Chapter 38
Will
Will cut down demon after demon without stopping for breath. The energy and life force he poured into every strike was greater than he’d ever possessed. Exhilaration roared in his veins.
Not, because he was causing so much death.
Nor because of the surety in his heart they would win – though, that certainly existed in abundance.
No. After an eternity of fighting against the current, he’d finally changed direction.
He knew who he was down to the very last fiber of his being.
What’s more, he was proud of it. He knew what they were fighting for, and he understood his place in the world that would rise from those ashes.
This confidence and self-awareness had given him additional strength he hadn’t known existed in his repertoire. Nearby, the archangels fought, too. Michael kept glancing in Will’s direction as though he couldn’t believe the male Will had become. Will like that a lot.
In your face, Michael. You shouldn’t have been so quick to judge.
In his head, the Holiest of voices appeared. “Will,”
He replied mid strike, not daring to stop fighting even for the Savior himself. “Shit, sorry. I know. Pride is a sin.”
“Indeed it is, but your attention is needed elsewhere. To your left, thirty feet.”
He threw up a shield and turned to the left, just in time to see a winged demon making a bee line for Christo. Will flashed out, materializing at the sandy-haired bartender’s side just as an immortal blade pierced his body between the shoulder blades and erupted from the middle of his chest.
Will caught him as he fell and threw up a shield so fast that it severed the demonic hand still attached to the sword.
The pair sank to the ground slowly, sharp sounds from the battlefield echoing around them.
A clash of steel, the sizzle of magic in the air, and cries of triumph and death.
Growling and snarls slowly filtered into the rest of the noise as some of the Hellhounds surrounded his shield.
They’d come to assist and protect, facing all nearby threats with courage and menace.
Despite the cacophony, all Will could hear amidst it all was Christo’s ragged breaths.
He pressed his hand over the wound, the glow of his Holy aura a beacon in the darkness.
Desperation arose at once, as he realized the extent of the damage.
Rivers of Christo’s blood poured out between his fingers faster than divinity could repair it.
Even if Will gave every ounce of his power, it wasn’t going to be enough.
“Will…” blood spluttered from Christo’s mouth as he struggled to speak. “It’s my time.”
“No!” Emotion welled up as Will refused to accept this tragedy. “I won’t let it. I just need to keep you alive until another angel can assist. I could take you to Ramiel’s realm.”
“Too late…” Christo choked, blood spraying from his mouth as he tried to cough. “Been. An. honor.”
It was no secret that Christo had never wanted immortality. He complained frequently about being caught up in vampire and demon politics. He’d never wanted any of this. Right now, as the life was literally leaking out of him, a smile played on his lips.
Tears dripped from Will’s chin onto Christo’s wound, leaving sparkles of energy behind. If only that was enough to fix this.
As Christo’s breath hitched and tremors held his body hostage, Will realized he’d already accepted his fate. In fact, this was the most relaxed he’d ever seen the mortal.
“I’m so fucking sorry,” Will said softly.
“No need.” He grimaced as the pain intensified.
Will stopped trying to heal, and concentrated on removing the pain instead. His chest felt like it was on fire with the threat of grief looming on the horizon.
Christo’s hand clamped over Will’s with surprising resolve. “Brother.”
The strength he’d held just minutes earlier faltered. Suddenly the cost of victory seemed too much to bear, and this was only one life. Christo would not be the only casualty they would suffer; not by a long shot.
“Brother,” Will repeated, his voice barely audible.
When Christo’s hand slipped away, it felt like the world had stopped for a moment.
His chest heaved just once, and then stilled.
His eyes glazed over, and his presence imploded into nothingness.
The shell remaining offered a mere echo of this brave mortal.
Loyal, and courageous, until his last breath.
The peace in his expression did nothing to alleviate the weight of the loss.
For a few seconds, Will couldn’t move. He had to remind himself to breathe. With a quivering hand, he reached over to close Christo’s eyes. The small dignity that offered seemed so inadequate.
“You called me too late!” He accused bitterly. You didn’t give me enough time!”
The Savior, whose presence had never left, let out a gentle sigh. It was not audible to anyone other than Will, yet it was so poignant that he felt it to the depths of his soul.
“Look deeper, my angel. See the truth.”
“The truth? If I had arrived even a second earlier, I could have prevented this.”
“While that is true, it is not the revelation I speak of.”
“He wanted this.”
“He did.”
“He’s been done for a long time, hasn’t he?”
“Yes. But his loyalty prevented him from seeking the end until he was certain he’d done all he could to aid your cause.”
Will could not seem to wrap his head around any of it. It went against the grain of the Holy principles at his core. “How often do you actually allow people a true death like this?”
“This is the first time. You are the angel of mercy. Can you not grasp the necessity? This mortal has been caught up in a war not his own for a lifetime longer than a true lifespan. He did not choose this path. I offered him a place in the Outer Realms. He did not want that. He knew that even there, he would not be free of his ties to your Immortal Trinity.”
Tears clouded his vision. Will wiped them away, unable to pry his eyes away from Christo’s empty shell. “We failed him.”
