by E. A. Copen
“Easy there,” he said and helped me get back to my feet. There was no affection in his tone. No comfort. The way he handled me, it was just something he needed to do. An order to follow. He may have claimed to love me, but Victis couldn’t love anyone. Never again.
Something rumbled behind us. The building shook, forcing me to stumble away from it. The walls trembled, pushing bricks out to crash to the ground below. Victis pulled me back to a safe distance as I stared in horror, watching whole sections of the building cave in.
No!
Josiah was in there.
Ice water pumped through my veins. Maybe he’d gotten out. He was right behind us, wasn’t he? And Josiah was a Nephilim. He was tougher than most. Maybe he was okay.
I waited in silence, listening to the police and fire truck sirens drawing closer. The dust began to settle, replaced by wild, driving snow. My heart sank into the churning of my stomach and died there. He wasn’t coming. He’d pulled the building down on himself and gotten crushed, the idiot.
Why should I care? He wasn’t anything to me. Just someone I knew. The only someone I knew. The only person I knew I could trust with my life. Yes, Josiah was a narcissistic bastard, but he wouldn’t shove me in front of a bus, not as long as he thought he could get something from me. And if he was gone, I’d be all alone. Nowhere to go. No hope of taking on Danny Monahan myself to get my soul back. Maybe there was a tiny, microscopic part of me that would miss having him around to torment.
Nephilim or not, there was no way he could’ve survived having hundreds of tons of brick dumped on top of him.
Victis put a hand on my shoulder. “We need to go before the police find us.”
I nodded and wiped melted snow from my cheeks. Victis put his hand on my upper back and guided me away from the fallen debris. I felt numb. Josiah, gone. I really was all alone. Victis would try to help, but he was too broken to do anything more than whatever I ordered of him. Where would I go? What would I do?
Without my soul, I couldn’t even feed properly. Every time I tried, I got sick. I wouldn’t have even tried if it weren’t for Josiah pushing me. He was a bastard, but he was just the kind of bastard I needed to push me through when I didn’t want to. I’d survived this long, if for nothing other than to spite him. Without that, I didn’t know if I could go on.
Weak. I could hear my father’s voice in my head as he lashed out at me. Pathetic. What kind of succubus are you? You’re not unable to feed. That’s an excuse. Only the weak need excuses, Khaleda. I didn’t raise you to be weak.
I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting back tears. My breath caught in my throat. He wasn’t real. The scene wasn’t even a memory. Lucifer Morningstar was dead, and he couldn’t hurt me anymore. Yet there he was in my mind, invading my thoughts, hurting me every time I closed my eyes.
Stop whining, chided my father’s voice in my mind. You have a ready and willing food supply right next to you.
I looked over at Victis, who was holding me up. That close, it was impossible not to feel the emptiness of his mind. No, not emptiness. His mind was scrambled. Memories of who he had been before I destroyed him floated inside blank space, jumbled, senseless without an identity to attach to. He knew about the things he’d done, the kind of person he had been, but that was gone now. On occasion, parts of that identity would surface, but only so much. He could never again swear loyalty to another, never bow before his God in true worship, something that had once brought him joy and peace. I’d taken that from him.
Bricks tumbled from a pile loudly behind us. I let go of Victis’ arm and turned. If Danny fought his way out of the rubble now, we stood no chance. He’d kill us both. I couldn’t even run with as much pain as I was in.
A shadow appeared in the settling dust and falling snow. Light sparked, illuminating a dark face with sharp, bony features.
Josiah?
Blood trickled down from a gash in his head, but he paid it no mind as he lit the cigarette, drew in a deep breath, and then pulled it away, coughing. He climbed from the rubble and limped toward us, waving wildly.
“Oi,” he called and pointed to the bent cigarette between his fingers. “Lookie what I found!”
The pain and doubt I’d held onto faded, replaced by a swollen ball of anger. That bastard! I was going to murder him.
