Hellbent Halo Boxed Set

by E. A. Copen

  I sat up, still woozy from Ira’s healing, and rested my palm against my forehead. “Iosef and Alexi have Niko and everything they need to finish the summoning. I… I fucked up.”

  She hesitated, her hand on the IV she was preparing to pull out of the bend in my arm. When had they even put that in? “I saw the taverna,” she said quietly, her tone sympathetic. “What happened?”

  I pushed her hand away, grabbed the IV, and tugged it out before clamping the sheet down over my bleeding arm. “Iosef tossed a grenade into the place, that’s what happened. Came in with his crew of satyrs and shot the kitchen full of holes. One of ’em gave me head a good rattle with his hoof, and the explosion left me half-deaf. Iosef was ready to start executing the Savas if I didn’t give Niko up.”

  “Caving under pressure?” Khaleda unbent my arm and pressed a handful of wadded tissues against the hollow of my elbow before bending it again to keep the pressure on. “That doesn’t sound like you.”

  “I didn’t,” I snarled. “Fucking Niko came downstairs and practically gift-wrapped himself for them. I could’ve taken them out. Should’ve. One shot to Iosef or Niko and it’d all be over.” I flexed my fingers into a fist. “They need Niko alive for the ritual. I knew that. It didn’t matter that I didn’t have a clear shot or that I might miss. I should’ve taken it, but all I could think about was how tired I am of watching people around me die. Not that it matters. They’ll kill him either way now. We’re fucked. For all I know, Remiel is already here.”

  Khaleda’s hand rested gently on my back.

  I slid off the bed and threw the wad of paper towels at the biohazard bin. “Christ, I’m such a fucking idiot, Khaleda!”

  “Josiah, you’re only human. There’s only so much you can do.”

  “But I’m not. You’re not.” I gestured limply to her. “We’re more than them, which means we’ve got to do better than any human can. We have to be smarter, stronger, less like them and more like—”

  “More like Remiel?” She crossed her arms. “And maybe I should be more like my father? Is that right? We’re more than what our blood makes us, Josiah. We’re allowed to hurt.”

  I exhaled, closed my eyes, and clasped my hands over my head. “When did you put it together then?”

  “That Remiel is your father?” Khaleda shrugged. “I didn’t. Someone told me. You should’ve told me though, especially knowing what was happening.”

  Someone? I lowered my arms and gave her a doubtful glance. Who could’ve told her? The only soul who’d ever known who and what I was had died by my hand. There was my mum, of course, but she could barely speak, and Khaleda couldn’t have found out from her. She was halfway across the world. “Who told you?”

  “There’s someone you should meet.” Khaleda uncrossed her arms and pulled open the curtain. “Come on. He’s waiting.”

  You’d be surprised how easy it is to just get up and leave an emergency room. No one stopped us, not as we wandered through the halls, nor as we went through the doors, passing several off-duty cops having a coffee.

  The parking garage smelled of stale smoke and old urine, somehow reminding me that I still wanted a cigarette. Once we got back to the car, I’d insist we stopped somewhere for supplies, a fresh soft pack of decent ciggies among them. I’d need them if I wanted to formulate any sort of plan.

  The world might be buggered when it came to stopping Remiel from rising, but I’d be damned if I would just let the bastard come after me. No, I’d have to put up one hell of a last stand, if just to see the look on his face when I blew myself to kingdom come, preventing him from having the pleasure.

  We rounded one of those big concrete pillars, and a big man stepped out of the shadows ahead. His form remained shrouded in shadow, except for a pair of unnaturally brilliant violet eyes. The air around me cooled twenty degrees in an instant, as if the creature ahead were pulling all the warmth from it, and the small hairs on my arms and the back of my neck stood on end.

  One of the Fallen. Perfect.

  I planted my feet, raised a hand, and barked out a spell. It vibrated through the air, a pathetically weak version of what I’d be at full strength.

  The Fallen dispersed it with a snap of his fingers, unharmed.

  Khaleda grabbed my arm as I was working out another, more potent spell to throw at him. Her fingernails dug in like claws. “Don’t! Malphas is on our side.”

