Hellbent Halo Boxed Set

by E. A. Copen

  “You skipped one.” I pointed to the one second from the top.

  He nodded. “That’s the human world. All the magic your average human mage can work with and detect is contained in that one plane. Even the most powerful human mage is limited to working with those powers only. Divine beings like angels are limited to magic from their plane, and Infernal beings have access to particular energies, energies only found in the underworld. There are exceptions to these rules like the Four Horsemen who are granted special privileges, but in general, those are the rules. Whatever plane you come from, that’s where you draw your power from.”

  “And where do you fall on this spectrum?” I reached out to touch the top layer, but my hand passed through it as if it wasn’t even there.

  “He doesn’t,” Petra growled. “People like you two shouldn’t exist.”

  Josiah met my eyes. “It’s not just you and me, sweetheart. Niko too. And Iosef.”

  “Iosef?”

  Josiah waved his hands, dismissing the diagram he’d conjured. “The spell he tried to kill me with was divine magic, but he was using one of the languages of Hell. An Infernal tongue. Those two forces should repel one another unless you know the art of blending two opposite magics, an art lost to time when Remiel went into The Pit. He was the master of that forbidden power.”

  “But all his disciples were destroyed,” Petra said, standing. “And every tome in his library burned to dust. Yet here you are, both you and Iosef, performing the impossible. How?”

  “I know how I’m doing it, but Iosef must’ve learned a different way.” He shook his head. “The point is, we’re oddities, and there is no way to hide what we are from angels. Wherever we go, they can find us.”

  “Another lie,” Petra spat and gestured to me. “No one has been able to locate Josiah using that method for fifteen years. The magic stopped working.”

  “It didn’t stop working. You just stopped looking.” Josiah stood and pushed the chair away before gripping the bottom hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head. He patted the lines of ink crisscrossing and curving over his chest. “Because of this. Now, I don’t know if Iosef is protecting himself the same way, but I do know Niko isn’t. If you know what you’re looking for, and if you have the right ingredients for the right spell, we can find him.”

  Petra folded her arms and wrinkled her nose. “I am not giving you access to my blood.”

  So that’s what this was all about. He must have needed her blood for the spell he wanted to use to find Niko.

  Reggie’s hand shot up and waved in the air. “Question. Wouldn’t her blood technically just be human blood? The host body is human, after all, right?”

  “Possession changes you.” Josiah finished with his cigarette and tossed it to the floor. “The longer an angel or demon stays in a body, the more it changes until it either falls apart or stops being human altogether. It’s why they have to switch bodies fairly frequently, and why winged assholes like Petra keep a ready supply of strong soldiers nearby. Eventually, she’ll have to find a new one. What better way than to simply pick from her recruits?”

  I raised an eyebrow at Petra. “You got to pick any body you wanted, and that’s what you went with?”

  She ignored me and raised her chin, choosing instead to address Josiah. “Dig at me all you want. I know an evil man when I see one and you, Josiah Quinn, are as tainted as they come. You have the blood of Remiel in your veins. Why not use your own?”

  “We both know I don’t have enough of it.” Josiah casually tucked his hands in his pockets. “But if you won’t, maybe someone out there will. And while I’m at it, maybe at least one of them has the balls to stand up to Michael and save this bloody planet.” He turned away, headed for the main room where all the other soldiers were waiting.

  “How do I know he’s not whispering to you?” Petra shouted. “I can’t just hand over divine blood for you to tinker with! You’re unclean!”

  “Does it really matter what he is?” I swept around to stand between Petra and Josiah. “Yes, he’s the son of everyone’s most hated Fallen. So what? It’s not like he chose it, not any more than you chose to be what you are. A sword doesn’t choose to be a sword either. But do you know what separates me from a blade? I can choose to act. Choosing inaction is as good as choosing too, Petra. If you don’t help us find Niko in time, and Remiel gets free, all the blood spilled will be on your hands just as if you’d killed all those people yourself. You’ll be no different than Michael, a mindless sycophant murderer.”