Chapter Twenty
JOSIAH
Khaleda was pissed, but she knew better than to take a swing at me with her arm injured. Victis turned and started away from the fallen building. Khaleda and I fell into step behind him, limping along. Fine pair we were, me bleeding and bruised, and her shot to hell. At least when the building came down, one of the central support beams bent over me, holding up most of the mess and creating a clear way out. I hadn’t meant to topple the building, but it served them right. Damn thing was coming down anyway. Calling down the power of Heaven only assisted it in its downward journey.
Khaleda slid on a patch of black ice. I caught her and held her up, despite the sudden screaming pain in my side. My lungs suddenly felt tight, and the pressure built the more I leaned to the side. Shit, must’ve cracked a rib.
“Almost there,” I promised her. “Round the corner, up the street, and we’re there.”
We came around the corner and nearly bumped right into Victis’ back. He stood in the center of the narrow alley, feet planted wide in a challenge.
At the other end of the alley, a sleek, feminine shape blocked out the light. Heels clicked as she walked toward us, passing through a dying pool of yellow light. Noelle, and still in that sleek black number, despite the cold. Sparks flew and metal ground against brick as she closed the distance. Christ, I’d nearly forgotten about that icy bitch.
Noelle stopped a dozen paces in front of us. Metal flashed on either side of her as two ice blue blades appeared in her hands. “Evening, boys. Josiah. I see you found yourself a cigarette.”
I let go of Khaleda. “Two swords? Isn’t that overkill? We’re not even armed.”
She shrugged. “I’ve always been a fan of finishing first. But then, it’s no fun to finish alone.” She tossed one of the swords in the snow.
“Afraid I’m no good with swords,” I said and nudged it back toward her with my foot.
A sinister yet somehow sensual smile touched her lips. “That’s not what Danny said. You really should make it your policy to kiss and tell, Josiah. I do love a good tragic romance.”
“Fuck this,” Khaleda growled and leaned over to pick up the sword. She extended her hand and cursed. Crimson drops appeared in the snow.
I pulled her back. “You’ve got a bullet in your arm, fuckwit.”
“Well, well.” Noelle pushed some hair out of her face. “You two are a mess. What about you, big guy? Any fight left in you, or did she fuck it all out of you?” She gestured to Victis with her chin.
Victis glared at her a moment before reaching for the sword.
I put a hand on his shoulder. “Pick it up, and you’re a dead man.” I turned back to Noelle. “Not just a friendly neighbor, then, are ya? You’re working for Danny?”
Noelle laughed. It was a deep, velvety sound laced with venom. “Come on now. You know better than that. You knew that when we first met, didn’t you?”
She held her hand out, catching some of the falling snow before smearing it over her arm. A cold blast of magic shocked the alley, forcing the temperature to plunge so low I couldn’t keep my teeth from chattering. Glittering frost crawled over her skin, building into glowing gauntlets, vambraces, and then a full suit of form-hugging armor. Snow swirled around her head, pulling it into an out of the way knot. More snowflakes gathered at her back, creating a cape of pure white. Gone was the soft seductress; a hard warrior stood in her place.
“What the hell are you?” Khaleda asked, gripping my arm.
“Does it matter? Now, if you want to escape, one of you will have to fight me. Let’s make it interesting. When I kill my opponent, and I will, you other two will go straight back to apolog
ize to Danny and maybe he won’t slit your throats to fuel his spell right now.”
“And if we win?” I puffed on the cigarette, wishing it would warm me. My fingers, toes, and nose had all gone numb. It had to be below freezing in that alley, and none of us had our coats.
Noelle licked her lips. “If you win, it won’t matter. I’ll be dead. Now, pick up the sword.”
Victis held out the keys to his taxi. “Go.”
“Victis,” Khaleda said, “she’s wearing armor, and she has magic.”
He picked up the sword without looking at her. “The only other option is to go back where the police will arrest you, or Monahan will kill you. I’ll keep her busy. Go!”
She tried to protest again, but I grabbed her arm and pulled her away. “Better him than us.”
