Chapter 4
MALCOLM
Isense them before I hear them.
It's been a week since I brought Elysia home, a week of watching her heal, of pretending I'm not growing more fascinated by her with each passing day. Her wings are mending slowly—too slowly—but she's regained her strength enough to move around the house, but I’m not sure she’ll ever fly again. Which means she needs to hide.
Now.
"Someone's coming," I say, cutting off her story about Shadow's latest antics. She's curled up in my favorite chair, the cat in her lap, looking so natural in my home that it makes my chest ache. But there's no time for that right now. "Demons. Two of them."
The color drains from her face. "How—"
"My closet," I say, already moving toward her. "It's the only place their magic won't detect you if they haven’t already. Quickly."
To her credit, she doesn't hesitate. Shadow leaps away as Elysia stands, wincing at the sudden movement of her wings but staying silent.
I guide her to my bedroom with my hand placed at the small of her back, to the large walk-in closet that's spelled to hide anything inside it.
It's meant for storing forbidden weapons, not protecting fallen angels, but the magic won't know the difference.
"Don't make a sound," I whisper, helping her settle between hanging clothes. "No matter what you hear. Promise me."
She nods, her eyes wide with fear, yet still trusting. That trust tears at my heart. She shouldn't trust me this much, and she definitely shouldn't be looking at me like I'm anything but the monster I am.
The knock at my front door echoes through the house. I close the closet quietly, check that it's secure, then head downstairs. Each step feels like lead, but I keep my movements as casual as my racing heart will allow.
I open the door to find Kris and Veron on my porch, their armor gleaming in the afternoon sun. Peer soldiers, though I've never liked either of them. Kris is too eager with his blade, and Veron enjoys causing pain more than any demon should.
"Malcolm," Kris says, his thin lips twisted in what might be a smile. "Been a while."
I lean against the doorframe, deliberately relaxed. "I wasn't expecting visitors."
"Clearly." Veron's eyes scan past me into the house. "You've missed your last three patrols. Command was... concerned and asked us to check in on you."
"I've been occupied with personal matters." The lie tastes bitter on my tongue, but I keep my expression neutral. "I’ll be back at my post tomorrow."
"Personal matters?" Kris raises an eyebrow. "Out here in the middle of nowhere? What could possibly—" He stops, nose twitching. "Do you smell that?"
My heart stutters, but I don't let it show. "Smell what?"
"Something holy," Veron says, pushing past me into the house. "Faint, but..."
"I caught a fallen one last week," I say smoothly. The best lies contain at least some truth. "Didn't report it because it was a routine termination. Nothing outside of the normal."
Kris follows Veron inside, both of them scanning the room intensely. "And yet you've been absent since then. Unlike you, Malcolm. You're one of our most reliable hunters."
"I needed a break." Another lie containing a trace of truth. I close the door, tracking their movements. They're getting too close to the stairs. "Even demons need vacation time."
"A break," Veron repeats, his tone making the words sound filthy as they roll off his tongue. "Or perhaps... a distraction?"
I force a laugh. "And what kind of distraction would I find out here?" I ask, raising my hands upward as I look around.
"That's what we're going to find out." Kris starts up the stairs, his boots heavy on the wooden steps. "Command sent us to check on you, but personally? I think you're hiding something. Or someone. It reeks of holiness."
I trail them closely, my mind racing at the possibilities of what comes next. I could kill them both. Probably. But then there would be bodies to dispose of, questions to answer, more soldiers would come here in search of them...
They reach my bedroom, and my muscles coil tight, already preparing for a fight. Veron runs his hand along my bed, smirking. "Your sheets smell interesting, Malcolm."
"I wasn't aware you made a habit of sniffing other demons' beds," I say, letting disgust color my tone. "Should I be concerned?"
Kris laughs, but it doesn't reach his eyes. He's moving toward the closet. My tattoos heat with suppressed power, ready to strike. Just a few more steps and he’ll be there.
Fuck.
A crash sounds from inside the closet, making my heart drop into my stomach.
Time freezes. Kris's hand is on the doorknob. Veron's blade is already drawn. And I... I make my choice.
My tattoos explode with power as I lunge for Kris’s throat.
He's dead before he hits the ground, neck snapped by hands that have killed thousands before him, and will kill thousands after him.
Veron roars in response and swings his blade, but he's too slow. He’s always been too slow.
Stepping forward, I catch his sword arm, then drive my fist through his armor and into his chest, grasping his beating heart between my fingertips before tearing it out.
It's over in seconds. They never had a chance. Blood soaks into the carpet as I stand over their bodies, breathing hard. Not from exertion—it was an easy fight—but from the realization of what I've just done. I've killed my own kind. I’ve committed treason. All for...
I rip the closet door open, breaking it off its hinges in a panic, and Elysia rushes out the moment she sees it’s me.
Her eyes are wide and she’s breathless as she takes in the scene, but she doesn't scream. She doesn't run. She simply looks at me with an expression I haven’t seen from her, and I can’t get a good read on it.
"I'm sorry," I say, though I'm not sure what I'm apologizing for. The violence? The fact that I'd do it again in a heartbeat? "I didn't know what else to do. I wasn’t thinking—"
She crosses the space between us, avoiding the still-warm bodies, and touches my face, her fingers gentle against my cheek. I freeze, caught between the instinct to pull away and the desperate need to lean into her touch.
"You saved me," she whispers, and I get lost staring into the golden pools that are her eyes as she steps into my arms. "Again."
Heaven and Hell help anyone who tries to take her from me.