She shook her head. “I don’t think you can promise that.”
“Okay, I promise that if something does happen to you, I’ll do everything I can to fix it and then take revenge on the dumb son of a bitch that dare lay a hand on you.”
She giggled. “I don’t doubt that for a second.”
They finished eating and moved to the couch, not having to leave for the airport for several hours.
“So, who else is coming? What other angels can I expect to meet today?”
“Lucifer will be there. He’s instrumental. He can fly, so we need him to--”
Her jaw dropped. “He can fly?”
“Oh, yeah. He’ll no doubt whine all the way there about how slow planes are in comparison. Now, he gets a little murdery sometimes, but as long as you don’t say anything overtly racist, he won’t--”
She chuckled. “Murdery?”
Gabriel shrugged. “Uriel will be there. She likes to be called ‘Valerie’. She gets psychic visions sometimes. Kind of judgemental, but funny.”
“Not to be a dick, but, how is that helpful in a war?”
“Fiery sword.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Oh.”
“Then, there’s Barachiel, human name Wyatt. His son just died, so be nice.”
“Oh, God, that’s awful. Wait, angels can have kids?”
“No, not usually.”
“Uh, huh. And what’s his deal?”
“Protector of Humanity, lightning powers. Then there’s his girlfriend.”
“I thought you said the angels were like siblings. Oh, gross.”
Gabriel erupted in laughter. “No, no. His girlfriend’s not one of us. She’s a vampire. Queen vampire. She’s letting us borrow her army to fight off the golem.”
“Queen?”
“First of her kind.”
They were quiet for a while, the upcoming battle feeling more real as it grew closer.
Wendy tapped her bottom lip with her finger. “Is it weird that I’m starting to get excited? Like, giddy, even?”
“Yeah, kind of.”
They laughed as Wendy climbed into Gabriel’s lap, pinning her to the back of the couch and kissing her playfully. “Do you think we have time to,” She let her voice trail off.
“Oh, we will make time.”
Valerie decided to get one more practice in before leaving for Iraq, flourishing her sword and moving about the roof of Gabriel’s building as if in a choreographed dance. The more she worked with the sword, the more it felt like a part of her, an extension of her arm. It seemed lighter and less cumbersome, easier to control. Once she’d accepted it as hers, once she’d finally fully accepted who she was, the movements came to her like second nature. She was Uriel, regent of the sun, flame of God, archangel of salvation. She would defend the Gate and cut down any ghoul or goblin that got in her way. Not that she wanted to do it. She couldn’t wait for this day to be over. She hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before. She’d been too anxious. This wasn’t one little-girl-wearing psycho terrorizing frat houses. That had been bad enough. This was an army of freaks, all with two things on their minds: blowing the Gate to shit and slaughtering anyone trying to protect it. She was not looking forward to it.
“I see your training has come along nicely.” Lucifer leaned against the stone wall next to the door. “Not as well as if you’d let me assist you, but all in all, not too shabby. Pity you have no practical experience.”
“I remember enough.”
“Do you?” He pulled a sword of his own from out from behind him and rushed toward her, raising it above his head and bringing it down hard on her awaiting blade. “Good instincts, sister. Now, let us see how skilled you are when your opponent isn’t thin air.” He swung again, meeting her sword with a sharp clank. Over and over again he swung at her and over and over again, she deflected. “You seem to have nearly mastered the art of defense. I’m almost impressed.” He kept pushing her, switching up his attacks, keeping her on her toes. “Good,” he sneered. “Very good, indeed. Now, take an offensive stance.”
“What?”
He struck her blade once more. “Come for me.”
“I don’t--”
He swung again, the force of the blow nearly knocking her down. She righted herself and stared him down, cracking her neck and lifting her blade. “Boy, you have done it now.” She flew forward, crashing her sword into his, one furious swing after another sending him reeling back, laughing as he held her off.