  Petra glared at me, seething. If looks could kill, she’d have killed me three times over, which only told me I was right. She knew she’d have to help us, even if she hated every moment of it. Good. The more she hated it, the more I was going to enjoy watching that bitch suffer.

  Her eyes moved slowly aside, focusing on Josiah. “And if it’s too late? What then?”

  Josiah sighed. “Then we’ve got bigger problems than a little spilled angel blood, wouldn’t you say?”

  Petra nodded and unbuttoned her sleeve, rolling it up above her elbow. With her other hand, she drew the dagger she always kept at her hip and held it out to him. “Make it quick, Abomination.”

  “I need a container,” Josiah said and retrieved his bag from where he’d left it next to the door. He dug through it, mumbling curses, and eventually brought out a simple wooden chalice that he held out to Reggie. “Make yourself useful, Reg, and hold that for me, will ya?”

  “Me?” the troll squeaked and waved his hands. “No offense, but blood isn’t my thing.”

  “He’s right.” Petra took the chalice and placed it on the table in front of Reggie. “I don’t trust Josiah, and I trust Khaleda even less. You, on the other hand, seem to have your wits about you. At the very least, you’re not going to run off and drink it or something foul.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I don’t drink blood, Petra. I’m not a vampire.”

  “Not a sanguine one anyway. Not technically.” Josiah took the dagger from Petra and positioned Reggie’s hands directly under her wrist. “Keep it steady now, Reg. You ready, Petra?”

  “Just do it!” She gritted her teeth.

  Josiah pressed the dagger against Petra’s wrist.

  Reggie cringed and turned away.

  He cut fast and deep, holding Petra’s hand still even when she tried to jerk away. His fingers forced hers into a fist and tightened, squeezing her hand as if he were juicing a lemon.

  “That’s enough.” Petra again tried to pull away, but Josiah held her. “Josiah! Unhand me!”

  He met her eyes. A dark shadow passed over his face and, for a moment, I recognized the killer in him. He wanted to leave her hand there, hold her until she bled out and died, and he would’ve too if he thought he could complete the task.

  I shivered and turned away. I’d always known he hated Petra, but that look was so vicious, even I was disturbed.

  He released her hand and she stumbled away, rushing to grab some nearby cloth and press it to the wound.

  “What in Heaven’s name is wrong with you?” she squeaked, her voice tight. “You could’ve killed me.”

  “Your host anyway,” said Josiah, lifting the wooden chalice. It was half-full. “Fortunately for her, you’re a good bleeder. This is plenty for what I’ve got planned.”

  “More than enough.” Petra continued wrapping her cut wrist.

  “Reggie, push these tables back. Clear me a space.” Josiah held the cup out in front of him like a live bomb and moved to the center of the room.

  “Any idea what he’s up to?” Reggie whispered as I came to help him.

  I shook my head. “You know Josiah. He doesn’t exactly share his plans with anyone, least of all me.”

  Once we’d cleared the center of the room of tables and chairs, Josiah began his chant. He dipped his fingers into the chalice of blood and used it like ink to draw a strange, hook-like symbol on his forehead. As the chanting rose in pitch and speed, he tipped the goblet,
pouring Petra’s blood onto the concrete in a big puddle. He didn’t dump all of it, though. The rest, he placed on the floor when he knelt in front of the puddle, whispering his chant to it as if it were a living thing.

  At first, nothing happened. We stood in the eerie quiet against his chanting, transfixed by the scene. A bubble rose, then burst. Then another. Soon, the puddle was boiling like water in a pan. Josiah leaned forward, fingers curled above the bubbling blood. The pace of his chant changed, growing more frantic, louder, angrier. Small waves rose from the bubbling blood on the concrete floor. He coaxed them higher, thinner, into vertical strings of varying height.

  He suddenly made a fist, and the blood shot out in all directions. I covered my face and turned away, expecting to get splattered.

  Next to me, Reggie whispered, “Wow,” then doubled over and heaved.

