Authors: Joy Nash
“Keflavik, Iceland, actually. About a half hour north.”
“Do it.”
“Aye-aye.”
Schumaker leaned forward, peering through the glass. He could have sworn he saw a figure bathed in golden light hovering above the cloud cover off the starboard wing. If he were drunk, he’d have called the apparition an angel. But he blinked and it was gone.
“Damn.” He rubbed his eyes. “Must be seeing things.”
“All instruments normal,” Marshall reported. “If you didn’t look so shook up, Brandon, and if my coffee wasn’t all over the cockpit, I’d swear the last thirty seconds was nothing but a nightmare.”
“A nightmare,” Schumaker said. “Followed by a goddamned miracle.”
Raphael circled above the churning surface of the North Atlantic. All was calm as the taillights of the airliner receded.
Of Azazel, there was no sign. The Watcher had escaped to parts unknown. All because Raphael had carelessly allowed their battle to drift too close to a passing jet. Azazel had seen his chance to make mischief and hadn’t hesitated. Raphael had only just managed to right the craft and avoid disaster.
The angel uttered a few decidedly unangelic words. For the second time in as many nights Watcher scum had scored a victory at his expense. First Cade Leucetius. Now this.
Anger burned in his breast. The sensation disturbed him. It had been so long since he’d felt anything like it. Perhaps Michael was right. Perhaps emotion did still exist for angels.
Long ago Raphael had destroyed Lilith’s amulet and cast Azazel into eternal captivity—or so he had thought. In reality, he’d failed. The bloodstone had been split but the power lived on. Now, he was failing again. The amulet remained beyond his grasp, the bloodstone was whole and Azazel was free. God only knew what havoc was about to be unleashed upon an unsuspecting humanity.
Actually, Raphael hoped the Almighty hadn’t yet turned his omniscient mind to the situation. He prayed he could act quickly enough to keep his mistake under wraps until he had a chance to fix it. He knew he could. But perhaps, he was forced to admit, not on his own. Should he call for help? Clearly Gabriel was useless; he was a messenger, and circumstances called for a warrior. It would have to be Michael. But Michael had already refused and it would not be easy to persuade him to change his mind. Unless Raphael could entice him in some way.
Pondering the boon he would have to grant, he set a course for land.
Cade might have called ahead. He might have tried to explain, tried to pave the way for what the clan would surely see as a betrayal. He didn’t. He and Maddie simply opened the door and walked into Artur’s London flat unexpected and unannounced.
Cybele, Brax, and Gareth were present, strung along the sofa cushions watching a BBC report on the stunning destruction of Chartres Cathedral. Artur was nowhere in sight. Of course. When was Artur Camulus ever where he was expected to be? Cade didn’t know whether to be irritated or relieved.
“. . . Eight point two on the Richter scale, in an area not known for severe seismic activity,” a sober blonde female on the telly was saying to the man seated beside her. “A sudden, devastating storm, and bright lights streaking over western France to disappear over the Atlantic. Honestly, George, it’s hard not to lend credence to Reverend Jonas Walker’s claim that the destruction of Chartres Cathedral, one of the greatest medieval Christian monuments of Europe, was due not to natural causes, but was, in fact, a premeditated terrorist act perpetrated by the hybrid human-demon creatures known as Nephilim.”
George’s head bobbed. “Yes, Cynthia, there are many, many people who believe the spin on the disaster put out by the European headquarters of Demon Annihilators Mutual Network. The unidentified headless body pulled from the rubble this morning certainly supports the theory that Nephilim terrorists are involved. DAMN supporters have
taken to the streets in major cities all over the world. Why, here in London alone—”
“Cade!” Cybele spotted him first. Television forgotten, she hurled herself across the room and into his arms. “You’re back!”
He embraced her tightly, briefly, in an entirely brotherly hug, and realized that was how he loved her now—as a brother. “Of course. You weren’t about to get rid of me that easily.”
Brax had also risen, though he hadn’t come forward. He looked past Cade to where Maddie stood on the threshold. “You did it,” he said. “You brought back the slave.”
“No,” Cade said quickly. “Not a slave. Maddie comes to us as a free adept.”
“A free adept!” Brax exploded. His palm slapped the tattoo on his wrist and a deadly dagger appeared in his hand. The pepper scent of wrath assaulted Cade’s nostrils.
“What the hell are you up to, Cade?” he demanded. “You had your orders. Artur told you to bring back a slave. Not a rival.”
“I can explain.”