“Excellent! Look how far you’ve come, Uriel. Dare I say, I’m quite proud of you.”
She threw her sword down again, this time allowing it to burst into white-hot flame as it met Lucifer’s. His eyes grew wide and he scurried backward, putting some distance between himself and the blaze.
“Are you mad?” he admonished, throwing down his sword and folding his arms like a disappointed father.
The flame went out and she sheathed her weapon. “What?”
“Are you trying to kill me just as we’re about to go into battle? You do realize the rest of you will not be victorious without my help.”
“I’m not trying to-- hold up. I thought nothing could kill you. God’s strongest and whatnot.”
“You wield Holy Fire. That can kill anything. Well, nearly anything.”
“Really?” she smirked. “That is very interesting information. Good to know. Good to know.”
“Don’t go getting all high and mighty, sister. You’re still incredibly undisciplined and lack the proper footwork to--”
“Why do you continue to hassle me?”
“I’m helping you. You may have bested a single golem, but you’ve never come up against ten thousand of them, not even in your true form. You have no idea the danger you’re in. While I have every confidence that we will prevail, I am not certain that you and the others will make it out of the desert with your heads still attached. Barachiel is the only one of you that can survive such a fate as beheading and that’s assuming his vampire doesn’t get herself killed. You must be prepared.”
“Aww, Lucifer. Are you saying you care about me? You gettin’ soft?”
He rolled his eyes and let out a sigh of derision.
“Fine. You were helping. But I’m good. Don’t you worry your pretty little head.”
He growled under his breath.
She giggled. “All right, come on. Let’s get something to eat before we go.”
“As long as it’s real food.”
“So, nothing from downstairs.”
“Definitely not.”
“You should get some sleep,” Wyatt said, adjusting his pillow as Allydia rolled back to her side of the bed.
“I’ll sleep on the plane. Until we leave, I will cherish you.”
His dark eyes lingered on her face as she smiled at him. He tucked her hair behind her ear, sending shivers down her spine, the gentleness of his touch like catnip.
“I could stare at you all day.”
“And I you,” she purred.
“We will have to get out of bed, eventually.”
“Yes, eventually.”
As he looked at her, his thoughts turned to the upcoming battle. “How dangerous will this be for you?”
“Mild to moderate.”
“I’m serious. Are you worried?”
“No.”
“No?”
“I’ve come against worse and won.”
“Worse than an army of unkillable monsters?”
“They’re not unkillable to things like me. All one need do is remove the head. My soldiers and I can do that with one hand tied behind our backs. In fact, on one occasion, I had to do just that. I had been vacationing in Santorini, I think it was around the end of the nineteenth century. Beginning of the twentieth? I had gotten a tad reckless, exposed myself. The locals discovered what I was and before I knew it, they had me strapped to a stake. They were cocky, so sure of their vampire hunting abilities. The smug looks on their faces made my blood boil even bef
ore the fire was set. The man with the torch made the mistake of getting just a little too close--”
“I feel like I don’t want to hear the rest of that story.”
“Oh. Then, perhaps you’d like me to tell you about the time I aided the Ottoman Empire in taking down one of my own? It was December 1476. He’d been drawing attention to himself for years and the number of dead he left as trophies, just out in the open, was a clear violation of my laws. I could not abide it. So, I found him in Bucharest--”
Wyatt shook his head, indicating that he didn’t want to hear that story, either.
“The Crusades?”
“No.”
“Pompeii?”
“Uh, uh.”
“Battling the Neph--” She stopped herself.
He gave her a stern look of warning.
“Of course,” she said, touching his cheek. “My point is, you don’t have to worry about me. I’ve been taking care of myself for a very long time.”
“I know that, but it doesn’t change the way I feel.”
“And, how do you feel?”
He brought her hand to his lips and closed his eyes, taking in the sweet scent of the perfume she had made from the gardenias that grew in her rooftop garden. It rose from her wrist and enveloped his senses with nearly the same intoxicating quality as her pheromones. His hunger for her again began to build as she moved closer. His mind went foggy as she brushed his chin with her fingertips.