  I lowered my hands and stared at a rust-colored scale replica of New York City. Drops of blood crawled up the side of tiny buildings, recreating the Manhattan skyline as if pulled by some reverse gravity. Small shapes made of drying blood moved around at the street level, each car and person represented by the blood magic.

  My mouth fell open. I couldn’t help it. Usually, magic didn’t impress me, but that was pretty damn impressive.

  Josiah pushed himself to his feet and drew the back of his hand across his sweaty forehead. “Now to find the bastard.”

  Hands outstretched and eyes closed, Josiah moved his arms over the city beginning with Staten Island. Once he’d covered the entire area, he swept two fingers through the air and all the blood raced to the other side of the structure, hurriedly building the far east side of Queens and The Bronx.

  It was time-consuming, painstaking work. The effort of harnessing such powerful magic on a huge scale for so long ground away at Josiah until he was drenched in sweat and unsteady on his feet. By the time he got done with Brooklyn, he staggered and nearly crushed all of Manhattan.

  I darted forward and caught his shoulders, keeping him upright.

  “Thanks, love.”

  I nodded. “Don’t mention it.”

  “We’re wasting too much time,” Petra ground out. “This isn’t working.”

  “Patience is a virtue,” Josiah reminded Petra. “Best practice it a bit.” His hands hovered over a section of Queens. “Here? Christ, the bastards never even left Astoria.” He waved his hands and the structures grew as if we were zooming in. Details became clearer, collapsed, and rebuilt themselves again with every movement of Josiah’s hands. He moved street by street, reconstructing houses, storefronts, parks, eliminating options until there was only one left.

  It was a run-down street with deep puddles and crumbling sidewalks. High corrugated fences with lots of graffiti blocked most of the right side of the street from view. Toward the middle of the block was a single entry point, a locked gate topped with razor wire and decorated in warning signs. An arch over the gate read: Danielo and Sons Auto Repair.

  “He’s there,” Josiah announced. “Repair shop on 26th Avenue.” He glanced over his shoulder at Petra. “Iosef and Alexi probably have all the remaining sacrifices they need in one place. It’ll be under heavy guard. All I need is to get inside, and I can do the rest. Can I count on your help or not?”

  Petra bit her lower lip, considering. There was no right answer. If she helped Josiah stop Remiel, she’d be defying a direct order from Michael, but if she didn’t, she’d be violating a command from her god.

  Reggie looked from Josiah to Petra and inched closer to Josiah. “I’ll help however I can. Just say the word.”

  Petra turned and marched from the room without a word.

  “Coward,” I muttered, but then I heard her call her soldiers to attention. I slipped out of the small meeting room into the main section of the warehouse where all the Manus Dei soldiers under Petra’s command were gathered in neat little lines, standing stiffly at attention.

  “Soldiers,” Petra shouted in Latin, “we have been charged with a sacred duty to protect and serve mankind, to destroy evil where it nests, and be a shield to guard the unwary against the legions of Hell. Today, we face one of the greatest threats of our time: the rise of the Fallen here on Earth. Our orders…” She paused to swallow. When she spoke again, her voice was softer, unsure. “Our orders were to retreat. Do not engage. Let the damned rise and Earth fall.”

  Several of the soldiers exchanged worried glances.

  She glanced over her shoulder at me, smiling slightly before turning back to her troops. “I have no intention of abandoning my post. I believe protecting the humans from the Fallen is my duty, even if my superiors don’t agree, and I will stand in their way however I can. However, I don’t expect you to stand with me. This is a volunteer-only mission. Those of you considering staying, know that this will be a dangerous mission. Many will die. Those who survive will be branded traitors to the order and stripped of all ranks and privileges. Those of you who do not wish to fight may leave.”

  Three men in the back turned and walked silently for the door. Several others broke rank and followed. The trickle of leavers swelled for a moment, footsteps shuffling toward the door. When all the movement stopped, Petra had lost more than half her army.

  She took a deep breath and nodded. “There is no glory in this fight, soldiers, but there is honor. Thank you. Now let’s suit up!”

  “Thank you,” I said as Petra passed.