“I don’t want explanations!”
“Nevertheless, you’ll hear them.” Cade paused. “But first . . . Where’s Artur?”
“Not here,” Brax grunted, weapon still at the ready. “In his absence, I’m in charge.” He eyed Maddie. “What clan is she?”
Cade shifted more fully in front of Maddie and braced himself. “Clan Azazel.”
Cybele sucked in a breath.
Brax swore. “And you’ve brought her into our midst? As a free adept? Are you insane? If you couldn’t enslave her, you were supposed to kill her. Stand aside while I do the job for you.”
Maddie, silent until now, bristled. Blue sparks gathered on her fingertips. “I’d like to see you try.”
Cade sent her a quelling look. Blast it all to Oblivion. This sort of Watcher posturing was just what Cade didn’t need. All he needed was a formal challenge spoken and someone would end up dead.
He turned to Brax with raised palms. “Calm down. This is not what you think. Maddie is no threat to Clan Samyaza.”
“No threat? Impossible.”
Cade sent a beseeching look toward Cybele. Gareth had come to stand at her side. “Help me out here, please.”
“Brax, wait a—” Cybele began.
Brax’s knife point didn’t waver. “This woman is our enemy, Cybele.”
“And Cade is our kin! We owe it to him to hear him out.”
“Thank you,” Cade told her.
For a long moment, no one moved. Then, grimacing, Brax lowered his blade a fraction. He didn’t, however, let it fade into a tattoo.
“All right,” he said. “Cade, start talking. But this woman is Dusek’s kin. I can’t imagine what you’re going to say that will change my mind about killing her.”
Cade took Maddie’s arm and drew her forward. “This is Maddie Durant.”
“I know who she is,” Brax said irritably. “I found her, remember?”
Cade nodded. “For that, I’ll be forever in your debt. Maddie may be Dusek’s kin—
distant
kin—but she has good reason to hate him. Her ancestor, Azazel’s daughter, killed her brother, Dusek’s forefather, after he tried to rape her. Maddie rejects her connection with Dusek. She’s willing to freely pledge her loyalty—and her magic—to Clan Samyaza.”
Brax frowned. “Even if she hates Dusek, why should she wish to align herself with us? She’s not of our blood.”
Cade held Brax’s gaze. “I’ll begin with the end. Maddie offered her life to save mine. She did it freely, and at great
risk to herself. She’s the reason I’m standing here now.” He drew a breath. “The reason she’s here with me is because we’re bonded mates.”
Cybele’s brows shot up. Brax stared.
Gareth found his voice first. “But that’s . . . impossible. Isn’t it? Rivals can only be slaves. Not bond mates. Because of the curse.”
“That was what you were taught, Gareth,” Cade said. “What all Watchers have been taught for millennia. But Maddie and I are proof there’s something wrong with that belief. We’ve mated as true equals. I’m not sure, but I think we were able to do it because our love and trust transcends the curse. And as my free mate, Maddie offers her power—Clan Azazel power—to our cause. It’s power we desperately need to survive.”
“How can we be sure this isn’t a trick?” Brax said. “A ploy to move freely in our midst?”
“It’s not,” Cade said flatly.
Maddie stepped forward. “I’m ready to pledge my life to your clan. To use my magic in support of your cause, and against Dusek. If I break my vow, you are welcome to kill me.”
“But Artur—” Brax began.
Cybele cut in. “Oh, stuff it, Brax. The great and powerful Artur Camulus isn’t here, is he? And, as you pointed out, he’s left you leader in his absence. So lead already.”
“Maddie and I await your decision,” Cade said.
Brax scowled. “It’s not that simple. Blast it, Cade. Your mate? She offers her magic? If you’d done your job correctly, her magic would be ours already.”
“I chose not to enslave Maddie. I couldn’t. I love her.”
“Love.” Brax snorted. “Brilliant. When Artur learns of it, he’s going to explode.”
“Forget about Artur,” Cybele said. “Make your decision.”
“Seems you’re trying to make it for me,” Brax said. Stepping around Cade, he addressed Maddie directly. “You can’t
deny that you share Dusek’s blood, however estranged your ancestors were. Why should I believe you want to help your natural rivals? How do I know you aren’t plotting to betray us all?”
“Because I love Cade,” Maddie said. “You’ll realize soon enough how true that is. You heard him. I could have let him die. I didn’t. I saved his life. Because he
is
my life. His family is my family now. I know what Dusek did to your clan. I know he’s vowed to send the rest of you, including Cade, to Oblivion. Believe me, I want to stop that from happening as much as you do.”
