Betrayal

by ML Guida

  “The bastard gave Susan a knife and made sure your angel-mate had none. You were so busy fighting to save him…”

  Blade still fought to breathe. He clawed the dirt with his fingers. The pain must be incredible.

  Running his hand through his hair, Scythe’s thoughts bombarded him. Hurt Blade. Kill Blade. “No, don’t hurt him.”

  “Why? She’s dying,” Michael inquired.

  “What?” his voice croaked. “No, she’s not. I gave her Christ’s Most Precious Blood Cross and I’ve mated with her.”

  “The Xanadu.”

  “You can heal…”

  “Raphael went over this with you, correct?”

  “Yeah, but…”

  “No buts.”

  Michael pointed his finger down and Scythe sank to the ground. He didn’t care about Michael. All he cared about was Heather. He put his palm over Heather’s mouth and nearly wept when her hot breath exhaled onto his skin. She was weak, but alive.

  “Xanadu attacks any mortal wounds and kills the victim. It’s from hell. What did you expect? She’s not immortal until she accepts being your angel-mate.”

  “Bless you.” Scythe cradled Heather against his chest and buried his face into her hair. He buried his tears into her soft strands. “Heather,” he whispered in her ear. “Wake up.”

  She groaned. Hope soared through Scythe. Her eyes fluttered, but remained closed. His hope withered.

  “He killed your angel-mate,” Michael said.

  Scythe lifted his head. Michael turned and walked over to Blade. He hung his head. It would be easy for Michael to cut off his head.

  He kissed Heather on her perspiring forehead. Salt coated his lips. He lowered her onto the grass. “I love you.” She moaned and her eyebrows furrowed, but she didn’t wake. He followed Michael’s steps. “No, don’t.”

  Michael lifted the sword.

  Scythe lunged and landed on top of his brother.

  “Get off me,” Blade mumbled.

  “Shut up,” Scythe said. He could feel his brother’s thumping heart and despite his brave front, Blade trembled and was drenched with sweat. He was like a little boy about ready to be jumped by the playground bully.

  “Get. Off. Him. Now,” Michael said.

  Power emitted from those few words. Scythe hated disappointing him, but he couldn’t let his brother die. “No.”

  Blade bucked him, but Scythe wrapped his arms around his waist.

  “I don’t need your help,” Blade panted. “I don’t need anyone’s help.”

  “Stuff it.” Scythe wanted to shake him, but despite his snarling voice, Blade was about as fierce as a new born calf against a pissed off mountain lion.

  Fingers scratched his head and his neck was wrenched back. Michael stared, no mercy in his eyes. “I’m not going to ask you again.”

  Beneath him, Blade struggled. The fool. Didn’t he realize any minute he’d be a dead demon?

  Scythe met Michael’s lethal gaze. “I’m not leaving him.”

  “He needs to pay for his sins.”

  “Take me instead,” Scythe blurted again. A hollow pit filled him at not seeing Heather, but he knew Michael. Michael wouldn’t let her die. Scythe had to believe. He had to trust him. Her life depended on it.

  Michael shook his head. “So, we are back to this again?”

  “I’ll die for his sins.”

  “Have it your way.” He pressed Excalibur to Scythe’s neck, the sharp blade cut into his skin. Wetness trickled down his throat and onto his chest. He couldn’t even swallow. Any minute, he’d be the headless Angel of Death.

  20

  Lightning hit the ground. Everything lit up as if a giant light bulb flicked on. Michael lowered his sword. “Shit.”

  Swallowing, Scythe put his hand to his throat. Electricity hung in the hair.

  “Not cool, Michael.”

  Scythe raised his head. “Raphael.”

  Raphael had his arms folded across his chest. His hair fell across his shoulders and he had on a denim jacket and jeans. Scythe cocked his eyebrow. “Where are your shoes?”

  “His goons took them.”

  “Bite me,” Michael said.

  Raphael waved his hand and the moon glowed brighter. “Now, what do we have here?” He tapped his lips. “Ah, right. You’re wanted back home.”

  Michael put Excalibur back in its sheath. “Ran and told?”

  “Like you wouldn’t.”

