Chapter Five
Ezekiel helped Archer off the motorcycle in the lot behind the cathedral. He held on tightly to Archer’s arm as he did a brief visual check of their surroundings. While he would sense if danger were near, nothing could be left to chance. They were at a critical juncture where the relic was out in the open, and they were tasked with its protection without reinforcements. If a shadow gargoyle were to swoop in, they could be annihilated and the relic stolen before he had a chance to send for backup telepathically.
Satisfied for the moment, Ezekiel noticed how Archer had relaxed into his touch, no longer bristling at the contact. Archer leaned against him, as if seeking comfort.
“Is it safe out here in the open like this?”
Archer clutched the box to his chest beneath his jacket, his eyes darting around the area.
Ezekiel wrapped his arm around Archer and tugged him close. “For now. I need to get you into the lair, which won’t be as simple as you might imagine.”
“Don’t we just need to get inside the cathedral and we’ll be safe? Like what’s her face in Hunchback of Notre Dame?”
Ezekiel chuckled despite their circumstances. “Esmeralda. One of my favorite stories. Safer, but not impervious. I’m afraid it’s not that simple. The shadow gargoyles can definitely breach the cathedral and lair. But at least when we’re inside, we have the advantage of barriers and my fellow Slayers.”
“Then let’s go already.”
Archer shuddered. “I’ve never been so on edge in my life.”
Ezekiel kept his palm at the small of Archer’s back. “It’s still daylight, dearest. I can’t fly you to the secret entrance on the roof, and we can’t march into the church and duck behind the altar where another entrance to the lair is located.”
Archer’s brow creased, and he wrapped both arms around the box still hidden beneath his jacket. “Can we at least hover at the top of the steps by the front door?”
Ezekiel let his eyes drift closed as a message drifted to him from Malachi. “All right, we’re good to go inside. We’ll remain in the front until the priest who works with our faction greets us.”
“Seriously?”
Archer shook his head. “Okay. Still not sure how all this works, but I’ll follow your lead.”
Ezekiel smiled as he led Archer to the front. “I promise not to steer you wrong. At every lair location, we work with an earthly spiritual leader to help facilitate our ability to come and go.”
As they made their way up the steps, Archer appeared lost in thought. When they reached the top, he paused, regarding Ezkiel with a frown.
“I have to say, I’m amazed by how intricate your world is, how all this has been going on under humanity’s noses this entire time.”
Ezekiel opened the enormous, wooden arched door for Archer, gesturing for him to go first. “We’ve had centuries to perfect our methods.”
Archer opened his mouth like he was going to respond, then snapped it shut. Ezekiel imagined that with each supernatural revelation, the more the scientifically educated man would question his previous understanding of reality.
The elderly priest silently guided them to the alter, the main section of the church empty of worshipers.
“We have a mass this evening,”
the priest whispered to Ezekiel. “But Malachi warned me earlier that you would need access to the lair this afternoon.”
He gave Archer a quick glance. “Is he…?”
Ezekiel nodded. “Nephilim.”
Archer cleared his throat loudly. “I’m standing right here.”
The priest clasped his hands together and made a slight bow.”Forgive me. I have never met one of the ancient races before.”
Archer’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh. I…”
A flush bloomed in his cheeks. “That’s okay. I’m a bit shocked myself.”
After thanking the priest, Ezekiel ducked behind the false door next to the altar, then lifted the rug, concealing a trap door. He grasped the iron ring and heaved, revealing a stone staircase that spiraled down into darkness. He motioned for Archer to follow, and they descended the narrow stone staircase into the dimly lit passageway below. The air grew cooler and damper as they climbed further down, the sounds from above fading away.
Archer stumbled on the uneven steps, his breath quickening. "It's so dark down here. How far does this go?"
Ezekiel reached back to steady him. "Not much farther.”
Once they reached the bottom, a shimmering barrier of light appeared between them and the door to the thick, iron reinforced door to the lair, the golden glow pulsing with ethereal energy. Ezekiel pressed his palm to it, causing the barrier to ripple and part like a curtain.
Archer gasped. “Whoa. What was that?”
"Angel wards," Ezekiel explained. "An extra layer of security. We’ve been adding them whenever an archangel is present. We had a nasty incident a while back at our Los Angeles location. Unfortunately, a traitor allowed a faction of shadow gargoyles to attack the lair, and we almost lost a pregnant Nephilim.”
“Damn,”
Archer breathed. “I hope she and the baby are okay.”
Ezekiel froze. Shit. Being so out of touch with earthly concerns, existing in the realm of healing his fellow Slayers for so long, had left him woefully unprepared to properly introduce Archer into his new world. However, now wasn’t the time. They had to get the relic to Michael first.
“Umm…everything turned out fine for them, yes.”