“Wyatt, how do you feel?”
He struggled to speak, her pheromones taking hold. He ran his hand over her body, starting at her neck and gliding his fingers down. “Are you tired?”
“Almost,” she breathed, her cheeks flushed and her skin tingling. Her eyes bore into his, the intensity between them growing. “I want you to exhaust me.”
Unable to hold back, he threw himself on top of her, spreading her legs wide and entering with more force than usual. She drew in a sharp breath as he buried his face in her hair and kissed her neck, her hands sliding down his back. She writhed against him, hushed moans escaping her lips as her body quaked. All thoughts of the upcoming conflict and inevitable bloodshed fled their minds. At that moment, there was only this room, this bed, and each other. Nothing else mattered.
Chapter 33
Spade and his men had just made camp in the Iraqi desert, taking time to rest before the impending battle. The soldiers moved like robots, never speaking and doing as they were told with efficiency. If things continued to run this smoothly, they’d have their target destroyed and be on their way home by lunch. He didn’t want to get too arrogant, though. The scout he’d sent to the apartment of the woman whose clothes he’d put a tracker on had never returned, most likely meaning that he’d been killed. In war, things can go sideways at the drop of a hat. Best not to get too comfortable.
In the distance, he spotted a convoy of pickup trucks heading toward the camp. As they drew closer, he could see the machine guns mounted on them with men in the beds at the ready. Typical Islamic extremist fighters. He’d dealt with these groups dozens of times over the years and prepared himself to talk them down, hoping to avoid a conflict.
The trucks stopped and one man walked toward him, apparently the speaker for the group. He held a rifle but didn’t point it at him. Instead, he looked him over, distrust and contempt evident in his eyes. “What are you doing here?” he asked, more of an accusation than a question.
“We’ve gotten word that a neo-Nazi outfit is here looking to destroy Muslim cultural sites,” Spade lied, feeding him the same story he’d told authorities when he’d arrived. “We’re here to apprehend them and take them back to the States for prosecution.”
The man was clearly skeptical.
“Have you seen this man?” Spade pulled a picture from his pocket and showed it to him. It was of the wounded soldier that hadn’t returned from the scouting mission. “We believe he’s the ringleader of the operation. Goes by ‘Charlie’.”
The man shook his head after examining the photo.
“All right, well, we’ll be here for a few hours to grab some shut-eye then we’ll be out of your hair.”
“No,” the man insisted. “You will leave now.” He raised his hand, signaling the others. They began knocking things over and using knives to tear at the tents the soldiers were sleeping in.
Spade frowned. “We don’t want any trouble.”
“But, you have found it. We will take your weapons and tanks and leave you to die. That will teach your government to interfere in matters that don’t concern them. If there are people trying to destroy our history, we will handle them, our way.”
The commotion woke the soldiers who stumbled out of the tents, their eyes distant. They stood quietly, waiting for orders, unable to make a move without instruction. Thousands of them gathered, silent as the extremists readied their weapons.
“Are you sure you want to die?” Spade asked the leader.
The man scoffed. “It is you who wi--”
Spade pulled his side-arm and shot the man in the forehead. “Kill them!”
The soldiers leaped into action, shooting, stabbing and strangling everyone in the opposition. As they, too, were injured, they kept attacking, ignoring their own bullet wounds. Spade ducked behind an LUV and watched enthusiastically as his men took out the enemy without hesitation. They had no fear, no survival instinct and seemed incapable of feeling pain. They were murdering machines devoid of emotion or thought. They had a singular goal: carry out their Commander’s orders. Perfect soldiers. “Thank you, Lilith,” Spade whispered.