  “I’m not a pansy ass tattletale.”

  “Ah, locking me up so you can renege on your deal isn’t a minor offense, bro.”

  “Yeah, whatever.”

  “The Boss wants to see you. Now.”

  Michael raised his eyebrow. “You’re loving this, aren’t you?”

  Scythe trembled. The one entity no one crossed in Heaven was Saint Peter. He oversaw all the Angels, including the Archangels. He was the mouthpiece for all the Heavy Weights. It always rubbed Michael the wrong way that a human was his boss rather than God, especially since he had the job first.

  Michael didn’t question orders, but it didn’t mean he liked it. Saint Peter could throw an angel into Purgatory for disobedience which wasn’t a fun place to be, not with all the human souls begging to be taken to Heaven. Michael absolutely hated whining. But the worst part was being separated from the Heavenly Host and feeling alone and vulnerable and forsaken. Not that Michael was in danger, but he had some definite fast talking to do. Scythe wouldn’t want to be wearing his wings.

  Raphael waved. “Bye, bro.”

  “I’ll remember this.” Michael vanished.

  Scythe frowned. “So, how did you get out?”

  “You.”

  “What? How?”

  “You offered to switch places with your brother. If you can believe it, it was the key to releasing me from my cell. Michael never bet you would do it.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “It’s what I said. Michael didn’t make a physical key. It was the words or more the sincere intention of you willing to lay down your life for your brother.”

  “That’s fucking bullshit,” Blade said. “Get off me!”

  Raphael chuckled. “Ah, coming from someone who Michael almost had his balls on a platter.”

  Scythe slid to the side. “So, you’re going to heal him now.”

  “I will.”

  Scythe breathed a sigh of relief. He’d done it. He’d saved his brother’s soul. They could be brothers again. “Then do it.”

  Raphael held up his palm. “In good time, my boy.”

  Scythe frowned. “What? But you said…”

  Blade wiggled on the ground like a worm. “Let me up.”

  “Not just yet.” Raphael strolled around Blade as if he was an interesting beast at the zoo..

  “What do you mean?” Blade growled.

  Raphael stood in front of Blade. “You and I have unfinished business.”

  His hair dangling in his face, Blade peered through his strands of hair. “Stay away from me.”

  “Oh, I’m not going to do anything to you.”

  Scythe couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “So you’re not…”

  Raphael glared. “Don’t assume anything.”

  Above a star twinkled brighter than any of the others. Its tail sparkled, growing longer. A piece broke and floated down through the dark sky like a blazing comet.

  Raphael pushed Scythe off his brother, then dragged Blade to his feet. “Someone wants to talk to you, boy.”

  “Who?”

  “You’ll see,” Raphael said.

  Dread sank into Scythe’s gut. He glanced at his brother. Blade’s face paled and he gritted his teeth. A smell of sweet red roses filled the air.

  Scythe looked at Raphael. “Who is it?”

  Raphael shrugged.

  Scythe looked at Blade and at Raphael. “Don’t do this.”

  “You didn’t think he’d be healed unscathed, did you?”

  Scythe wanted to smack Raphael’s
curious face, but he couldn’t move his arms. Damn, him!

  The sparkling star transformed into a bubble twirling and swirling in the air. It gently descended, passing the silhouette of the mountains and pine and aspen trees. When the bottom of the bubble touched down, it burst. A woman stood there. The moon glistened on her long red hair. Her white gown twinkled in the light.

  Blade fell onto his knees. “It can’t be.”

  She walked across the ground barefoot or more like floated. When she came to Blade, she stopped. She looked down at Blade, her illuminating eyes filled with sorrow.

  “Samantha,” Blade whispered.

  Samantha caressed his cheek. Blade closed his eyes, leaning his face against her palm.

  “You’ve made quite a mess of things,” she said.

  Scythe glanced at Raphael who had a smug look on his face. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “My punishment is a little different than Michael’s,” he said. Like that was supposed to make this all right, torturing his brother with his angel-mate.

  “You’re an ass,” Scythe mumbled.

  Blade opened his eyes. He clasped her hand. “I did this all for you.”

  Samantha pushed his hair out of his face. “For me?”

