Fallen Angel 4: Cold-Blooded Fate Page 8

  The smell of burning flesh stained the air as black smoke billowed up to the Heavens. Michael eased back to escape the scent and the radiating heat as the other angels did too. He stumbled for a moment—not on anything but his feet. His body had been humming all through his descent below and during this revelation from the vampires, but now the humming elevated from consistent and powerful to raging and body shaking. God’s power had been infused in Michael after his hybrid report for a reason—to use against the half-breed monsters to send them to Hell, he’d assumed. Now at this first stop, there was no need to blast these hybrids that were already rendered dead. There was no need to open up the Earth’s crust and drive them over the edge to fall to Hell. There were many more camps of dangerous hybrids across this land. After their leader perished, they had scattered, taking over small towns and farmlands and leaving a trail of death and destruction in their wake.

  Was he meant to carry this power with him from this place to the next? Was he expected to unleash it in small doses until they were all eradicated?

  Michael went down to one knee, the vibrations taking out his ability to stand. He would never make it, not even to another defiled camp. Even his wings quaked at his back, refusing to extend to give him flight.

  “What ails you?” Lord Bathory appeared before Michael, his face close as he knelt. “What is wrong?”

  Though he was alone and now weakened by unbridled power, the other vampires didn’t act against him in any way. Gathering around, the looks on their faces portrayed deep concern and worry.

  Lord Bathory nodded to Ruthaven, and they grabbed Michael by his arms to haul him up.

  Michael shoved them off, their hands on his suddenly sensitive skin feeling colder than ice. His body that always glowed dimly now shone in a halo of white-blue light. Michael planted a hand on the hilt sheathed at his side to keep from taking a hit of dirt to the face. And then he felt it. As Michael shoved with all his strength to stay kneeling, the power in him siphoned from his hand into the sword he clung to. Suddenly lighter, he rose to his feet as the vampires took a few tentative steps back. The surrounding angels stepped closer, creating a loose barricade. Michael’s sword—the angel sword—glowed electric blue as he arced it free of its scabbard.

  “We have done God’s work.” Lord Bathory held up his hands, palms forward. The look on his face was one of total confusion. “We never killed to feed. Not even once.”

  “Every life we have taken has been to protect the innocent,” Lord Ruthaven continued as the other vampires retreated faster now, looking ready to turn and dart past the waiting angels. “We were doing the work of angels. The work of God.”

  Michael did not hold any care that these vampires would be snuffed out. They were not his charge, his concern. Yet they were changed, and they were of use. So as the ingrained intentions in him bubbled to the surface, he was happy to follow through and act out what God needed him to do. “And you will continue to do so.”

  With both hands on the hilt, Michael lifted the sword high and then drove the glowing blade down. The ground cracked outward from the embedded tip, blue light flooding down into the dirt—and shooting out in twelve jagged blue forks. It all happened so fast the vampires had no time to flee.

  And then they were hit.

  Like lightning had erupted from the ground, blue volts twisted up their legs and bodies, dissolving as the glowing veins burned out across their faces. Each man gasped at the shock and flood of sensation, their eyes wide in fear and anticipation of the next step.

  Now free of all but a trace of overwhelming power, Michael re-sheathed his sword. What he said next came to him internally, as if it were a message that lingered from what God had infused in him. “For your service and devotion to light, you have been rewarded. Now you too can populate the Earth with your kind. You can build a race with humanity through bite and blood with the ability to combat the infection you chose to escape. It is your duty to serve the God that spared you. As it is your duty to control that which you create. Will you continue to fight for the right side, to align with light and build your strength in numbers?”

  Lord Bathory bowed down to one knee a moment before Lord Ruthaven. “We will forge an allied race.”

