Blood Redemption (Angel's Edge #3) (11 page)

His leather-clad shoulder. My head snapped up in shock; he was wearing battle armor. Since he’d insisted I put his own jacket on just before I was kidnapped, I hadn’t expected him to be wearing one. “That jacket…” I whispered hoarsely as sounds of fighting resounded across the clearing and echoed through the forest at our backs. “How did you get it back?”

“I didn’t,” he said grimly, turning the both of us so we could watch the fight. “It came with the sword.”

That’s when I noticed. Ethan held Jack’s lost sword loosely in his free hand. It was long and silver with a slightly curved blade. It shone in the moonlight, and the surface resembled crushed diamonds more than steel. I knew only two other pieces of metal like that: my twin daggers, given to me by Asheroth, which could cut through anything, even a Fallen angel’s heart.

Ethan would be able to use it against any angel, Fallen or not. It would cut through their impenetrable skin as easily as chopping vegetables; with the armor and the sword, even my mortal Ethan was a force to be reckoned with.

“Does Asheroth know?” I asked, indicating the sword.

“He knows. He’s not happy, but he knows. Even he agrees it’s useful, although he refuses to touch it.” I couldn’t say that I blamed him. I wouldn’t want to touch the only weapon that could cut out my heart either.

Except it wasn’t the only weapon; I had a pair of daggers that did the same thing. They’d been taken from me sometime after I entered the Twilight Kingdom, and it was anyone’s guess where they were now.

The clearing seemed very far away; I wanted to stay at the edge of it, hidden by trees, with Ethan, but the sounds from the fighting were getting more desperate. Asheroth wasn’t faring well. Even though my Shadows had done their part to hurt Belial and make him let me go, they appeared to have faded entirely away. Asheroth lay pinned underneath him, twisting to avoid a hailstorm of blows raining down on his chest. His red leather protected him from the worst of it, but when Belial punched his jaw, his head rocked back with titanic force. Even Asheroth wouldn’t be able to withstand much more.

That’s when Ethan stepped into the light. Holding the sword before him with one hand and me with the other, he stalked closer to the fighting. At the first sight of Ethan, Belial abruptly ended his assault and turned his entire attention to us.

“What a pretty toy,” he said, letting go of Asheroth entirely.

“Azazel’s blade is more than a toy,” Ethan practically spat at him. “Come closer and let me show you what it can do.”

Belial’s face twisted into a snarl. “Don’t think you can hide behind that forever,
brother
.” He said this last word as if it were the worst curse he knew. “I brought her here, and I can take her back whenever I want.”

“Not in this lifetime,” Ethan said softly, Azazel’s blade extended before him. He gently pushed me away and into Asheroth’s waiting stone arms. I didn’t want to let go, and I scrabbled uselessly at Asheroth’s leather jacket, trying to get back to the man I loved.

“Stop it,” Asheroth ordered tersely. His hold on me got tighter. I stilled myself to watch the unfolding drama.

Belial sneered. “I know all about you and your new mortality. The girl couldn’t wait to tell me.” He rose from his crouch so that he stood facing Ethan. The similarities were eerie; it was like looking into a mirror twisted by hate. There was one glaring difference, though; Ethan’s eyes grew brighter and brighter as they faced off while Belial’s seemed to absorb all light like a black hole.

“Stay away from her,” Ethan ordered.

“As you stayed away from my wife all those years ago?” Belial’s words were deceptively soft.

“That’s not what happened,” Ethan refused to be baited. “I never killed…”

Ethan didn’t get to finish his sentence before Belial charged him. I watched as Ethan sunk Azazel’s blade deep into his mirror image’s side. On a mortal, it would have been a killing blow. To Belial, it was merely crippling. He fell, mid rush; a viscous dark liquid seeped from him, just as it had when my Shadows attacked him. He clutched his side in amazement, and for a moment, something like fear flit across his face. Then he was standing, holding the wound with one hand while what must have been angel’s blood seeped through his fingers.

“I will kill you,” Belial said, slowly as if he wasn’t bleeding copiously right in front of us. He spoke softly, almost conversationally as if he had all the time in the world. “I will kill you, and Caspia, and all you hold dear until all trace and memory of you has been wiped from the face of the earth.” He spared a glance for me. “Don’t think this is over,” he said, more harshly.

I winced; it was a tone that promised destruction and hate and other dark things.

“I took you once. I can do it again.”