  “Yes, I love you.”

  She gave him a sad smile. “If you truly loved me, you wouldn’t have done this.”

  He clasped both his hands around hers. “How can you say that? You were my angel-mate.”

  Desperation rang in his voice.

  “Was I?” She pulled her hand from his.

  Blade hung his head and slumped his shoulders. A lump formed in Scythe’s throat. If Heather had spoken those words, she’d rip Scythe’s heart out.

  Heather was still alive, sleeping peacefully, but Blade’s mate was dead, a soul, no longer living flesh. Samantha’s presence was an illusion. Scythe wanted to run over to Heather and gather her in his arms to make sure she was real, but he remained in place.

  Blade lifted his head. “Why don’t you believe me?”

  “Because I was never your angel-mate.”

  Anger flashed in his eyes. “What the hell are you talking about? Did Michael talk to you? Brainwash you?”

  “Blade, I did love you, but I wasn’t chosen for you.” She ran her hand down his arm. “Someone else was.”

  “Bullshit,” Blade spat. “The Archangels are fucking with your mind.”

  “I’m dead, Blade. I don’t have a mind.”

  Scythe winced. Brutal, but true.

  Blade ran his hands through his hair. “Yes, you do. Your essence is still the same.” He glared at Raphael. “You did this to her, you bastard. I swear to God I’m going…”

  “To kill me?” Raphael finished the sentenced. “That would be a neat trick. Keep your pants on and listen to her.”

  “She doesn’t know what the hell she’s talking about. She’s mine. My angel-mate.”

  He roared the last two words. His pain twisted Scythe’s stomach into a tangled bow. He wanted to say something, anything, but no words came to mine. What was Raphael’s game? At least, Michael had been straight with his intention. “Blade…”

  “Shut up, shut up.” Blade threw his hands up in the air. “You’re part of this.”

  Blade stormed over to him and punched Scythe in the jaw. Scythe staggered. Pain exploded on his chin, and metallic ran in his mouth. Scythe clenched his fist and swung. He smacked Blade in the stomach and he doubled over.

  “No!” Samantha cried. “Stop. Both of you.”

  Raphael grabbed Scythe’s arm. “She’s right.” The same healing power surged through Scythe. His broken shoulder bone mended and his torn muscle wove back together. He moved his fingers. “I’m not gonna…”

  “Yeah, you are.” The finality in Raphael’s voice squashed Scythe’s urge to beat the crap out of his brother.

  Blade stood, holding his gut and giving Scythe a death glare. Blade clenched his fist and Scythe stiffened, ready for another punch.

  Samantha touched Blade’s shoulder. “You need to stop. Look at me.”

  Blade was breathing fast, but he looked at Samantha.

  Samantha gestured with her hand toward Scythe. “You know he didn’t kill me.”

  “But he could have saved you. He knew…”

  “That I was your angel-mate? You’re still not listening. I’m not your angel-mate. I’ve moved on.”

  “Excuse me?” Blade said. “You don’t want me anymore.”

  His hurt voice reminded Scythe of a teenage boy rejected by his first crush.

  She threw her head back and laughed. “Of course, I want you, but I’m a spirit. We can’t be together. It wasn’t destiny.”

  “Quit saying that.”

  “Why? Because it’s true.” She walked away from him. “I’ve seen your angel-mate.”

  Scythe turned to Raphael and cocked his eyebrow. “You actually let her see the woman who’s going to replace her?”

  Raphael shrugged. “She asked.”

  Blade pointed at Samantha. “She didn’t deserve that, you bastard.”

  Samantha shook her finger. “Blade will you stop shouting and raving like an animal?”

  “He shouldn’t have done that to you,” Blade insisted. His little boy voice attempted to justify his actions.

  “If you would stop acting like a crazed demon, you’d be able to see I’m happy and at peace. I don’t want to be an angel-mate. I’m happy where I am.”

  Blade charged. Scythe broke free of Raphael’s grasp and faced his brother. Blade hit him hard. Scythe fell onto his back with his brother landing on his chest and pinning his arms with his legs and his fists wailing on his face like he was a punching bag. “Die. Die. Die.”