While Khaleda squirmed, Victis stepped forward and shifted his stance as if he knew what he was doing. Noelle’s smile widened, and she brought her sword up, wholly focused on him. The two remained as they were, frozen in place for a long moment, and then she moved, her body blurring and reappearing to Victis’ right for a slash at his head.
Victis somehow blocked the sword and pushed her back. Noelle slammed into the brick wall and spun to the left, narrowly avoiding Victis’ powerful strike aimed at her chest. His sword hit the wall and sparked blue magic, sending a vine of ice climbing toward the roof.
Noelle slashed at his exposed left side and Victis lifted an arm on instinct, moving as if he’d had a shield. But he didn’t and the sword bit into his forearm, grazing the outside. It was a deep cut, but not fatal. He hissed in pain and fell back, cradling his arm and watching in horror as it froze solid.
Khaleda squeezed my arm. “Help him.”
I shook my head. Even if I’d wanted to, I was tapped out completely now. Just staying on my feet took almost more energy than I had, and we had to make a run for it.
Victis looked back at us, his body trembling. Sweat froze on his forehead. He met my eyes with a fierce glare, the message clear. Stop staring and get her out of here. Once he was sure I’d gotten the message, he surged back into the fight with an animalistic growl, slashing and slicing at Noelle with no reprieve, pushing her back. He backed her into a dumpster, clearing the way for us.
I grabbed Khaleda, and we limped down the alley as fast as we were able. The parking garage loomed in sight. Just another few seconds and we’d be inside. Then we just had to get to the third level, find the taxi and—
Behind us, Noelle let out a frustrated scream. Something crashed with a wet thud. Magic surged and swept toward us in an icy torrent. I pulled Khaleda out of the mouth of the alley just in time to avoid being hit by the spell. It swirled by, sucking all the warmth out of the air and freezing everything—including droplets of moisture in the air—into a solid mass. If that’d hit us, we would’ve died instantly.
Our path to the garage was cut off. She’d hit us if we sprinted back for the opening, and inside the narrow walkways, we’d be easy targets. I scanned the street in a panic, settling on a small, circular area where the snow had refused to stick. A manhole cover. Perfect.
I ran to it and grunted, trying to pull it up. Damn thing was heavier than it looked. Khaleda ran to help me, and we finally got it free. The stench from below made me gag, but the smell was still preferable to dying. I motioned for her to go. “You first.”
Khaleda pinched her nose. “You.”
“Pearls before swine, sweetheart.”
She flipped me off, but she finally started to lower herself into the tunnel.
Noelle tore around the corner and spun on us, her cape and armor steaming and splashed with crimson. Blood dripped from her sword to paint the snow. Khaleda was still half in the tunnel and she wasn’t going to make it down before Noelle repeated her spell, which meant I certainly wasn’t.
Magic swelled. The temperature plunged around me.
No choice. I gritted my teeth and slapped a hand over the gash in my head, pulling on what little power remained in the blood and feeding back into myself, urging it into my muscles for an extra burst of strength. It wouldn’t last but more than a few seconds, and it’d leave me without any magic for at least a few hours, but at least I wouldn’t be dead. With a shout of effort, I lifted the manhole cover, spun around once and let it fly like a frisbee straight at her head.
Noelle extended her hand and caught it.
Bugger.
Steam rose from where her flesh gripped the metal manhole cover. Her eyes widened as her gauntlet disintegrated and red welts sprang up on her hand, spreading like wildfire. She screamed in agony and let go of the manhole cover just as I dropped into the sewer.
It felt like we’d walked for hours in silence. I didn’t particularly know my way around the New York City sewers, but most of the turn-offs were marked. Once our noses adjusted to the smell, it wasn’t so bad.
Khaleda walked with her head down, hugging herself, speaking only when spoken to. She didn’t seem to care where we went or how we got there after the initial flight through the tunnels. It took us several minutes before we realized Noelle hadn’t come down after us. Smart girl. Between the sewers and subways, there were enough underground tunnels in New York to form another city.