Archer regarded him with suspicion. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“I assure you. They’re safe and unharmed. We can discuss details later.”
Ezekiel clanged the iron door knocker against the thick door. “We must get the relic inside where it’s protected.”
Archer nodded, his grip tightening on the box beneath his jacket. “Right, priorities. But don't think I'm letting this go.”
The heavy door creaked open, revealing a cavernous chamber bathed in soft, golden light. Ezekiel ushered Archer inside, his hand still protectively at the small of the doctor's back. As they entered, several figures emerged from the shadows, their faces a mix of curiosity and wariness.
“Welcome back, Ezekiel,”
a tall, broad-shouldered man with piercing blue eyes stepped forward. “Glad you both made it here safely.”
“Malachi,”
Ezekiel smiled in greeting. “This is Dr. Archer Blackwood. He's... well, he's more than just the key to finding the relic.”
The corner of Malachi’s mouth quirked in a smile. “So I’ve heard. Congrats on finding more than one treasure today.”
His gaze shifted to Archer, a mix of curiosity and reverence in his eyes. “And welcome, Nephilim. You've done well to bring the relic here safely.”
Archer tensed and Ezekiel moved closer to his nervous mate. "I... thank you? I'm still trying to wrap my head around all of this.”
“I’m sure it must be difficult. When things calm down a bit, perhaps you can meet up with Amir, a recently mated Nephilim. This was all very startling and new to him as well. As a matter of fact, Ezekiel was the one who delivered his —“
Ezekiel coughed loudly. “So we should get this underway.”
He locked eyes with Malchi in an intense stare. “I was just telling Archer that I would explain everything to him after we dealt with the relic. You know, since he has no idea what it means to have a fated mate.”
Malachi’s eyes widened. “Gotcha.”
He cleared his throat. “On that note, Michael is waiting for us in the conference room.”
They followed Maclahi down the hall, with the other Slayers trailing behind them. Beyond the use of the angelic wards, the beefed-up security was obvious. Once they entered the room, the other Slayers stood at the entrance, guarding the way.
“Ezekiel, Archer. Welcome,”
said Michael. “I won’t waste time on pleasantries. Protocol demands verification of the artifact, and only the Nephilim who recovered the relic may open the box,"
Michael stepped back as if to allow Archer his moment.
“Right. No pressure then,”
Archer quipped as he cracked his knuckles.
Ezekiel leaned in and whispered, “I’m so proud of you, angel.”
Archer tensed at the words, his jaw going a bit slack. He regarded Ezekiel with a tilt of his head, wonder crossing his features. “You mean that?”
“Of course.”
Ezekiel’s heart ached for his mate, further cementing his resolve to care for him always. “You've been thrust into an unbelievable situation yet handled it with remarkable courage.”
Archer’s cheeks flushed. He took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders as he approached the ornate table at the center of the room. With trembling hands, he placed the box on the polished surface and carefully opened the lid.
A soft gasp escaped Malachi and Michael’s lips as Archer revealed the contents of the box. Nestled on a bed of faded red velvet lay an intricately crafted amulet, its golden surface adorned with swirling patterns engraved deeply into the precious metal. At the center was a symbol Ezekiel wasn’t familiar with.
“The Amulet of Mary Magdalene,”
Michael breathed, his eyes wide with reverence. “It hasn’t been seen since the early three-hundreds. I have to wonder who this man was that you the key, Archer.”
Archer appeared startled by the contents of the box. He couldn’t keep still and was rubbing his chin.
“I’m wondering the same. When he came to me for a hip replacement, I’ll admit his referral was from a doctor I didn’t know. But that’s not terribly unusual.”
Archer shook his head. “He must’ve known that I’m…”
Archer raked his fingers through his hair. “This is so wild.”
Michael arched his eyebrows. “Indeed. Well, we’ll attempt to solve the mystery of your patient later. In the meantime, taking the amulet to be verified and sealed away is all that matters.”
Ezekiel pointed to the symbol on the amulet. “I’ve never seen this before. What does it mean?”
Michael gave Ezekiel the side eye. “Not well-versed in ancient Aramaic, it would seem. That’s the symbol for love, but in a universal sense.”
Ezekiel smirked. “I apologize for not keeping up with a language I haven’t had the occasion to use in almost two centuries.”
Michael gave him a wry smile. “Apology accepted.”
Malachi cleared his throat. “Shouldn’t we get going?”
With a nod, Michael turned to Archer. “Do you freely offer this amulet to the council for protection?”
Ezekiel dipped his chin at Archer. “Sure,”
said Archer, picking up the box. “Here you go.”
Ezekiel marveled at how Archer’s demeanor had softened throughout the day. While he’d seemed impossibly stubborn at their first meeting, the remarkable circumstances seemed to have given him a new perspective.