  I frowned at her. “Malphas?”

  The Fallen—who I took to be Malphas—finally stepped out of the shadows. He wasn’t particularly tall, but not what you’d call short either. Thin in the face with a perfect chin. A face too attractive for the black suit and the white collar he was wearing. I supposed there was a certain irony to stuffing one of the Fallen into the body of a priest, but I was too irritated to appreciate it.

  “Josiah Quinn, I presume?” Malphas made no effort to extend his hand. He left it tucked in his pocket, hopefully not gripping a weapon.

  I looked over at Khaleda. “D’ya know what that is?”

  “He’s one of the Fallen,” she answered without missing a beat.

  I almost clubbed her myself. “Are you out of your bleeding mind? Christ on Christmas! Tell me Ira fucked up my head and I’m seeing things.”

  She crossed her arms and walked over to stand next to him. “Don’t be such a drama queen. Remember how we were talking about the Fallen Revolt in Hell? Well, Remiel put Malphas in chains and left him to rot here on Earth. He wants his chance to even the score.”

  “Our goals align,” Malphas confirmed.

  I grunted and wished I had a ciggy. “For now. What about once Remiel is dealt with? What’s to stop you from eviscerating us?”

  Malphas glanced at Khaleda. “I serve at my Queen’s command. Unless she gives the order to disembowel you, I don’t get that pleasure.”

  The way he said it made me think Malphas would enjoy gutting me just a little too much. That was the Fallen for you. Bile was like perfume and the screams of the damned a symphony.

  It was my turn to glare at Khaleda. “Queen? Thought you didn’t want your father’s crown?”

  “I want Remiel to have it even less,” Khaleda said.

  She wanted a pet Fallen? Fine. Her funeral. I threw my hands up. Best thing for me to do was make sure my back was never to her pet monster. The Fallen weren’t known for their loyalty. “Good on ya. You rescued a little lost abomination. Now, what about the army you were supposed to get?”

  Khaleda and Malphas exchanged a look.

  I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Thoganoth didn’t have an army, did he? Let me guess. Thoganoth works for Malphas, and when the little bastard said he’d get you an army, he really meant a one-man army. Lovely. Fucking lovely. No offense, mate, but you’re no fucking good to me.”

  Malphas squinted. “This body may be weak, but I am not. I was Remiel’s right hand and commander of Lucifer’s armies before my imprisonment.”

  “Hold up.” I lifted my hand in a stop gesture. “Body?”

  That was it, wasn’t it? Demons and angels—the Fallen included—couldn’t just climb through a portal and exist in our world, not without meeting some specific circumstances. Those circumstances would greatly limit their ability to interact with the world around them, not ideal if you wanted to kick off the end of the world. Remiel would need a body to inhabit once he came through, and not just any body either. There was a reason Manus Dei recruited former Special Forces soldiers. Your average joe couldn’t contain a divine being. Even the strongest human could only hold one for a limited time, which was why angels were always swapping meat suits around.

  Remiel had been an angel of knowledge and forbidden magic. Ergo, to maximize his power on Earth, he’d need a body that would give him access to both. Someone who could see things before they happened would be ideal, someone like Stefan Nikolaides.

  I snapped my fingers and rushed past Malphas and Khaleda, searching for her car. “I know why they took him, and I know how w
e can stop them. If we’re not already too late, that is.” I reached the rental car and tugged on the door, looking back to Khaleda when I found it still locked. “Well? Let’s get a move on, Princess. These bastards aren’t known for their patience.”

  Khaleda glanced at Malphas, uncrossed her arms, and started after me. “Where exactly are we going? And I don’t suppose you want to share this brilliant plan with us?” She hit the unlock button on the key fob.

  I pulled open the front passenger door. “Back to the God Squad.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  KHALEDA

  Petra frowned and looked down her petite nose at us, her expression skeptical. “If what you say is true, I need to pass this up the chain.”

  Josiah had just updated her on the case. She wasn’t happy that we hadn’t checked in, but he’d told her where she could shove her displeasure. The two went back and forth as usual for a while before I reminded them we were on a time limit. We didn’t know when or where Iosef and Alexi would complete their ritual, only that they would do it soon. Why wait when they already had everything they needed?