“Untrue. His path was determined by his father’s choices. The three of you gave him a greater life than he dared imagine.”
“I miss him already. Tobias is going to–” Will stopped suddenly and gazed in the direction he knew Tobias would be. “Fuck. This loss is going to weaken him. I need to find him.”
“But first…?”
Will returned his attention to Christo. “Can I put him in Ramiel’s realm? Just temporarily?”
“An excellent choice. Make haste, Will. Time grows short.”
He lay the body down by the stream where he’d sat with Kitty before the quest to save Rion. The first time he’d met her, back before they’d lost anyone who mattered.
It was no less chaotic then. It’s always been chaotic. If we ever want that chance, we have to make it count this time. I cannot let this anger cripple me. I must use it to make a difference.
Leaving Christo in the sanctuary of the Outer Realms, Will re-materialized back on the battlefield, guided by the Savior’s hand. He felt the intervention for a fraction of a second before reentry. Just long enough to realize he was being sent back to a specific location.
Althea Rhodes. One of the strongest females Will had ever met, another treasured ally of Tobias, sat bowed and broken with her lover’s blood-soaked body cradled close.
Her sobbing cut through him to the core.
Rhodes would not survive Keziah’s death.
Like Christo, she’d been on a dark and unforgiving path for too long.
Next to her, Derek fought with speed and precision, protecting the females from a slurry of threats in multiple directions. Tobias had known from the start that this male was special, but it was the first time Will had seen it first-hand.
He flashed closer and threw up a shield.
Derek sank to his knees, overcome with exhaustion.
Will felt it, but did not look. His eyes were for Keziah only.
A hand to her abdomen revealed that a True-death had not claimed her; not yet.
So much blood had been spilled that it was a very real outcome on the fringe of becoming reality.
Will knew healing the damage would take too long, and too much energy. Undead flesh didn’t knit back together the way a mortal’s did. Instead, he held his wrist to Althea. “Open a vein for her. Do it quickly.”
Hope regenerated in an instant, she did as requested, and forced Keziah’s mouth open.
Drop after drop fell into her mouth until she choked on it, forcing an involuntary swallow.
Both hands clutched onto his wrist and gulped down several long mouthfuls.
The moment danger had passed, Will offered his vein to Derek.
The male took just a few drops and gave a respectful nod.
“I’ll keep her safe,” Will told Althea, before taking Keziah to the Outer Realms. He left her with Christo, promising to return as soon as it was safe to do so.
His next re-entry to the In-Between was also guided by the Savior.
He didn’t question it, nor hesitate. If healing was what was needed, this is the purpose he would fulfill.
While many could fight, few had the strength to heal victim after victim the way he could.
He could only pray that Tobias would be able to hold on until the Savior no longer needed to guide his hand.
This time it was Michael himself who had fallen. He lay gasping on the ground, his steed expired beside him. The demon, the very same demon who’d ended Christo, poised ready to strike a final blow.
An abundance of grief sharpened into a Holy fury so absolute, it was as though Will himself was the weapon. Wings unfurled and divine power flared around him in crackling white flames that pierced the night brighter than the morning star.
Will didn’t even call for his sword this time. His very hands ignited with Holy flame, the yin to Rion’s yang. Contact was brutal. The demon exploded into a fireball of white light, body and soul disintegrating in a millisecond. Will stared at it for a moment in shock, and then his flaming hand.
The moment passed quickly, and he knelt down beside Michael.
Ruler of the archangels of the sixth level of the higher realms, commander of the Holy army.
A male of great power and faith. Someone who Will had reported to when he’d been made a guardian.
A male, whom Will had once resided above in the seventh realm.
For a time, he’d forgotten his worth, and the strength of his faith and divinity. Michael had been the authority who crushed his spirit. No more.
This time, Will did not gloat, or revel in his self-awareness.
He picked up Michael’s broken body, and took him to Ramiel’s realm along with the others.
He wove a small miracle to remove the worst of Michael’s pain, but the angel would survive these injuries.
He just needed a quiet place unobstructed by the ongoing battle.
“I’ll be back,” Will said with a gentleness he’d never shown to Michael before. “Rest, now.”
Michael said nothing, but the truth in his eyes was everything.
He understood at last. Not just the full scope of the Savior’s forgiveness and the realms and warriors that came with it.
He had finally seen into Will’s soul and realized that purity and goodness came in many forms. Even, one wrapped in a tattooed and pierced vessel with a dirty mouth and connections to the Undead and Unholy.
Will smiled, just a little to put Michael at ease, and returned to the battlefield.
One of the silver dragons battled a dark wyvern just a few feet away. At first Will couldn’t understand why the Savior had sent him to this exact spot. Then he saw it. A demon stood upon the wyvern’s shoulders, directing the beast.
A smirk took over Will’s features as he flew to the dragon’s shoulders to assist. Placing a palm to the bio-luminescent scales at the creature’s neck, he encased it in a Holy shield. “I will be your armor, friend.” He told the dragon. “Let’s fuck some shit up.”