His Darkest Salvation (41 page)

The fact that
finally
he didn’t give a damn was liberating.

“The fallen is in there, and so is Cormac. Wait for the others.”

Something inside him broke loose, bringing with it a sense of freedom he’d not felt in ages.

Declan strode past Ana, exhilarated at the thought that his destiny was so close at hand. “Wait for the team, are you crazy?”

Her hand grabbed his arm and yanked hard, stopping him instantly. The petite vampire packed three hundred years of power in her grip. She was strong. He stared down into her eyes. Normally, they were blue but at the moment were solid black balls of fury.

She was pissed. He could see that.

A wicked grin slid across his face, and suddenly he bent low. A gasp escaped from between her lips, and he felt her stiffen beneath his hand, as his mouth grazed her softness. It was nothing more than a whisper of touch. A good-bye.

He lifted his head and removed her hand from his arm. “Crazy doesn’t come close to describing what I am.”

Declan felt her gaze upon his back as he turned from her and strode purposefully toward the room. Energy sizzled against his flesh as his hand fell upon the door. Cormac’s ward was faltering.

His hand tightened upon the handle, and Declan felt it give way as he pushed the door open.

J
axon felt the shift in the air at the same time as Jagger. He frowned and stared into the darkness. They were surrounded by creatures the likes of which he’d never seen before though he’d read reports about them. They were shades, beings that hovered between the living and the dead. Their existence was a permanent state of chaos . . . of pain.

Shades were forever trapped in their own hellish form of purgatory.

Silence filled his ears.  It pressed down upon him, and he stilled. His senses sharpened, and his jaguar stirred, agitated, as the shades slowly evaporated into nothing.

He glanced back at Libby, saw the confusion on her face, and winked at her.  Her eyes widened, and a quick smile claimed her mouth.  She was good. He wished that she was home with Logan, but knew Libby had the skills to take care of herself.

A low-grade keening erupted from the shadows as if the walls themselves were alive. The energy thinned, and he felt it begin to pulsate as the darkness moaned, like the world was tipping, and the edges were ripping away.

And, always, the sound of dripping water echoed in the distance.

Cracker moved in close to his side. The hardened soldier spit on the ground, his movements steady and precise as he did so. He sniffled and smiled fiercely. “The shit’s going to hit the fan any—”

The moaning wavered, amplified into layers, splitting the dark with a hard thrust as the shadows parted violently. Wind came at them from all directions, bringing with it bone-chilling cold.

Jaxon heard Libby gasp as an impressive array of bodies stepped forward, solidifying within seconds. There had to be forty or more demons, and every single one of them began to make a strange series of clicking noises.

Cracker gripped his Glock in his right hand and held his impressive machete in front of him with his left. Jaxon heard him murmur, “Time to rock and roll, boys and girls.”

Jaxon knew they needed to act quickly. Within minutes, the demons would transform into their true selves.

He gritted his teeth, and his eyes flattened into a cold black stare. “Stay safe and shoot to kill. Aim for their heads,” he yelled at his team. He turned quickly to Libby and nailed her with an intense look. “You stay close to me and don’t take any chances. We need to blast a hole through their formation.”

She waved her dagger as she stood loose on the balls of her feet. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll stay close. Someone needs to make sure you don’t get your ass kicked.”

Jaxon arched an eyebrow, his face dark, though his heart swelled at her words. The woman never failed to surprise him.

The clacking reached a crescendo. Jaxon was about to give the order to move out and attack when, suddenly, it stopped. There was no sound other than the steady drip of water and a constant moaning that was slowly fading away.

A roar sliced through night, and his jaguar reacted painfully. At the same moment, one of the demons pitched forward, smoke rising from the back of its head as it fell into a lifeless heap at his feet.

Dark liquid spewed everywhere, and a rancid odor erupted into the air.

“Someone told me there was a party down here. Good to know they were right.” Ethan Crane stood several feet behind the line of demons, at his side was a large black jaguar.
Nico.

Julian was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Declan. Not good.

Ethan snarled, his eyes glowing with a fierce light as he nodded to Jaxon. “Seems a little tame for my liking.”

Jaxon looked to Cracker. “Now.” At the same time, Ethan double-fisted a pair of deadly Glocks and opened fire.

All hell broke loose.

Chapter 30

J
ulian heard the sounds of battle well before they could see anything. He and Jaden slipped between the long rows of shelving as they rushed forward.

The entire building seemed to be moving, as if the earth beneath the concrete was heaving, protesting the darkness that slithered along the surface. The constant cold was relentless, yet his flesh was heated, and mist rose from his skin.

“Holy Christ,” Jaden whispered, and he paused, his eyes following her line of sight. Above them, a thin ribbon of energy pulsated in the air. Its strength fluctuated as it continued to weave amidst the darkness, shimmering one second, dulling to near invisible the next.

“It’s Cormac,” he said.

Jaden nodded in agreement. “I can smell him. His scent is evil.” Her teeth flashed in the gloom, and her breath was ragged. “We need to end this.” She turned to him. “It
has
to end tonight.”

“Agreed.”

She turned to leave, but Julian grabbed her to him, relishing the feel of her heat against his bare chest. There were no words for the intensity of what he was feeling.

He stared down at her, took note of every nuance that made her features unique. Her soft lips parted as agitated breaths escaped . . . the curve of her cheek, the tilt of her nose. She’d brought him a certain peace, and he knew the image of her as she was right now, in his arms, was one he’d carry to the grave.

“Jaden, know that . . .” he began, and faltered.

