Sons of Angels (37 page)

Julie opened her fingers again. “It’s like watching a horror movie. I’m terrified but desperate to see what comes out.”

Jasfoup put his arm around her shoulders. “There’s no need to be afraid. This is our child. You must be the first woman ever to watch the birth of her own child.”

“She’s the surrogate mother.” Gillian took a step back. “This is no spawn of hers.”

The gap had widened enough for a tongue to come questing out to taste the air. “It’s got a tongue.” Jasfoup squeezed Julie’s shoulder so hard it popped.

Julie moved her sight marble closer. “Like a snake.”

“With claws?” Felicia was in awe. “I can’t believe I’m witnessing the birth of a dragon.”

“Harold,” Gillian said in a harsh whisper. “Get some meat.”

“You heard her.” Harold nudged Devious. “Get some steak.”

The imp vanished as the tongue was replaced by a pair of claws trying to lever open the shell. “Shall I help it?” Jasfoup leaned forward.

“Yes.” Felicia frowned. “No... In the wild they have to do it on their own. It’s a law of nature.”

“When did you last see a dragon on
Animal Planet
?” Jasfoup pulled the split apart and the dragon fell onto the duvet, its wings creased and folded against its back. Skin damp with albumen glistened under the electric light. The demon reached out to pick him up. “He’s perfect.”

He used a piece of the sheet to clear the slime from the creature. It had a large, pointed head on a scrawny, turkey-like neck on a clumsy, bird-like body. Translucent scales shimmered across its skin, layered like feathers on a chick. Stubby wings flapped uselessly. He went to pass it to Julie, who shrank away.

“Keep that thing away from me. I don’t want anything to do with it.” She turned her face away. “Give it to the angels so they leave us alone.”

“Here’s some meat.” Harold took a bowl of diced steak from Devious. “It must be hungry.”

“Probably.” Jasfoup took one of the chunks and held it in front of the dragon’s face. After a brief pause it snapped at the meat, swallowing it whole and looking for more. Harold placed the bowl in front of it.

“It’s got four legs and two wings.” Felicia’s voice was hushed. “I assumed it would have two and two.”

“Whatever gave you that idea?” Jasfoup smiled as the hatchling took another chunk. “There’s no law against it.”

“There’s nothing in nature that has four and two.”

“There is now.” Harold watched the little creature devour the steak. “Besides, this is nephilim. Angels have four limbs and two wings. Do you think we ought to go around chopping their arms off?” He saw Gillian’s look. “Don’t answer that.”

“Sorry. I just expected it to have two legs, like a Welsh dragon, that’s all.”

As if it could hear them, the dragon stood on its feet and stretched out its wings, pumping blood into them like an insect just out of its pupa. They flexed and stiffened, iridescent when the light caught them.

“How big is it, do you think?”

Harold shrugged. “Two feet, tip to tail?”

“Yes, about that.” Felicia continued to stare at the tiny dragon. “It wasn’t that big a minute ago.”

“It was, surely?” Jasfoup tickled it under the chin. “It can’t possibly have grown in five minutes.”

“It has, I’m telling you.”

The dragon found its shell and began to eat it.

“Whoa!” Harold rushed to rescue the shell. “That’s the only dragon shell in the world. It’ll be worth a small fortune.”

“No, Harold.” Felicia took it off him. “Let him eat it. He obviously needs the minerals. It’s not like anyone would ever believe it was a dragon shell, anyway.”

“I suppose so.” Harold looked on sadly as the pieces vanished into the dragon’s mouth. “He is pretty cute.”

“It still has to be given up.” Gillian scowled at him. “I owe Azazel a favor for this. Technically, it belongs to me.”

“I think you’ll find I gave birth to it.” Julie struggled to sit up. “It’s mine.”

“And mine.” Jasfoup took her hand again. “I’m the daddy.”

“You have to.” Gillian turned to him. “Would you rather give up Julie? Felicia? Harold? When the angels have slaughtered them, they’ll still take the dragon at the end of it.”

“I’ll run away with it.” Jasfoup raised his chin. “I’ll take it to the Summerlands.”

“Where the Fae will slaughter it.” Gillian stepped toward the dragon. “Just after they crucify you to the last burning tree.”

“Somewhere else, then.” Jasfoup shook his head. “Look at him. You can’t sacrifice him for the sake of the nephilim.”

“I can and I will.” Vampire claws slid from her finger sheaths. “Don’t try to stop me, demon.”

“I’m with her.” Jenna stood next to the vampire, turning partially wolf.

“Gillian! Jasfoup!” Harold stood between them. “Fighting amongst ourselves just makes it easier to pick us off.”

“The dragon is mine.” Julie plucked the reptile from the bed, the grimace on her face betraying her loathing. “I shall do with it as I will.”

Chapter 43

An orange light bloomed outside, sending flickering shadows across the room, and leaving ghost images of the window on Felicia’s retinas.

“What the Hell?” Julie pulled the dragon to her chest, its spines and scales still soft enough not to pierce. It dug tiny claws into the flesh of her breast and revealed rows of teeth as it hissed.

Gillian looked out of the leaded panes. “Another freakin’ angel.”

Jasfoup stole a glance. “Raphael.” He hissed, an echo of the dragon. “This is bad.”

Harold edged to the next window and opened it a fraction to shout down to the angel. “Go away. I’ll call the police. Look. I’m calling them.” He held up his mobile and began to punch in numbers, then ducked as another fireball splashed against the house.

