Death's Angel: A Novel of the Lost Angels (27 page)

Azrael had always had control over his world and those around him. But Sophie Bryce was changing him to his core. He had to regain the control she was making him lose and he had to do it
now
.

With great effort, he pulled his teeth from her neck. She shuddered against him, and he absorbed the emotion as he looked into her eyes. They were heavy-lidded and glassy with lust; the scent of her desire teased and tempted him. If he so chose, he could lay her down right here on the floor of her destroyed apartment and have the rest of her.

But that wasn’t the point of all of this. It wasn’t why he had bitten her.

Was it?

He needed to get her out of here, away from people that her immense power could harm, away from the prying eyes of whatever monsters Gregori had lurking around. Az had managed to take the fight out of her, but how long would that last? Even now, he heard the rumble of thunder that threatened to become more. He heard the first few drops of rain hit the roof above them as Sophie’s storm finally broke open and wept.

And as it did, he watched a single tear loose itself from Sophie’s golden orb to trickle down her perfect cheek.

Azrael’s vision shifted into normal hues, his gut clenched, and his chest felt strange. Slowly, tenderly, he lowered his lips to her cheek and tasted the salt of her pain. As he did, he closed his eyes and reined in his monster. Sophie’s soul was in turmoil. The world made no sense to her just then. She would never admit it to him, not here and now, under the spell of the anger and regret she had moving through her, but she needed her archangel as much as he needed his archess.

“Hold tight to me,” he whispered to her.

Maybe it was instinct, maybe it was need. But whatever it was, Sophie responded by ducking her head against him and wrapping her arms as tightly as she could around his chest.

Azrael glanced up and then shot through the ceiling, shielding Sophie’s body as he went. The plaster, beams, and insulation shredded around him, fanning out in every direction like shrapnel from a grenade. He took them high, moving so fast that no human eye could have noticed the figures blurring through the night sky.

And Sophie, safe in his grip, made not a sound.

Chapter Twenty-eight

M
itchell watched his general move slowly through the strange field of black dandelions in the old prison yard. Kevin had changed a lot since he and the other Adarians had been cast to Earth. The twelve of them had once been a tight band, brothers in purpose and creation, bound by what they were and what they’d gone through. Now only a handful of them remained. It had all happened so quickly.

And Mitchell couldn’t help but wonder how much of it was Kevin’s fault.

Going after Eleanore Granger was one thing. She’d been the first being they had come across who possessed the ability to heal, a gift they’d desperately yerned for. Eleanore was not only blessed with the very power that the Adarians needed, she was also astonishingly beautiful. That Kevin had fallen in love with her was something Mitchell could wholeheartedly understand. Their consequential hunt for the woman across the span of more than a decade was a mere drop in the bucket of time for them and well worth the possible rewards.

However, once they’d found her and faced off against the Four Favored archangels, things had taken a turn for the worse for the Adarians. After their initial battle several months ago, everything had changed.

Kevin Trenton had always been a good leader. He’d always had a plan that favored the Adarians, kept them alive, and furthered their purpose. Kevin was a charismatic man, and Mitchell and the others had followed him blindly, knowing deep down that Kevin would do what was best for them all. And that was why when the general suggested that Mitchell attempt to become a vampire himself by draining a mortal of all of his blood and ingesting it, Mitchell was able to see the benefit of such a plan. As a vampire, he would be able to heal—hence, no more need for the archesses’ powers. As a vampire, he would be able to move through the shadows, fly, and read people’s minds. He would become stronger and faster and, for an Adarian, that was incredibly impressive. The benefits seemed to outweigh the drawbacks—that he would have to feed on a regular basis and that he would never again see sunlight. He’d never been overly fond of the sun anyway.

But now there were only four Adarians remaining out of the original dozen. And those four were vampires. They were stronger, yes. But they were mere shades of the angels they’d once been, relegated to the darkness and the shadows, so far from the grace of the one who had created them that Mitchell had the disquieting sensation that he’d never been created in the first place.

It was with a sinking feeling in his gut and a cold numbness in his soul that Mitchell had this one thought:
This has gone too far.

He watched his leader stride over the field of unearthly black dandelions, his once intelligent blue eyes glowing red, and Mitchell knew—he simply knew—that Abraxos was no more. The man he’d once been had been lost somewhere. There was a madness to Kevin now that threatened them all.

Mitchell had been a fool to let it go as far as it had. They were in over their heads. Seven Adarians were dead. One—Daniel—had gone missing. How many needed to be lost before the rest learned their lesson?