  She shot an angry look at me. “I’m not doing it for you, or for him. I’m doing it for the humans, so you’d better damn well make sure this works.” She stormed away.

  I sighed. “So much for diplomacy.”

  “You’ll want to get better at that.” Josiah appeared in the doorway holding something the size of a ballpoint pen in his hand. “Seems the Queen of Hell should have some handle on diplomatic relations with Heaven. After all, Lucifer didn’t hold onto his position long once he started being a dickhead to everyone around him.”

  “Says the least diplomatic person I know. Father lost his crown—and his head—because he forgot a ruler needs more than fear to rule.” I nodded to the object in his hand. “What’s that?”

  He held up a small glass vial containing dark crimson liquid. “The last of Petra’s blood. Figured I’d better not waste it.” Josiah tucked it into his pocket. “Whatever happened that demon following you around? Troggy?”

  “Thoganoth? I sent him to get a few supplies and told him to meet us after. Why?”

  “No reason.” He started walking backward. “By the way, when we do catch up with Troggy, if you could order him to donate a little blood for the cause, that’d make my life easier.”

  “Because I’m all about that. Wait, if you have angel blood, why do you need demon blood too? What are you planning, Josiah?”

  He winked at me, smiled, lit a cigarette, and kept on walking.

  Typical.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  JOSIAH

  “Rise and shine, beautiful. You’re up.” I carefully removed the lid on Milly’s enclosure and lowered my hand.

  Tiny tarantula hairs brushed against my fingertips, followed by gentle pressure as she crawled out of her den and up onto the back of my hand. The car hit a pothole in the road that made me bounce in the back seat. Milly nearly got knocked away from me.

  “Careful,” I snarled at the demon in the driver’s seat. We’d collected Khaleda’s minion from a pawn shop on Steinway. Apparently, the giant bag of secondhand weapons was his idea of gathering supplies.

  “It’s not my fault,” he grumbled and shifted into the next lane without a signal. “Whoever they put in charge of fixing these roads should be in the smallest cell we have downstairs.”

  I ignored his complaining and gently lifted Milly out of the enclosure, cradling her with both hands just in case we hit another pothole.

  Malphas, who sat next to me, tilted his head to the side for a better look at her. “Is that what I think it is? From where I think it is?”

  “
Probably and most likely.” I held Milly even with my face, as still as possible considering how Thoganoth had us weaving in and out of traffic. “I need you to do a little recon for us, Milly. We’re headed to the place where Iosef and Alexi are about to complete their summoning and I need to know what I’m walking into.”

  You’re going in alone, aren’t you? Eight spider eyes judged me. She couldn’t frown, but I got the distinct impression she wasn’t pleased. They don’t know, do they?

  “Petra and her people will engage Alexi’s guards,” I told her. “Alexi probably owns the police too, so I expect there will be a pretty massive firefight before this all ends.”

  “I’ll take Alexi,” Khaleda volunteered.

  “No,” I said. “I have something else in mind for you.”

  Khaleda turned around to scowl at me. “I didn’t go through the trouble of freeing Malphas and accepting Thoganoth’s deal just to play door guard, Josiah.”

  I transferred Milly to my shoulder where she’d be more comfortable. “It’s likely they have hostages. Reggie said there were only four murders in the last thirty days that fit the profile, not near enough bloodshed to bring through a major entity like Remiel. Iosef will have them in a kill room. You and your mates here are going to get them out.”

  “While you face Iosef and free Stefan on your own? I don’t think so.”

  I grunted and fished a ciggy out. “If this goes right and you do your part, Remiel will never make it through in the first place. The best way to prevent Remiel from rising is to rob Iosef of his sacrifices.”

  “And what are you going to be doing?” Khaleda asked while I struck the lighter.

  I held the tiny flame to the end of the cigarette and puffed a few times before flipping it closed. “Remiel needs a body. Ideally, he needs a body with a lot of power potential. Iosef wouldn’t use himself because that’d be too dangerous. Iosef’s not a Nephilim, and yet he has powers only a Nephilim should be able to wield. What’s that tell you?”