A little of the fire blossomed inside, setting light to the Georgian lace net curtains. Harold pulled them down with a shriek, jumping on them to extinguish the flames.

“Give him the child.” Gillian’s voice boomed.

“No.” Julie pulled the hatchling tighter against her chest. “You can’t use that voice on me. I command the dead.”

“Darn it.” Harold snarled as another orange flare lit the room. “That was the potting shed going up. We’ve got to do something.”

“Julie.” Felicia knelt at the side of the bed. “Make me some of those grenades like you did before.”

“Grenades?” Gillian looked doubtful.

“Fetishes. Ice and shadow and fire.” There was a boom as the lawn mower exploded. “Maybe not fire.”

“I’ll try.” Julie tucked the dragon under one arm and held her hand out. She closed her eyes and a ball of whirling energy began to appear in her palm.

“He’s doing something.” Gillian stared out. “He’s holding out his hand.”

Julie screamed. “He’s drawing power through me. I can’t stop him. He’s–”

She slumped to the bed, unconscious, Jasfoup standing over her. “Nerve pinch.” He grinned. “I learned it off the television. I had to break the connection before he pulled something out through her.”

“Where’s the dragon?” Felicia patted the covers. “She was holding it.”

“Damn.” Harold looked around. “We have to find it. That was our ticket out.”

“We have to find it because it’s my son.” Jasfoup’s voice warbled.

More flames blossomed against the windows. “He’s going to set fire to the house at this rate.” Harold growled. “We’ve got to stop him. All the weapons on the walls and not a single sodding gun that works.”

“I’ve still got the fetiche Julie made earlier.” Felicia held up the ring box. “It was supposed to be for Puriel, but it should work against this one just as well.”

“Do it.” Jasfoup looked down at the unconscious woman. “She can make another when we’ve dealt with Raphael.”

“We’ll go out the front.” Gillian pulled three throwing daggers from a sheath on her thigh. “Work our way around to the back and take him by surprise.”

Felicia gulped, tears springing unbidden to her eyes. “You don’t have to. I can do this on my own.”

“And let you have all the glory?” Jenna grinned. “Let’s go.”

They slipped down the back stairs and through the kitchen into the hall, looking through the letterbox to make sure the angel hadn’t come around to cut them off.

The coast clear, they crept into the night. “Good luck.” Gillian pulled Felicia into a full, open-mouthed kiss.

“Last kiss before dying?”

The vampire smiled. “One on account. We’ll talk when this is all over.”

Felicia grinned and nodded, shifting to her partial wolf form to slink along the wall toward the stables while Jenna went the other way and Gillian climbed straight up the wall.

* * * *

The stables were lit by the light from the kitchen window when Felicia entered the yard, her Audi parked next to Harold’s van at angles to the wall. She used their bulk to mask her movement as she worked her way to the back of the house.

She stopped when she got to the back of the van, surprised to see a large motorcycle parked there, its panniers full of weaponry. She spent a few moments going through the contents, half afraid to touch what she recognized as guns and grenades.

When she pulled the sword from its sheath its blade burst into flame. She thrust it back in and remained motionless, afraid the angel had sensed or seen her touching it. When orange light blossomed again at the back of the house, she worked as quickly as she could, unbuckling the sheath from the panniers and slipping it into the boot of her car. An angel’s sword, she hoped, would work against an angel. Her studies of European art told her that much. She was unwilling to wield a weapon she’d only ever seen used in films.

Armed with the fetiche, she crept toward the corner of the house.

“Come on. Come out and be destroyed.” The angel seemed to be enjoying himself immensely, still in mortal form, though his wings were spread out behind him, fanning the fires as they licked at the fabric of the manor. Knowing Harold had shielded the house was comforting, but she wondered how long his spells would hold.

She edged forward, creeping from plant container to picnic table, trying to get close enough to throw the fetiche.

Her movements betrayed her.

“There you are, my pretty one.” Raphael turned on the spot with the beginnings of another ball of flame twisting around his fingers. Like Puriel, he had several pairs of wings fanning from a naked, well-muscled body, and had the face of a choirboy. The flames gave his skin a golden glow, though his eyes glittered like steel ball bearings “Why don’t you come out where I can see you properly?”

Felicia stood, the fetiche in her palm ready to throw. She moved forward, her heart hammering against her ribcage. “Leave them alone. I’m the one you’re after, aren’t I?”

Raphael bowed. “I admire your honor in facing me. That shows true courage.” He smiled. “Not that it does you any good, but I salute you for it. You honor the name of demonspawn.”

“How about making it a fair fight?” Felicia’s fear prompted sudden bravery. “Man to man, as it were.”

“An admirable suggestion.” Raphael’s wings arched high over his head. “But one I must sadly decline. It would be improper to engage in such brutalities.”

“Then go to Hell.” Felicia threw the stone to transport him to the icy circle.

Raphael sidestepped, the fetiche skittering off into the darkness. “Stones will do you no good, though I recognized the stink of the dead upon it. Some sort of spell, I imagine.”

Felicia turned and ran for the house. She managed to pull open the door to the green room before she heard the whoosh of the flames as they left the angel’s hand.

Something kicked her in the back and she fell forward into the room, the door slamming shut behind her. Orange light hit the room, coruscating to blue as she turned to see Jenna writhing in flames.

Then she was gone.

“Jenna!” Felicia rushed to the door but the butch had vanished, reduced to ashes by the celestial fire. Tears fell down her cheeks as she saw the angel laugh and walk forward to check his kill.