“Thank you,”
said Michael, accepting the relic from Archer. "We leave you behind with a heavy heart, Ezekiel. But your healing will be essential after the coming battle.”
Michael regarded Archer. “We shall meet again soon. In the meantime, your assistance to your mate will be greatly needed.”
Archer glanced at him with a wrinkled brow, but Ezekiel knew exactly what Michael was inferring. He doubted it was an accident that he was given a mate who was a doctor in his mortal life. The timing of him being gifted with his Fated One right as the need exploded for additional healers couldn’t be ignored.
As Michael gave instructions to the other Slayer present, Malachi elbowed Ezekiel. “Congrats, buddy. I have a feeling he’s going to keep you on your toes.”
Ezekiel chuckled. “Hey. I put up with Dante all these centuries. Archer doesn’t come close to that snark factory.”
Malachi snorted. “Actually, the guy has mellowed out a lot since Amir and the baby.”
A wistfulness fell over Ezekiel. He always had a soft spot for the babies he’d delivered. He stole a peek at Archer, who was being introduced to the other Slayers.
Someday.
“Little Leonardo is doing well?”
“They all are. We need to have a get-together when things are less hectic. You should see what Dante’s done to his little slice of heaven there in the mountains.”
Malachi let out a light laugh. “Now that he’s not ripping apart the enemy at every turn, he’s been expending his energy on home improvement projects.”
“I bet one of those projects involves knocking up Amir again.”
They both fell into laughter, and it wasn’t until Ezekiel looked up that he caught the bewildered expression on Archer’s face.
Malachi elbowed him again, covering his mouth with one hand as he whispered, “Dude. You’ve got to tell him.”
Ezekiel rubbed his forehead. “I know. But this is all so abrupt for him.”
“Not any more abrupt than him going into heat and freaking out. He keeps flushing.”
Ezekiel let out an aggravated sigh. “You’re right. I’m waiting until Cassiel, Darius and the others return. Then maybe we can sneak off together and -”
“Fuck?”
Ezekiel shot Malachi a glare. “Do you mind?”
Michael called out, “Sentinel. We need to leave.”
Malachi locked eyes with him, arching his eyebrows. “Don’t wait.”
“Bye,”
groused Ezekiel. “I can handle this.”
He patted Malachi’s back. “Safe travels.”
Malachi winked. “Thanks. See you soon.”
Once the room cleared, Ezekiel turned to meet the gaze of a frowning Archer. “What was that all about?”
Ezekiel clasped his hands in front of him. “Well… Michael and the others need to take the relic to the council, which is located in a Mount Shasta cavern. Then - “
“Ezekiel, please.”
Archer held up his palm. “Something’s up. I can tell from the way you and Malachi were whispering to each other. And I heard something about babies.”
He crossed his arms. “Are you married with a family? Because I’m out if you are. I don’t stand for that kind of shit.”
Ezekiel’s jaw dropped. “What? No! I would never do anything like that.”
“Okay, fine,”
said Archer tersely. “Then out with it.”
A cacophony sounded from down the hall at the entrance of the lair. Ezekiel and Archer exchanged glances, then bolted down the corridor toward the noise of shouts and cries for help. Cassiel staggered in, bloodied, with an injured Darius leaning against her, their faces etched with pain. Behind them, four more Slayers appeared at the entrance, the two at the rear looking up the steps as if verifying they weren’t being followed.
“Did the wards hold?”
Ezekiel called out as he approached the group.
Cassiel nodded. “Yes. I unsealed them.”
Ezekiel dipped his chin, as he ushered them inside. “Archer! I need your help.”
Archer hesitated, his eyes wide as he stared at the sight of the injured Slayers. Then, as if a switch had been flipped, he rushed forward alongside Ezekiel.
Ezekiel gestured to Cassiel. “She can fill you in while I reseal the wards. It’ll only take a few minutes. Start triage until I return.”
Ezekiel rushed to reinstate the wards. The way the Slayers had been checking behind them had him on edge. He hoped it didn’t mean they’d been followed. The lairs were a closely guarded secret. The attack in L.A. when Dante’s mate Amir was almost killed was the first they’d ever faced.
Once he was comfortable that the lair was protected, he rushed back inside. Archer glanced up from where he was crouched on the floor, checking Darius. His features a study in relief the moment they locked eyes.
"What happened?" Archer asked while assessing Darius' wounds. “Is all this from back at the bank?”
Ezekiel helped Archer lower Darius onto an ornate pew lining the hall. He seemed to be going in and out of consciousness, and Ezekiel knew they didn’t have time to waste on talk.
“I don’t know. I thought we had the advantage, were prepared.”