“It’s okay, Julian,” she whispered.

Loud bursts of gunfire echoed through the dull, thick air. He cupped her chin. “Know that in another lifetime, you would have been all I needed.”

“Why wait for another lifetime? Why can’t we have our happy ending right now?” She was angry, the tone of her words sharp.

He didn’t answer. The joy of the moment was gone, and he turned from her. It could never happen. His deal was done. “Let’s go.”

The pulsing energy above them was like a beacon that cut through the darkness, and he knew they were close. As they neared the target, he glanced back at Jaden and indicated silence.

The air was thick with the smell of death, of demon and of black magick. He caught trace signatures of both Declan and Ana and knew that they were near.

Sporadic bursts of light rippled across the ceiling, casting macabre shadows in their wake. He heard shouts, screams, and moans of pain and rage.

Julian centered himself, and his senses exploded from within, traveling along an invisible conduit as he searched the immediate area for anything that didn’t belong.

The hairs along the back of his neck stood on end, and he snarled softly, relishing the power that flooded his cells as he whirled around, a dagger held in his hand, a vicious growl escaping from between his lips.

There was no need.

Jaden was already wiping the blood that dripped from her knife. The crimson liquid stood sharply against the never-ending dull of gray and black. His eyes settled upon the body on the ground. It lay at a weird angle, and he marveled at the strength of his woman.

It was a young male, and Cormac’s mark was clear against his pale skin. The sorry bastard never had a chance. He was much too young to resist O’Hara’s pull. His lifeless eyes stared up at Julian, and he shook his head.
What a fucking waste.

A fiery scream ripped through the layers of thick air, and his nostrils quivered as the pain continued to pour out into the night. It was a long, drawn-out cry, and it rode the cool thread of air with such sharp madness that he fought the urge to cover his ears.

Jaden took off running before he had a chance to react. He was fast on her heels, adrenaline pumping hard, fueling his muscles into a blur of speed. The two of them covered several hundred yards in seconds. Above them, the gray gave way to light, and suddenly they were in the thick of it.

He saw a large room to the left. The energy thread that hovered overhead surrounded the entire circumference, caressing the walls in a shower of sparks.

Before him was madness.

He pulled up short, his hand on Jaden’s shoulder as they quickly scouted out the scene. The blackness inside of him reveled in the violence in the air, and he felt it expand. All around him was chaos.

His brothers, their women . . . the rest of the team . . . all of them were fighting for their lives. A snarl ripped from his throat as he jumped forward, deep into the fray.

No sense in letting them have all the fun.

“Stay close to me,” he shouted at Jaden, his teeth slashing white as he smiled at her reaction. She flashed him her middle finger before cleanly severing the head of a demon that rushed her from behind.

The woman could clearly look after herself.

“We need to get inside.” His brother Jaxon had his attention, and Julian nodded, slicing his way through the demon wall as he and Jaden fought their way toward the door.

They were the closest.

The demons were desperately trying to prevent them from gaining entrance, yet they were losing the battle. Jaxon and his crew had taken care of all but a few of them. It only confirmed the obvious.

Cormac was inside, and that meant that the fallen was as well.

Jaden leapt over several dead bodies, her gun firing as she did so. Julian followed in her wake, his dagger dripping dark with the foul poison of demon blood as he secured their path.

His chest heaved as he reached the door, and he snarled madly as his fingers gripped the handle. It was painfully hot, a vibrant conduit of energy that shot up his forearm.

His need to get to Azaiel was riding him hard. Everything was so close to being completed.

“Fuck,” he yelled, hissing as he gripped it harder and pushed it open.

Behind him, the noise evaporated into nothing but a mess that was easily ignored. How could it not? The sight before him was sobering.

He felt Jaden at his back, felt her warmth against his skin and the horror in her voice as she ducked around him.

“Oh my God,” she whispered hoarsely.

“God has nothing to do with this.”

An eerie howl whistled through the room, accompanied by a phantom wind that came from nowhere. The corners were in complete darkness, shrouded in mist and fog. The only light was centered in the middle.

Above them, suspended high in the air, was a man, his body bathed in a soft glow that should have been comforting but, instead, was sinister. His arms were spread wide, held aloft by invisible threads as he slowly turned in a circle. His upper body was bare, the lean, muscled lines, however, awash in crimson.

Blood flowed from his hands and dripped from his feet. His head hung low, as if he were unconscious, and as he made a full turn, Julian noticed the large wings that were tattooed upon his shoulders.

His eyes narrowed, and he realized they were not tattoos but an intricate marking that had been carved into his skin with perfect precision.

This was without a doubt Azaiel. The fallen.

The room was encased in iron walls that bled with never-ending water. It was in every miserable corner, the constant cold and wetness.

“Azaiel doesn’t look like he’s loving Vegas so much,” Jaden whispered.

Julian didn’t answer but stepped into the room.

Where the hell were Declan and Ana? He’d expected Cormac to be here as well.

Behind him, all sound ceased. There was no more fighting, no grunts of pain or screams of rage. He glanced back and saw the shock on every single face that filed into the room.

His brothers, their women, Nico, Finn, and Cracker . . . all of them were silent. Ethan Crane seemed a little unsettled at the sight of Azaiel suspended high in the air.

Julian smelled the evil in the air and knew that the shadows hid something dark.

Jagger pushed through and aimed his weapon into the air, but Julian grabbed it. “You will not shoot,” he snapped.

Jagger studied him for several long seconds. “You got a better idea how to get him down from there?”