Mitchell felt shockingly stupid in that moment. The universe had been screaming at him, insistent in its plan, and he’d all but turned a deaf ear to its warnings. Adam’s death—the mutilation of him and his companions—it hadn’t been the archangels’ doing. These dandelions were a sign. Nothing here was right; the entire island smelled of evil. The Four Favored were a thorn in every Adarian’s side. But they weren’t evil.

Something more was going on here, and Mitchell’s instincts were telling him to get out now. Before it was too late altogether.

“It wasn’t them,” he said softly, his eyes fixed on the lone figure of his leader.

There was a moment of silence in which no one said anything. And then Luke moved beside him, glancing once over his shoulder at the exit they’d come through. “No,” Luke said. “I agree.”

Ely sighed wearily. Mitchell and Luke both regarded the large black man with expectation. His glowing eyes were focused on Kevin and the eerie field of black he moved through. His expression was one of deep sadness and hard resolve. But he said nothing. Before Ely had become a vampire, Mitchell would have been able to read his mind. But now Mitchell was relegated to the thoughts of mortals; vampire minds were too difficult to traverse.

And then Mitchell sensed a change in the air. He looked back at Kevin, who had stopped in the field, his back to his men. He wasn’t moving. He simply stood there, tall and dark and filled with something both unknown and powerful.

As if he was waiting for something. Or listening for something.

Mitchell frowned and descended the steps to join him. The others followed. When they were right behind him, Kevin asked, “Mitchell, Luke, I’ll need your blood again. We’re going after them.”

Mitchell’s stomach clenched. He glanced at Luke and noticed that the blood had drained from Luke’s face. As Adarians, Mitchell possessed the ability to read minds and Luke had the power to enter people’s dreams. When their blood was combined, it produced new abilities, among them the power to scry a being’s whereabouts.

It was how Kevin had located Sophie Bryce the first few times. Clearly the general wasn’t ready to give up.

It’s now or never
,
Mitchell thought. He’d been blind until now. If he continued to hold his tongue, he wouldn’t be blind. He would be a coward.

“No,” he said. His heart hammered and blood rushed through his ears. He went on, though the next two words out of his mouth were the hardest he had ever uttered. “We’re not.”

Mitchell felt the world come to a stop beneath him. It simply ceased to spin. The air froze, each molecule petrified in place. Watches everywhere slowed down.

And then Kevin turned around, just as slowly, and Mitchell felt the wall of his power turn with him. It enveloped Mitchell like a blanket of electrons, filling him with dread.

“Is there something you’d like to share with the rest of the class, Morael?” Kevin asked, using Mitchell’s original name. “Such as the fact that you believe this has gone too far? That the murders of our brothers were not performed at the hands of the Four Favored?” His voice was soft—
too
soft.

Kevin took a step forward, closing the distance between them and entrapping Mitchell in a space without air. He seemed to be pulling his words directly from Mitchell’s mind—and it hit Mitchell that possibly Kevin was capable of doing just such a thing.

“Or maybe you’d like to give voice to your notions of my madness. Please,” he said, cocking his head to one side, “do expand upon your theory that the deaths of our brethren are my fault.”

Mitchell’s world was turned on its side. Every single thing he had been thinking for the last few minutes, Kevin had heard. He’d been in his mind, and Mitchell hadn’t even felt it. For a man who had spent centuries reading the minds of others, Mitchell was particularly not adept at noticing when such a thing was being done to him instead.

He expected it to end then. He would put up a fight of course, but Kevin was the stronger, and he had no misconceptions about who would win in the end. It was a cold, hard sensation to know that the life you’d grown accustomed to for the past several thousand years was about to come to an end in one form or another. Either he was going to die or he was going to live and everything he had ever known would change.

He would no longer be a part of the Adarian family, what there was left of it anyway. He would no longer be led by a man he trusted. He would no longer be that man’s confidant and friend. He was going to lose all that he was and all he had ever been.

Right here, right now.

But then Kevin straightened, and the lines in his forehead drew together. Suddenly, unexpectedly, the Adarian leader looked
surprised
. He took a step back from Mitchell and turned his glowing blue gaze upon Luke beside him.

“Et tu, Brute?”
Kevin asked softly. He looked less sure than he had a moment ago. Less angry and more hurt.

A second later, his eyes widened, just a little—and he turned his gaze upon Ely. Ely immediately blinked and tried to look away, but it was as if Kevin’s eyes were gravitational, and Ely was once more locking gazes with the general. “
You
, Ely?” Kevin shook his head, his expression bewildered. “Of all people.”