  “Call if you like,” Josiah said, “But it won’t do you any good.”

  “I don’t believe you,” Petra spat. “Michael would never allow this. Whatever you think of him, he’s still a servant of Heaven, and releasing Remiel doesn’t advance the interests of Heaven.”

  I sighed. “Come on, Petra. We know there’s been a schism somewhere within the order. We’ve known since I took Victis.”

  Her eyes snapped to me, blazing with the promise of violence. “You mean since you dominated his mind and robbed him of his free will?”

  “He was trying to kill me. I have no reason to be kind to my enemies.”

  “Michael doesn’t give two shits about the rank and file,” Josiah said. “He wants his war, no matter the human cost.”

  I didn’t see why Josiah was so concerned with convincing her. Petra was a good soldier through and through. If Michael didn’t give her the order to march, she’d stay right where she was and not be any help at all to us. We were better off trying to find Niko ourselves.

  Josiah said with access to Petra’s tools and information, we would find him faster. A tracking spell wouldn’t work. He had nothing to track Niko with, and Iosef was smart enough to prevent the spell from working anyway. Petra had a way of finding him, supposedly—though Josiah wouldn’t tell me what it was—but she wasn’t interested in sharing it.

  Petra narrowed her eyes at Josiah a moment before pulling a cell phone from inside her jacket pocket. She pressed a single button and held the phone to her ear. “This is Commander Petra. I need to speak to him. It’s urgent.” Silence for a moment. “I don’t care if he’s praying. What part of urgent don’t you understand? Now put Michael on the line!” She rolled her eyes and shook her head.

  While we waited, Josiah went to a nearby table where Manus Dei had their computer set up. Reggie was hard at work monitoring something I didn’t care about. I was too busy worrying about Malphas.

  I didn’t think it would be a good idea to introduce God’s Hand to our new ally. Something told me they wouldn’t get along, and so I’d insisted that he wait in the car a block away. If Petra found out about him, though, she wouldn’t hesitate to kill him just the same as she’d kill Remiel. It wasn’t a secret I could keep forever. Eventually, she’d figure it out and come after him. By then, we’d have to be long gone.

  That means this is the last case I’ll ever work with Josiah or for God’s Hand. I glanced over to where Josiah stood, looking over Reggie’s shoulder. The troll frowned at Josiah and adjusted the monitor, turning it slightly. My chest suddenly felt tight at the idea of striking out on my own. That’s stupid. I’ve been on my own before, and I’ll be fine. The last thing I need is that idiot slowing me down.

  Still, he’d been there for me when I needed him. I wouldn’t be alive if he hadn’t helped me before.

  And what about Osric’s soul? God’s Hand still had it. I knew it was only one soul in a sea of billions, but his was the only one that mattered to me, the only one I wanted to be freed. I still hadn’t figured out how to get him back. As Queen of Hell, I’d presumably have the power to demand it or the armies to invade and take it, but I still wasn’t sure I wanted to go through with that. Becoming queen would mean more than just accepting Malphas’ help. There would be others after the title and I’d either have to sway them to make them my allies or defeat them with an army I still had yet to gather. It would be a long time before I could do anything about Osric’s soul, and by then, God’s Hand could’ve done anything with it.

  I closed my eyes. He’s already dead, Khaleda. What does it matter what happens to his soul? Yet I couldn’t shake it. I wanted him to come home, to be back where he belonged and at peace. Was that so much to ask after all he’d been through?

  Petra suddenly stiffened. “Yes, sir!” Pause. “Yes, sir. They’ve reported it might be Remiel.” She tilted her head to the side, suddenly uneasy. “I see. Well then, I’ll prepare to send a battalion in to… But sir! You can’t—” Her jaw snapped shut as she listened to what Michael had to say, shoulders slumping. “Yes, sir. Understood, sir. And you, sir. So sorry to have wasted your time.” She lowered her phone, a dazed look in her eyes.

  “Well?” Josiah stood up and went digging through his pockets—for the pack of cigarettes he’d bought on the way over, no doubt. “What’d Mr. Good and Righteous have to say about it?”