  The remaining ten vampires bowed after the words left their young leader’s mouth. As one their voices were clear, unwavering. “We align with light.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Lucifer gazed longingly at Gabriel as she lay beside him on his bed in quiet slumber. With her hands tucked under her chin and her knees bent as she faced him, her breaths were silent but for the rise and fall of her chest. Gabriel looked like every bit the angel she was, innocent and pure, a gentle glow haloing her entire body. Her body was sheltered by a black slip that reached all the way down to her toes when she stood. Lucifer longed to touch her, to rouse her from sleep and see the hopeful longing in her eyes, but he curled his reaching fingers back before he could. Her wings provided further refuge, draped over her shoulder and back as if acting as a protective blanket. From him?

  Though he saw Gabriel every day, something had changed since Darius attacked her. After Lucifer’s public warning that tore the limbs from the hybrid’s body and broke Cyrus’s close to beyond repair, that progression had worsened. She had been less able to look him in the eye with each passing day, with each passing act of continued cruelty. She remained behind now when he was required to act out his role as the Dark Prince of Hell, sequestering herself to this chamber alone as if imprisoned. The blank expression on Gabriel’s face as Lucifer spied her through the mirror pendant he now hung from a cord around his neck proved her detachment. And when he reached for her, when he sought to draw her into his shaking arms to seek refuge from her touch—she went rigid in his embrace. Gabriel even pushed him back now, stopping their bodies from touching when fully clothed. As if his presence, his touch, hurt her, disgusted her.

  This place was breaking her.

  The light in Gabriel’s eyes was gone, forfeited for troubled contemplation when he managed to catch a glimpse, but otherwise glazed and devoid of that hope she had always exuded.

  But it was a lie Lucifer told himself, and he knew it. It was not this place that was breaking her. Not really. It was him—and all that he was, all he had become.

  Gabriel may love him still, but he was certain of one thing…she hated him too.

  Granting himself one last concession, Lucifer leaned in and pressed his lips to Gabriel’s forehead. He lingered there, relishing the warmth of her skin against his starved lips and the sweet floral scent that was unique to her alone. “I love you, now and forever. Please…forgive me.”

  Pulling away from Gabriel as she nuzzled into her hands with a small groan was one of the hardest things Lucifer had ever done. But it was time. His plan, the one he’d known he had to act on since her attack, could no longer be put off despite how much he wished it could. Lucifer eased off the bed, his leathers and armor covering his worked muscles and scarred skin as well as the stumps across his back that had once sprouted glorious wings. His hope for salvation was gone. But hers didn’t have to be.

  With one last delayed look—because this could be the last time he ever saw her—Lucifer attached his scabbard, maneuvered around a pillar and over the winding lava track, and exited quietly through the main doors. Gabriel’s pets padded in on huge paws at the wave of his hand. “Keep her safe.” Plonking majestically at the end of the bed, Zallina and Zax dropped to their bellies but kept their heads elevated to keep watch. Fire shot up around the room with a crackling hum, sealing them and Gabriel inside. And this time, no one would sneak in to create havoc. After the attack, Lucifer had sealed over the secret entry with burning lava that had hardened to stone.

  With his eyes burning with unshed tears, Lucifer turned away, not allowing himself to behold her wavy form through the flames again for fear that he would take the coward’s route and change his mind. This was what was best for her. It was what he should have done from t
he start, as soon as her new wings began to sprout.

  Clearing the long hallways and black glittery stairs that arced down to the throne room, and the path down to the city outskirts below, the castle soon became a shrinking spectacle way up behind him. Ash coated his bare feet as he walked on, and a caw from above announced Belial following from above. Too soon, Lucifer reached the mountain he had climbed on his first day in Hell, and then he was back at that same spot he had glimpsed the small civilization through.

  Easing back into the rocks that jabbed into his arms and neck and scraped at his armor, Lucifer let his head fall back and took a few deep breaths. There was no going back now. He wedged a hand between his chest plate and the leather that molded to his chest and pulled out the one stolen feather that remained from Darius’s attack. He and his father had failed to use the item to achieve their freedom, but instant travel was not the only gift an angelic article of this caliber could deliver.