Abyss wings sprang into life behind his back, taller than any I’d ever seen before. The chill otherworldliness of a forming portal rushed over me, and before I could blink, Belial was gone, leaving a pool of dark liquid where he had been.

he moon had been full when I was taken. Now it was a half orb of brilliant light. That meant at least two weeks had passed here while I was in the Twilight Kingdom. The night air was cool, and smelled incredibly fresh. It was a welcome change after the dank indoors and heavy stone corridors. I took huge, deep breaths that smelled of pine and water. Somewhere beyond the tree line the St. Clare River rushed on, its muted roar a comforting backdrop to the sounds of night in the South: the swelling song of crickets and cicadas, an owl in the distance, leaves moving through wind.

I hadn’t known demons could bleed. I had seen Ethan fight for me before, and take some pretty hard blows, but never had I seen an angel, Fallen or otherwise, actually bleed. When I had cut Asheroth with my daggers, I’d sliced through his armor first, leaving little more than a scratch on his skin. But I’d cut Belial deep. I kept seeing the same horrible image again and again: the blade sliding into Belial’s side, and the way his smooth marble skin had ruptured, leaking thick, black ichor.

But I had more important things to think about at the moment.

I was home. Belial was gone. And Asheroth was still holding on to one of my arms.

There was no reason for him to hold me back anymore. My self-appointed guardian must have realized this when I did because he made no move to stop me when I shook him off and took two hesitant steps toward the man I loved.

Ethan came to the same realization because he dropped the sword to the ground with a clatter and turned to face me, an expression on his face as full of wonder as it was of disbelief. “Is it really you?” he said faintly.

We closed the distance between us. He slid his strong hand down my forearm where his thumb brushed over the silver wire of his bracelet and began to trace small circles against my pulse. “Are you really here?” His river-bright eyes were full of fear and hope, flecks of green and blue at war with themselves.

I wasn’t sure I believed it myself. “I think so,” I answered hesitantly. I had been stuck for what seemed like forever in Belial’s kingdom and now I was free. Even if home now consisted of Asheroth’s compound instead of my cozy apartment overlooking Old Town Square, it didn’t really matter. I belonged with Ethan, and he with me. Everything else was secondary.

I didn’t get very far in my musings before Ethan took me by the other forearm and held me at arm’s length. I wanted to melt into his arms, but he wouldn’t let me. He seemed determined to check me for damage first. I was acutely conscious of my appearance: wild-haired and wearing the tattered shreds of what had already been a revealing evening gown. I felt exposed and strangely shy. He looked me over from head to toe, chewing on a corner of his lip in concern. “Did he… are you…” He swallowed hard, like he really didn’t want to ask the question, but had to. “Did he hurt you?”

I thought of the blow to my head when I first arrived in Belial’s realm. I thought of the way my hand had crumpled like glass when I punched him. I thought of these things and looked at the worry in Ethan’s eyes, and gave him my bravest small smile. “It doesn’t matter. I’m okay now,” I offered, which was as close to the truth as I wanted to get at the moment. Later there would be time to fill him in on all the details of my stay in the Twilight Kingdom. I knew telling him right now would upset him, and I didn’t want my Ethan any more upset.

I wanted him in my arms.

Ethan let out a pent up sigh of long held frustration, and pulled me into a gentle embrace. “I can tell when you’re lying, you know.” He whispered into my hair.

“I’m not lying,” I protested. “I’m fine now. Totally and completely well. Better than fine, actually, because I’m here.” I wove my fingers together until they rested in the small of his back, pulling him tightly toward me. “With you.”

Behind us, Asheroth snorted. I ignored him. When Ethan ran his fingers up my neck, I forgot all about my guardian. Everything melted away until there was nothing but us: no demon blood, no mad Fallen angels, no broken wards. There was nothing but Ethan’s hand cupping the back of my neck, bringing my head down until I could feel his breath on my cheek. Then our lips touched, and the world around me exploded into fire.

Soft and gently urgent, I kissed him back. My senses were filled with nothing but Ethan: his scent of citrus and the fresh green of growing things; the soft warmth of his skin; the tender, but protective way he held me; the faintest hint of stubble on the skin under my palms. I cradled his face in my palms, deepening the kiss. It became something larger than both of us. Hungry and needy, it was as if we were trying to pour all the time apart into one desperate action. He pulled me flush against his warm, solid body. A little cry escaped me; it had been so, so long. Because of the time difference in the Twilight Kingdom, it had been even longer for him, and he clutched me to him as if to negate this fact.

As our breathing grew ragged and the kisses more desperate, cold stone fingers descended on my shoulder. I tried to shake them off. After all, I had more important things going on here. But the hand refused to move. It shook me gently, loosening Ethan’s tight hold on me, and I wanted to shout in frustration. Couldn’t he leave us alone for one measly minute?