When the dust settled and the last of the extremists was dead, he called to his men, “At ease!” They stopped in their tracks. After assessing the damage, he gave the next order. “Put the bodies in the trucks and confiscate the weapons.” The men did as they were told, carrying two corpses at a time to the pickups and throwing them in the beds. They gathered the guns and laid them in a pile at Spade’s feet. “Pack up. Once we get moving, we’ll IED those sons of bitches.” The soldiers got to work with no complaints, some bleeding from the chest, a few spilling blood and brain matter from gaping head wounds. He watched in awe as they labored, the guilt of stripping them of their humanity replaced by excitement. He was confident now that they would have no problem completing their mission and fulfilling his duty to his employer. From there, the sky was the limit. With an army of unkillable soldiers, his business would become even more profitable. Since they were basically robots, they would never need to go home. He may even get away with not paying them. He felt invigorated and was actually looking forward to the next battle.
The men filled the LUV’s and DPV’s after setting the bombs and as they drove away, the timer ticked down. The last vehicle was less than half a mile away when the timer reached zero, setting off a chain of explosions so loud, Spade worried that more hostiles would show up, causing another conflict. As he looked over the three soldiers in the vehicle with him, stone-faced and diligent, he smiled and said to himself, “Let them come.”
Chapter 34
“Who’s she talking to?” Wyatt asked, watching Gabriel pace around the back of the plane as he absentmindedly stroked Allydia’s hair, her head in his lap as she slept.
“The president of Iraq,” Lucifer answered, sitting across from him and next to Wendy. “The area needs to be evacuated.”
“How does she plan on getting him to do that?”
“Bribery, I imagine.”
“Is she all right?” Wendy wondered, looking at Allydia’s motionless face.
“She’s fine,” Wyatt insisted.
“It doesn’t look like she’s breathing.”
“That’s because she’s a vampire,” Lucifer informed her.
“Well, sure.” She looked her over, head tilted and eyebrows furrowed.
“What?” Wyatt scowled.
“Nothing, I just didn’t think they’d be so hot. I had this whole pale, sunken in cheeks, Nosferatu picture in my head. Also, I’m a
little surprised they don’t sleep in coffins.”
Lucifer chuckled. “I like this one.”
“We should all be getting some sleep,” Valerie interjected from across the aisle. “Thousands of what-the-fucks aren’t gonna kill themselves and I don’t know about you, but I want to be alert when I get to head-chopping.”
Wendy smiled. “You’re amazing.”
“All right, kids,” Gabriel said, sitting across from Valerie and putting her phone in her bag. “He’s evacuating a fifty-mile radius. Should be plenty to prevent any civilian casualties.”
“How much did that cost you?” Lucifer inquired.
“Two million.”
“Holy crap!” Wendy gasped.
“It’s all right, love,” Lucifer told her. “My sister has nearly limitless funds. Inherited wealth, you understand. She didn’t tell you?”
She shook her head.
Gabriel shot him a look. “It’s not important.”
“Of course not,” he smirked. “But, seeing as how you’ve yet to tell any of us how exactly you came to acquire your family fortune, one can’t help but wonder.”
“I didn’t kill my parents, dick.”
“No, I wouldn’t think so. But, something happened to them and your refusal to discuss it must mean that their deaths weren’t purely natural.”
Wyatt stared him down. “Do I have to get up?”
Lucifer raised his eyebrow.
“Can we focus?” Valerie snapped. “You all know we’re heading into a war zone, right? We’re about to be knee-deep in zombie-soldiers shooting at us, armed with nothing but a sword, some crystals, fireworks and a bunch of blood-suckers who, for the life of me, I can’t figure out why they’d be helping us. Exactly why in the ever-loving fuck are you bickering right now?”
The group was silent for a moment before Lucifer snorted. “They’re not ‘zombies’. They’re alive, just--”
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Okay, there’s obviously some tension here, so,” Wendy waved her hand at them. “Somnus.”
Wyatt, Valerie, and Lucifer fell unconscious as Gabriel beamed. “You’re the best thing ever.”
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