  Cupping the damaged feather in his palms, Lucifer didn’t speak words of escape and freedom. He didn’t wish to leave this place and all he had become. But he did wish for her. From his mind, his plea was not for himself. That hope had long sailed. God had set him up to fail. He had given him hope, but the darkness never left. Now it was a constant inside of him. And he knew their bargain, at least from God’s side, had no intention of ever being fulfilled. Sending his words out as if allowing the shreds of his soul to soar, Lucifer pleaded for Gabriel, for her salvation, her acceptance back to where she belonged.

  In Heaven.

  “Please hear me, God. Keep my wings and I will follow my position, but welcome her into your arms of light. Reignite her love and hope. Bring Gabriel home.”

  A subtle stirring had Lucifer’s skin prickling with a wave of bumps. The feather vanished from his upturned palm, and his eyes flashed open to see that he was no longer alone. Before him was not the one he had hoped to see, yet it was all he had expected in his desperate hopes. God would never lower himself to a place like this.

  “Remiel.” Lucifer nodded to the angel that was here yet not quite here at the same time. Mirroring his last visit, his robed body that was sheltered from shoulder to toes was only semi-corporeal, allowing Lucifer to see right through him down the plunging cliffs to the snaking lake of fire below. But something had changed. Like Gabriel, his wings that had been absent during his last visit were now long and downy silver lengths that draped down from his back. “I pray you grace me with your presence with good intentions, considering your last bargain was not stacked in my favor.”

  Remiel took in Lucifer’s dirty battle gear and fresh scars before meeting his eyes. Seeing the darkness that never quite receded anymore, he sighed and looked downward, shaking his head. “What you beg cannot be granted. Not anymore. Only a pure soul can be lifted up to Heaven’s height.”

  Fire blazed in Lucifer’s eyes and he stepped forward, his hands balling into fists that spat flames from between his tight fingers. “She is pure, the purest. Even in this Hell, she clings to all that is good in her. She deserves his acceptance. She deserves his love.”

  Remiel, now frowning but unafraid, did not step back or fade. Instead, he appeared saddened. “And she has it. But one pure soul does no enlighten another that has been touched by true darkness…”

  Lucifer roared as he swung a fist at Remiel’s face—and spun full circle at the force when his driving arm sailed right through the angelic projection. Breathing fast and blood racing as if it were a sequence of plunging waterfalls, small licks of fire sprouted all over his body. “Because I have touched her?” His voice was incredulous, in part due to the irony. Michael’s touch had been accepted, his body forced to connect with hers. Yet Lucifer’s was shunned, forbidden, a disgusting act that made him worthy of life in Hell. Still, it always came back to him. He ruined their existence. And now he had ruined her. His lust and his love had destroyed any hope of her return Above.

  “In part because you have touched her…” Remiel’s soft words froze Lucifer. Again he sighed. “Though indirectly.”

  “What in Hell does that mean? Cut out your noble riddles and speak plainly. Tell me why.”

  Remiel began to fade, and Lucifer’s heart pounded faster at the vanishing sight of him. “You will know soon enough. The pure cannot hide the truth for long…it muddies the tranquility of their very soul.”

  Lucifer clawed out to grab hold of Remiel despite knowing there was no keeping him here. He passed through the angel’s form right before he vanished from sight. Breathing hard, he turned back to the rising rocks and pressed his sweating palms against the sharp surface. Touched by darkness. Hidden truth…

  If it was not all on him, what else could Remiel have meant? Was there something Gabriel hadn’t told him? Was she keeping something from him?

  Yes or no, he would never know. Questioning Gabriel would force him to reveal the source of his unwarranted distrust, the actions he had taken to send her away from him and back to Heaven. Lucifer cursed himself for even thinking to doubt her, yet, at the same time, he couldn’t help going over her gradual withdrawal from his monstrous presence and his loving touch.