Ely licked his lips and rolled his shoulders. “Adam is dead,” he said. “Raze, Thane, Paul . . .” The large Adarian shook his head, his amber eyes flashing. “We’ve lost almost everyone. This has to stop now. You have gone too far. There’s nothing left.”

Kevin stared at him for a very long time. Even the seagulls were silent, and the waves that should have hit the shore decided to stay out at sea.

“Very well,” said Kevin finally. He looked from Ely to Luke and then to Mitchell. There was something strange in his blue-eyed gaze. “I’m sorry to learn you all feel that way.”

Mitchell watched as his leader turned away from them then. He watched as Kevin moved back out across the field of black dandelions, nothing but the faint beams from the dim, cloud-covered moon to light his way. But Mitchell knew it wasn’t over. There was not a snowball’s chance in hell that it was over. He knew damn well what was coming—he could have timed it to the very second.

This was how it had to be. This was what it had come to. They had started with twelve brothers and one leader; and in the end, they were just three brothers and one madman. It was the end of their era, the epilogue to their tale.

So when Kevin suddenly spun, blurring with inhuman speed, and his power fanned out in the mother of all offensive attacks, Mitchell was ready for him. And so were Luke and Ely.

Because they knew it too.

* * *

My heart isn’t beating.

It was a strange thought to wake up to, but it was the first thing he noticed. Kevin had always been one of those people who could feel their own heart beating. It throbbed through his temples and the insides of his arms and the backs of his knees. His pulse was a constant companion—there, but dull and in the background. It was a gentle and welcome reminder that he was alive.

But now there was nothing flowing through the insides of his arms. There was no taut pull through the artery in his neck, no comforting
thud
deep within his chest. His heart wasn’t beating.

How can this be?
How could he be thinking? How could he feel the damp dandelions beneath him and hear the seagulls on the island if he was dead?

Kevin opened his eyes, utterly baffled as to how he was able to do so. The horizontal plane of the ground beneath his head slowly came into focus. As it did, he found himself staring at a pair of shining black dress shoes and the perfectly cuffed hem of dark suit pants.

“Welcome back,” came a stranger’s voice.

Kevin frowned and slowly pushed himself up. His body felt light and that confused him. He felt as though he should be stiff, seized by something like rigor mortis. But everything moved as he wanted it to and there was no pain.

As he got to his feet, he took in the figure before him. The man was of average height and average build, not pudgy but not overly cut or thin. His brown hair was thinning on top, and his blue eyes were without any special vibrancy. Yet there was a feel to the man’s aura that struck Kevin right off the bat. It made no sense, but Kevin knew that he would be dead if not for this man. He knew it without needing to be told.

“Make no mistake, general,” said the man, his lips turned up in the slightest of smiles. “You are very much dead.”

It would have been a chilling thing for most people to hear. It not only meant that the man was reading Kevin’s mind—which no one had ever been able to do—but it also meant that Kevin was right. He was dead. But for some reason Kevin felt next to nothing, and he certainly felt no fear.

“You have no reason to fear anything any longer,” said the man. “You have nothing left to lose. And that’s why you are not afraid.”

“Why did you bring me back?” asked Kevin. It seemed the only reasonable thing to ask at that point. Most of his brothers had been murdered over the last several months, the Four Favored were undefeated and claiming their archesses, and the only three other Adarians left in the world had turned on him and killed him. And yet all he could seem to care about was why this stranger had animated his dead corpse. “And will I start rotting now?” he asked, almost as an afterthought.

The man’s brow lifted and his look became both incredulous and very serious. “No,” he said firmly. “It wasn’t I who animated you, but my employer. And of course you won’t rot. He doesn’t make such messy mistakes.” Then the man clasped his hands behind his back and moved around Kevin, his gaze on the ground and its black dandelions, and then on the bay and the city that sparkled beyond. The storm had passed, Kevin noticed. Offhandedly, he wondered where the archess who had caused it was.

“He brought you back because there is about to be a war, general. A culmination, if you will.” The man in the suit stopped and looked at Kevin once more, pinning him with his beady eyes. “He is going to need someone experienced to lead his army, and he believes you are the right man for the job.”

Kevin considered this, realizing at once that there was nothing to consider. And then, as if it had been sitting on his tongue for thousands of years, simply waiting to be said, Kevin replied, “I am his to command.”