark Fey realm. The ground began to tremble, drawing cries of fear from the watching crowd. The dragon wrapped its tail around Lark’s ankle.
And then Balziel made his bid for escape from the collapsing realm. The portal bulged toward them as his ragged black form pressed against it, straining against the magic shield. White streaks of fire began to flare, as if splits were forming where Balziel pushed the hardest. Lark heard herself chanting, “No, no, no,” beneath her breath, as if words alone could bolster the ancient spells.
Asteriel raised his hand again, the fierce power of the Fallen pouring into the gates. She felt the magic begin to build, like the pressure before a sneeze. It wasn’t enough. The cracks in the shield grew wider, and one paw of black flames poked through. The Fallen dived, bracing the shield with pure physical force to keep the demon in.
And then the pressure in Lark’s ears popped as a blast of white split the sky in a final explosion of magic. Shrieks of pain and joy rang through the valley in echoing waves. Lark grabbed the bedpost, needing an anchor to cling to.
The portal was gone. Balziel was gone. The Dark Queen’s prison realm was no more.
Neither was her fallen angel.
Chapter 34
It was not long after the portal collapsed that Prince Kyle found them. He was disheveled and had a rifle slung across his back, as if he’d been fighting. His gaze first went to Amelie, who sighed in her sleep, then to the dragon, and then to Lark. Kyle blinked once, swallowing. “You look hurt.”
Lark cradled her arm. Any movement seemed to be a very bad idea, and she was barely keeping the agony at bay. “I’ll live,” she said, not entirely convinced. The physical pain was the least of her wounds, and she was too numb to say anything about Jack. Not yet. If she spoke of him, she would shatter to pieces.
“Are you all right?” she asked instead.
Kyle wiped a hand across his forehead. “I’m the lucky one in all this. I might have been in charge of a war, but once the queen died, the Dark Fey realm started collapsing. Nothing changes the game like whole acres of forest suddenly winking out of existence. The Light Fey have been rounding up the survivors on both sides and riding like the devil to get them to this side of the gates. We think everyone escaped before the portal collapsed.”
Kyle’s last words trailed off, as if the prince in him was fading and the lover taking the helm. He knelt by the bedside, stroking Amelie’s dark hair. “Why is she asleep?”
“The princess is under the effects of a spell.”
He blinked quickly. “How do we break it?”
Lark didn’t want to give him false hope. Sleeping spells were tricky at the best of times, and who knew what twisted version Selena had used. But if there was a time and place for the traditional cures, this was it.
“You could try kissing her,” she suggested. “You are a prince after all.”
Kyle looked dubious. “Does that really work?”
“I’ll tell you what. If it does, I’ll be your child’s fairy godmother.”
One corn
er of his mouth twitched up, but he didn’t take time to reply. Instead, Kyle cupped Amelie’s cheek and put his lips to hers.
The kiss was tender, right on the border between chaste and seductive. It reminded Lark too much of Jack and everything she’d just lost, and she tried to look away. Her throat ached with all the pain she couldn’t afford to feel yet. Not yet. Not until she could be alone.
Still, she couldn’t stop herself from snatching a peek from beneath her lashes. Kyle had been a playboy for many years, but Amelie had inspired a deep and lasting love. The kiss told that story, and promised a whole library of tales to come.
The dragon cooed approval as Kyle sat back on his heels. Love and worry stamped the prince’s handsome face, but he remained silent and simply watched for any sign of change. Nothing happened. Lark’s heart went out to him—his disappointment was almost a touchable thing.
She was just gathering words of solace when Amelie finally stirred. There was a quick breath and the princess’s violet eyes flew open, apprehension furrowing her brow.
Kyle clasped her hand. “Hush, I’m here.”
Amelie blinked, looking around in bewilderment. “What happened?”
“I kissed you.”
“What?”
“You were enchanted.” He laughed suddenly, the release of tension plain in his flushed cheeks and dancing eyes. “Right out of a fairy tale! My kiss broke the spell.”
Amelie put a hand to her mouth. “Please tell me I wasn’t a frog!”
* * *
Days later, Lark found herself back at the Marcari palace.
She entered the council room to find it exactly as she had seen it last, with tapestries and ancient shields hung on the wall—but this time Jack wasn’t there. Tears filled her eyes and she blinked them away, desperate not to break down during a gathering of Company agents. It wasn’t easy. The harder she tried to banish Jack’s face from her memory, the more fixed it became.
Possessed by the Fallen Page 25