  Petra stared down at the phone cradled in her hands. “He knew. His orders are to pack up and withdraw. Do not engage.”

  Reggie pushed away his keyboard. “He wants you to just let Remiel come through? Why?”

  “I’ll tell you why.” Josiah flicked his lighter and held it to the end of his cigarette, lighting it before removing it to gesture to Petra with it tucked between two pinched fingers. “Because Michael cares more about getting his epic battle and making his absent Father proud than protecting humans.”

  “But,” Petra stuttered, “to protect and serve creation is our divine charge. He can’t reject that calling. The Fallen were cast out for refusing to bow to humans. Michael cannot do the same and expect to remain in charge!”

  “He can do as he likes,” Josiah said. “No one would dare challenge him. Just imagine what he’d do to anyone who didn’t follow a direct order. You’d better get packing.”

  Chairs all around the room scooted out as what remained of Petra’s men rose and started gathering up their papers and equipment. Petra turned, first one way and then the other, her face frozen in a panic as she wrestled with what to do. She knew it was wrong, following Michael’s orders. Abandoning her post meant surrendering to the enemy, and a warrior like Petra couldn’t fathom fleeing before the battle had even begun. That was cowardice.

  Her eyes fell on the closest soldier, who was busy unplugging some of their monitoring equipment and neatly wrapping the cords before placing them in a metal briefcase. She marched over and grabbed the briefcase. “Just what do you think you’re doing, soldier?”

  The soldier blinked at her. “Following orders, ma’am.”

  “Who gave you the order to pack up the equipment?”

  His mouth hung open a moment before he answered, “But Michael said—”

  Petra slammed the briefcase closed. Everyone stopped what they were doing to stare at her. Her eyes moved from face to face, considering, before she glanced at Josiah and then me. “Everyone,” said the angel at length, “form ranks in the main room and wait for further instructions.”

  “But…” started the soldier she’d just been talking to.

  She glared at him, and he snapped to attention. “That’s an order, private!”

  “Yes, ma’am!” the whole room shouted at once.

  I moved out of the way of the door as the soldiers filed toward it, each wearing a mask of worry.

  Reggie stood and started to collect his things.

  “Not you, fuckwit.” Josiah pu
shed him back into his seat. “We need you.”

  The troll groaned. “Why me?”

  Josiah ignored him to address Petra. “Not easy being second chair, is it?”

  I could hear her grinding her teeth from across the room. “If hate weren’t a sin, I would admit to hating you, Josiah Quinn. But even filthy abominations can be right sometimes.” She sank into a nearby chair, shoulders slumping forward. “There’s no right answer here, is there? If I follow Michael’s orders, Remiel will get free. Millions will die in the war that follows. If I disobey, the punishment will be harsh.”

  “You’ll fall,” I said, stepping up to her. “Michael will cast you out.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t become one of them.”

  Josiah pulled out another chair and spun it around to sit on it backward. “Whatever you’re going to do, you need to decide quick or it won’t matter if you disobey him.”

  “I can’t!” Petra threw her hands up. “It could be too late. You said so yourself. They already have the Oracle and all the ingredients they need to finish the ritual. It could already be done for all we know.”

  “There’s only one way to know for sure, Petra,” Josiah urged. “We both know it’s the only way.”

  I glanced from Josiah to Petra and back again. “Why do I feel like I’m suddenly out of the loop here?”

  “Angels have a spell that can find anyone anywhere at any time,” Josiah said.

  “I thought you said tracking spells wouldn’t work?”

  He smirked. “Doubt it would, but I’m not talking about a regular tracking spell, at least not one that would work on this plane.”

  I crossed my arms. “Pretend I’m not a wizard for a minute.”

  “Reality is made of layers. Magic that works in one layer doesn’t necessarily work in another, but some magics can transcend planar boundaries.” Josiah extended his hands in front of him, clasped with one over the other. Slowly, he pulled his fingers apart, sparking gold lines that stretched between them like threads. He waved his fingers around, shaping the magic like clay before slicing it into four smaller horizontal pieces and pointing, beginning at the bottom. “Infernal, fae, divine.”