He drew his eyebrows together. “Have you determined what his injuries are?”
Archer indicated to Darius’ right arm. “This laceration is the most obvious wound, but I’m concerned by how incoherent he is. Do you have any medical equipment here? He needs a CAT Scan at the very least, and that’s not something I’m qualified to do. I can read the results, but I’m not a medical technician.”
Ezekiel placed his palm at the base of Darius’ skull. “That’s all right, dearest. We don’t utilize that type of medicine here.”
Archer pinched the bridge of his nose. “I guess I should’ve seen that coming,”
he muttered. “Okay. Then you’ll need to guide me through gargoyle protocol. I can dress wounds, do stitches, set broken bones without issue. Anything else you’ll have to talk me through.”
Ezekiel regarded his mate with affection. “I have a feeling you’ll find your place as a healer on your own. But of course, I’m here to help however I can.”
He returned his attention to Darius, the cloud in his colleague’s mind from more than a physical injury. As he’d feared all along, the drain on his spirit would be immense. Perhaps that was the rogue demons’ plan. They didn’t have to kill every Shadow Slayer, only injuring them enough that healing the ranks would be next to impossible. They could strike and run before losing too many of their own army.
Slow and deadly wins the race.
Archer had been studying him while he worked on Darius, but now he needed his help tending to the physical injuries Archer could handle.
“Dearest, check on Cassiel, please. She would’ve taken the other Slayers to the infirmary. It's down the hall, third door on the left. While you’re there, perform a triage, then grab whatever you need to dress Darius’ arm.”
Right as Archer rose, Cassiel appeared around the corner, pressing a hand to her own bleeding side. “Hey, I could use some help with the other guys back there.”
Ezekiel frowned. “Looks like you’re the one who could use the help.”
“I’ll live.”
She jerked her chin toward Darius. “How’s he doing? He got slammed against a wall several times pretty damn hard.”
Ezekiel wrapped his palm around Darius’ nape, letting his fingers be guided to the parts of Darius’ brain where light was needed the most.
“Sorry we couldn’t stay and help. Was the security footage wiped clean before you left?”
Cassiel huffed, then winced again. “What do you think this is? Amateur hour? Yeah, I zapped that shit clean before we bailed.”
She sighed. “However, it wasn’t the bank wall that Darius was smashed against. That was in an alley about a block away.”
She arched one eyebrow. “The one we left the cycle at. It was an ambush. Shadow gargoyles were waiting for us. We barely made it out."
Ezekiel’s gut clenched. “They’re being awfully brazen, aren’t they?”
Cassiel sank on the pew next to Darius. “The Seal of Solomon that Amir found seems to have tipped the scales of desperation for them. I’m guessing the latest relic was a biggie too?”
The darkness pushed against the light Ezekiel was sending into Darius’ brain. He needed more focus. “The Mary Magdalene Amulet.”
Her jaw went slack. “The one given to her by the Superstar Himself at the tomb?”
“That would be the one.”
Ezekiel screwed his eyes shut. “I need to concentrate. Can you bring Archer to the infirmary?”
He opened his eyes, catching her gaze to make sure she understood how serious he was. “Let him decide who gets treated first. If he says you’re his first customer, don’t argue.”
“Whatever,”
she mumbled.
“Cassiel, I mean it,”
he growled.
“Don’t worry,”
interjected Archer. “I’ll make her behave.”
Cassiel slowly rose from the pew. “I’m not into the kinky stuff, cowboy.”
Archer turned to Ezekiel. “Is this what I have to look forward to from now on?”
Ezekiel had to smile. “Pretty much.”
He peered up at Cassiel. “Behave yourself. This is my cowboy’s first rodeo, got it?”
“Fine.”
A light sweat decorated her brow, and her skin had paled more since her arrival. “I’ll dial it back a notch.”
Archer looked back and forth between him and Cassiel. “I’m an expert surgeon. I wouldn’t exactly call that my first rodeo.”
Cassiel looped her arm through his. She might be trying to put on a good front for Archer, but Ezekiel knew her light was seeping out quicker and quicker.
“I know, angel. But gargoyle medicine is unique.”
Archer pressed his lips together, his expression one of determination,
“Got it. I’ll do what I can.”
He hesitated for a moment, eyes lingering on Ezekiel. “Be careful, okay?”
Ezekiel's heart swelled at the concern in Archer’s voice. “I will. Now go. They need you.”
As he watched Archer help Cassiel down the hall, he wondered whether his mate's innate Nephilim abilities would manifest during the healing process. It wasn't unheard of for latent powers to emerge in times of great need or stress.
He returned his attention to Darius. “Come on, soldier,”
Ezekiel murmured. “Fight this.”
More than anything, he hoped they could all fight against the storm of darkness he sensed was imminent.