She offered an upturned palm. “I pledge my fealty to Clan Samyaza. For now and for the rest of my life. Please, Brax. Will you accept me? For Cade’s sake if not for mine?”
Brax glanced at Cybele, who stared back at him steadily. Then he sighed and lowered his blade. His right hand passed over his left, and the stiletto melted back onto his wrist. “I may be in charge in Artur’s absence, but this situation is beyond my authority. Your pledge will have to wait for Artur’s return. But, all right. Until my brother shows up, you can stay.”
The tension drained from Cade’s shoulders. “Thank you. I know this request puts you in a difficult position. I appreciate your good faith.”
“I only hope I don’t regret it when Artur walks in that door,” Brax said. “The last thing we need is a divided clan.”
“That’s the last thing Artur wants, too,” Cybele told him. She smiled at Cade, and he saw relief in her eyes, and gratitude. Maddie’s presence lifted a burden of guilt from her shoulders, he realized.
“I’m so glad you’ve found a bond mate,” she said. Turning to Maddie, she offered her left hand, palm up. “Welcome, sister.”
Maddie placed her left hand, palm down, atop Cybele’s offer
of peace, and she uttered the reply Cade had taught her. “You honor me, sister.”
Tentatively, Gareth also offered the ritual Druid greeting. Brax, still frowning, did not.
Cade didn’t press the point. “Where is Artur, anyway?” he asked.
Cybele and Brax exchanged glances. It was Cybele who answered. “Prague.”
Cade’s brows rose. “He’s gone to confront Dusek?”
“To gather information,” Brax clarified. “At least, I hope that’s all the blasted fool is doing.”
The group fell silent, and the television became audible. They turned as one to the screen. An aerial pan of Chartres Cathedral showed the great monument cleaved in two as if by a giant ax. An announcer was quoting estimated damages in excess of five hundred billion pounds. But they all knew no amount of money could re-create what had been destroyed.
“They’re blaming the disaster on Nephilim, of course,” Brax said.
“That’s not far off the mark,” Cade said.
Brax turned. “You two know something about this?”
“We were there,” Maddie told him.
“Blast it all to Oblivion,” Brax muttered. “I’m not going to like what you’re about to tell me, am I?”
“No,” Cade said. “Definitely not.”
There was wailing and gnashing of teeth. There were prayers begging mercy and promising repentance. There were also police, engineers, and reporters intent on their roles in the unfolding drama. And there was a swarming mob of demon annihilators, garbed in red and desert camo, shouting their outrage.
“Death to the Nephilim! Annihilation to demonkind!”
Behind it all rose the ruined shell of a once-great cathedral.
No one noticed the black-cloaked figure as it passed through the lines of demonstrators and supplicants, nor as it skirted the piled rubble and passed through the shattered portals of the condemned building. Vaclav Dusek touched the edge of the pit, and stared into the events of the near past.
Ah,
he thought as the vision faded.
The game continues.
Perhaps life was worth living after all.
“Cade’s done
what
?”
Artur couldn’t believe his ears. Brax had rung just as Artur had arrived at the rubble pile that had once been Chartres Cathedral. He stared at the destruction, cell pressed to his ear, and listened with growing amazement as his half brother filled him in on recent happenings.
“And now,” Artur said when Brax had finished, “this Clan
Azazel female—Cade’s bloody bond mate, no less—wants to pledge her loyalty to me and Clan Samyaza?”
“That about wraps it up.”
Artur could not remember a time he’d ever been so stunned. “Blast it. I should kill Leucetius for abandoning my orders so spectacularly.”
“You’d be well within your rights to do just that,” Brax agreed. “But I’m telling you, Cybele would go ballistic if you did. She and Maddie are already thick as thieves, and Gareth is taken by her as well. Execute Cade and enslave Maddie, and we’re going to have a full-out rebellion on our hands. And that’s the last thing we need right now.”
“True enough,” Artur conceded. He had to admit, this unexpected turn of events—especially the bit about the ancient Clan Azazel relic—could translate into myriad possibilities. His mind raced down a thousand potential paths, when just the day before he’d been banging his head against a dead end.
He could almost applaud Cade’s creativity in finding a way around the orders he’d received. In private, of course. Artur certainly didn’t need the whole bloody clan thinking they could go off half-cocked any chance they got. He’d have to devise some suitable penalty for the disobedience, or his authority would be shot to hell.