  Scythe arched his back, but Blade shoved him back to the ground. Scythe gasped for air. Blade’s breath changed from stinking garbage to sweet pine. The evil within him was dying, but it struggled to survive by clinging and fueling his hate.

  “Blade, stop it.” With each word, Samantha slapped her palms on her thighs.

  “No, I hate him. I hate him.” Blade smashed his fists into Scythe’s face, bloodying his nose.

  Scythe took in all of Blade’s hate, but didn’t hit him his back. His brother was in enough agony.

  “Even in Heaven, they’d have these rounds.” Raphael snatched a blade of grass and chewed on it. “Two supposed mature angels trying to kill each other. Damn nuisance.”

  “Raphael, get him the hell off me and heal him.”

  “You’ll live.”

  “Blade, look at me,” Samantha said.

  Heaving, Blade stopped. Scythe couldn’t open his eyes again. Shit, this was getting old. Wetness streamed down his cheek and he tasted metallic in his mouth.

  “You ruined my life,” Blade said. The pain and misery in his voice hit Scythe in his gut. How would he and Blade ever be brothers again? Would they always be enemies? Sworn to kill each other for eternity? He could do many things, but killing his brother wasn’t one of them. Not now. Not ever.

  Samantha stood next to them. Her dress brushed over Scythe’s arm. “No, he didn’t.” She touched Blade’s shoulder. “Look at me.”

  Scythe felt Blade’s thighs trembling. His brother hung his head and clenched his jaw. He slowly turned his head.

  She stretched out her arm. “Give me your hand.”

  Blade gave her his, and slid off Scythe. Scythe coughed and spat out blood onto the ground. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “Blade, will you listen?”

  “Shut up or I’ll rip out your tongue,” Blade growled.

  The moon’s light dimmed. The wind picked up and the trees rustled and whooshed. Even the lights inside the cabin paled. A bad feeling settled in Scythe’s heart. What game was Raphael playing?

  Samantha cupped his cheek. “Look into your heart.”

  “I love you. That’s all I know.”

  She dropped her hand. “If you really loved me, you wouldn’t have killed all those people nor w
ould you have fallen.”

  Blade winced. “You don’t understand…”

  “I don’t understand what? Bitterness? Rage? Hate? What?”

  “See you don’t understand. You’re not even trying.”

  “Maybe I don’t. For what I’m told, if we were angel-mates, you wouldn’t have to convince me of your actions. We would think as one.”

  “They murdered you before I could claim you.”

  “Blade.” She cupped his stubborn face. “All my life I had to fight for what’s mine. When you found me, I was an attorney working over eighty hours a week. I did it because I couldn’t face my life, my family.”

  “I was your new family.”

  “No, God was my family. You don’t get it. Or more like you don’t want to get it.”

  She released his cheeks and looked up at the sky, her face glowed. “I’ve moved on. I want you to forget about me and get on with what you were meant to be—an angel.”

  “Never.”

  Scythe struggled to stand. “Now, you’re being a stubborn ass.”

  Blade glared. “This doesn’t concern you.”

  His rage was barely contained and any minute he could jump him again.

  Scythe rubbed his throbbing cheek. “Yeah, it does. Whether you like it or not, we’re brothers. I’ve gone to hell and back to try and save your dumb ass.”

  Blade clapped his hands. “Well, let’s give the boy a medal.”

  “Blade, for all that you’ve done, your brother still loves you,” Samantha said.

  “Even when you tortured my mate,” Scythe muttered. He stared at Heather’s unconscious form. How the hell was he supposed to heal her guilt? He didn’t even know how to heal his own brother.

  Blade lifted his chin in defiance. “Well, I don’t…”

  Samantha put her finger on his lips. “Don’t. I have found my every desire. I want you to find yours.”

  He clasped her finger and held it to his chest. “You’re my desire.”

  She gently pulled her hand away. “No, Blade, you’re desire isn’t me.”

  “Then what is it, pray tell?”

  Scythe wanted to shake some sense into him except the idiot had been hanging out with Balthazar for way too long. When his brother stuck his chin out, he was stiffer than a starched shirt. There was no reasoning with him—nothing more stubborn than a know-it-all-angel.