  “What are you hiding from me?”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Michael eased quietly with creeping slowness from the garden that had once been Gabriel’s special place. Up the long bright corridor, there was not a soul to be seen. With her gone, no one ventured into the ruined landscape at all. Its charred rolling hills, scorched trees that were no more than skeletal remains, and waterfall that gushed dirty brown sludge were of no appeal to anyone in the Realm of Light anymore. The sensations that alerted him to the presence of other angels was dull at best too. Michael released the breath he had been holding, glad a generous splatter of hybrid blood kept his actions and thoughts hidden from God.

  Despite the relief, something twinged in him at the memory of all he’d witnessed in her garden before and after it had been stripped of brilliant color and light. Gabriel with Lucifer, touching, kissing, naked…

  The memory slipped away like sand through splayed fingers, leaving nothing to hinder Michael’s steps along the luminous corridor. His stash of hybrid blood was safe, and growing with every venture below by his hands and the few warrior angels he had come to trust. He wasn’t sure what he would need his secret stash for yet, but something deep down in him promised that one day it would become a vital resource.

  Now Michael was off to the scribe vault after a quick stop into the cleaning pools to rid him of all the blood that slicked his body with traces of black-laced red. Though his blood sourcing would remain secret, he needed to report on his time below that had resulted in the deaths of many more hybrids. Following protocol was a necessary task, one that kept order and kept suspicion from rising.

  With his wet hair dripping down his back a little later, Michael stalled right inside the entrance to the scribe vault. Unlike most days at this time, the vault was not empty. Remiel sat with his back to the opening, his gray wings stretched out across the floor as he hurriedly scribbled black ink across a long papyrus with the tip of one of his own regrown feathers.

  Remiel went still the moment he realized he was no longer alone. Dropping the feather on the glowing platform, he rolled the curling paper up even though the wet ink would stain and smear. Spinning up from the stump that acted as a perch, he faced his interruption. “Michael. You have returned earlier than I expected.”

  Michael noticed the way Remiel’s hand curled tighter around the length of papyrus at his side, his wing tucking in close around one shoulder as if to conceal its existence. “What it is you have such need to report? You do not venture below, not since your wings were severed.”

  Remiel went to side step, aiming to engulf his report in the blue flames spearing up from the central well.

  Michael darted forward in haste, snatching the scroll before devouring light could consume the paper and deliver its message up to God. “You saw something vital through the looking glass?”
>
  Remiel shook his head. “No. Not the looking glass.”

  Michael went to unravel the papyrus, a desperate need in him to read what was so important and so secretive rising.

  Remiel’s palm on his forearm stayed his hand. “Michael, please. This is not something you want to know,” he declared. “Even if you cannot feel for her anymore,” he whispered under his breath.

  The cryptic warning only heightened Michael’s need to know further. He held the curled paper between them, tapping the top against the other angel’s forehead. “Either you tell me, or I read every word you have scrawled here. Make your choice.”

  Mouth opening with a sigh of frustration, Remiel shook his head. “You will regret it. Maybe not this day, but eventually…”

  With no retraction from Michael, Remiel leaned into him, brushing his black hair back that was drying into thick open waves. His words were a whisper, so low that even Michael had to strain to hear them. But he heard them all right. Every single syllable.

  “Gabriel carries Lucifer’s spawn. She is pregnant.”

  Michael felt the shock of this news hit him like a force of God. Flashes of his own memory bubbled up as if alive and trying to swim to the surface of his mind, a surface that no longer existed. Gabriel Above, in his arms. Naked. Open to him. Emotion clogged up his throat, making him swallow. But then the sensations dissipated, trickling away as if cleansed by the flowing water that poured into the cleaning pools.

  Michael’s eyes narrowed, contemplation taking over his feelings as he absorbed the unexpected information. It couldn’t be. Gabriel and Lucifer. Not after all that had gone on in the Realm of Light before she plunged down to Hell. But as Michael stepped back and saw the seriousness plaguing Remiel’s soft face, he knew there was no denying it.