White, painted lettering ahead pointed us toward the Jay Street Metro station. We must’ve crossed under the East River at some point. No wonder it felt like we’d been walking forever. I followed the arrow.
Khaleda suddenly looked up. “She was fae, wasn’t she?”
I started to shrug and stopped. My shoulder was sore. “Didn’t care for the iron content of the manhole cover. That’s for certain.”
I hadn’t had many dealings with the Fair Folk in my line of work. They tended to avoid angels and demons on principle since the Angelic Host had robbed them of significant power in the olden days. To find a Winter fae working with someone trying to become the next King of Hell was troubling, but not out of the question. To secure his position, Danny-boy would need the backing of powerful entities outside of Hell. He’d hoped to bully Khaleda into giving her support, but she couldn’t have been his only supporter. Winter was backing him, too. Only question was, what did they have to gain?
We reached a small maintenance door that connected the sewers to the subway tunnel. A rusted padlock kept it closed, but as tired as we were, it was enough of a deterrent. I stared at it and considered just waiting out the end there. At least down there, God’s Hand, the fae, and demons would leave us alone.
I sighed and decided I didn’t want to die in a sewer. Three good kicks and the lock broke. I tore it away from the latch and forced the creaking door open. “Found the A-line. If we can get to the station down the way, I think we can get to where we need to be.”
“I felt him die.”
I turned away from the opening, resting one arm on my knee. Her whole left side was wet and sticky with blood. She trembled, either from the cold, shock, or both. Putting her on a subway line in that state, even in the middle of the night, would be akin to cruel and unusual punishment. Poor girl was suffering, and she was stuck with a bastard like me.
“Khaleda, keep it together just a little while longer. We’re almost there.”
Her chin quivered, and she gripped her throat. “She cut off his head, Josiah. He was so afraid. I felt his last breath, his mind reached for mine. He wanted me to feel.”
“No, he didn’t.”
“Of course he did. I destroyed him, and he wanted me to die with him.”
I stood and put my hands on her shoulders. She didn’t respond, even when I shook her. “Fuck what he wanted! He tried to kill us, Khaleda. Or did you forget that part? Victis was a zealot and a murderer who would’ve killed anyone, anywhere, just because God’s Hand told him to.”
She looked at me, her chestnut eyes big and wet. “I would’ve done the same for my Father.”
The realization struck like lightning to my chest. She’d seen herself in him and thought she could save him somehow, even though h
e was doomed from the start. She’d tried, and she’d failed. Even under her control, he couldn’t shake the brainwashing. What if she couldn’t either? It didn’t matter that her father was dead and couldn’t order her to do terrible things anymore. That wasn’t it at all. It was the possibility that haunted her. Lucifer was torturing his daughter from beyond the grave.
Hot, fiery rage bubbled in my chest. It wasn’t my fight, had never been my fight, but if it were in my power, I would’ve brought him back so she could kill him herself. It was that closure that was missing for her. She hadn’t seen him die. What if he hadn’t? What if he was coming back for her? No matter how many times I told her he was gone, she couldn’t stop thinking about it.
I cupped the side of her face. “You’re stronger than him. Stronger than Victis, than your father. Khaleda, you’re stronger than me. Hell, maybe half the men in this city. Danny Monahan is afraid of you.”
She sniffled. “Why? I’m nobody. I’m nothing without him.”
“Look at me.” I held her face in my hands until she did. “I’m terrified of you. Not because you’re the deadliest person I know—even though you are. Not because you’re Lucifer’s daughter. I’ve seen what you can do with a knife. Trust me when I say that tongue is twice as sharp. You don’t need to be Khaleda Morningstar, Lucifer’s daughter anymore. You be who you want. No one but you is in control of where you go, what you do, and how you live your life. You’re free of all that. Say it.”
Her lips parted, but no sound came out. She blinked. Tears trailed down her cheeks and fell, wet and warm, onto the back of my hands.
“Say it, Khaleda.”
“I’m free of my father.” The words came out as a whisper of disbelief.
“Say it again. That didn’t convince me. Why should it convince you?”
