Chapter 90 Danica
Danica
"You're cheating, Dani!" Seraphina pouts, her usually sweet voice tinged with exasperation.
I laugh. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize we were playing by heavenly Little League rules. Should I ask the umpire for a ruling?"
We've been training since the ass-crack of dawn, on and off all day in Lucian's gym, our own little celestial dojo. It's our last session for the evening, before we call it a night.
Seraphina's been giving me the lowdown on the different angelic bloodlines. Apparently, I'm some sort of celestial mutt—part Warrior (thanks, Dad), with my fire, and part Time-Wielders. According to Seraphina, Time-Wielders can bend time, see the future, and control aging.
It's like being a superhero with multiple personality disorder.
On the other hand, Seraphina is from the Guardian line, which means she has mad skills in light manipulation, healing, and combat.
She also mentioned other freaky angel bloodlines, like astral projection and fear induction, because nothing screams "divine" like an out-of-body experience and the power to make people piss themselves.
"Dani, this is combat training, not time manipulation practice," Seraphina huffs, her halo practically steaming.
I snicker. "What, afraid you can't keep up with my mad skills? Don't worry, I'll put on some training wheels for you next time."
"Oh please," Seraphina scoffs, "I've been kicking butt since before your great-great-grandparents were in diapers."
"Yeah, yeah, you're practically a celestial fossil." Seraphina gives me a look that says she will kick my ass for calling her old.
Seraphina's glow-up? She's gone from heavenly wallflower to sassy queen bee in record time. After a few weeks of binge-watching trashy reality shows and hanging with us bad influences, she's a whole new angel.
And don't even get me started on the Lucian effect. That man is like the kinky Yoda to her horny Luke Skywalker. He's teaching her things that would make a nun blush. I'm pretty sure I saw her giving him a run for his money in the innuendo department the other day.
But the best part? Seeing her make herself at home here, like she's always been part of our little misfit family.
She's claimed her spot on the couch, her favorite mug in the kitchen, and a special place in all our hearts.
Watching her blossom and come into her own has been a highlight of this whole supernatural shitshow.
"Okay, okay," I concede, holding up my hands in mock surrender. "I'll try to keep the temporal trickery to a minimum. But if I accidentally pause mid-kick and face-plant, you'd better not laugh."
Seraphina's smile softens, her annoyance melting away. "Oh, Dani, you know I'd never laugh at you... for longer than five minutes, anyway."
"Gee, thanks," I snort, rolling my eyes. "You're a true friend, Sera." I grin, my light magic firing up in my hands. "Now, shall we continue this dance, or do you need a time-out, Granny?"
I'm in the middle of perfecting my angelic roundhouse kick when my phone starts belting out "Highway to Hell"—Damon's ringtone, naturally. I jog over to my stuff and pick up my phone while I towel off my sweat.
My little brother is supposed to grace us with his presence today, and I'm bouncing between excitement and nervousness like a ping-pong ball. Ten bucks says he's calling because he got lost and needs GPS coordinates to find his nose.
"I'm gonna take a shower," Seraphina calls out. "We'll resume our 'fair' fight tomorrow, you temporal terror."
"Aw, don't be bitter, sweetie," I holler as the door shuts behind her. "Just remember, if you can't stand the heat, stay out of the angel's kitchen!"
I press the green button on my phone, fully prepared for brotherly chaos. "Hey, little demon," I drawl. "Let me guess, you took a wrong turn at Albuquerque and ended up in Narnia?"
Honestly, with Damon, I wouldn't even be surprised if he somehow stumbled into a magical wardrobe.
"Well, hello there, little firefly. Miss me?" The voice that slithers through the phone is like ice water down my spine, dark with malice and evil promises.
Azrael.
My fingers go numb, the phone nearly slipping from my suddenly clammy grip. My heart hammers against my ribcage like it's trying to escape, and I can taste copper on my tongue. The gym around me fades away, replaced by a suffocating darkness threatening to swallow me whole.
"Tsk, tsk, Dani dearest," he purrs, each syllable a venomous caress.
"It seems we find ourselves in quite the predicament.
I have a shiny new toy, and you... well, you have something I've been positively dying to get my hands on.
How about we make a deal, hmm? A little quid pro quo between old friends? "
My breath comes in short, sharp gasps. The room spins, and I brace myself against the wall to avoid collapsing. Bile rises in my throat as images of what Azrael will do to Damon—flash through my mind like a horrific slideshow.
The realization hits me like a ton of bricks, stealing the air from my lungs. The last piece of the soul stone—that's what Azrael's after. It's the only thing that makes sense.
"What's the matter, sweetheart?" Azrael's voice oozes through the phone, with false concern, making my skin crawl. "Cat got your tongue?"
Anger surges through me, white-hot and blinding. "If you hurt him, I swear to God, Azrael—"
"You'll what, Dani?" he cuts me off, his tone mocking. "Kill me? We both know how well that's worked out for you. Why don't you quit playing the hero and embrace the pathetic, bleeding heart you've always been?"
I squeeze my eyes shut, a traitorous tear escaping and burning a path down my cheek. "What do you want?" I manage through gritted teeth. My jaw clenched so tight it aches.
"I think you know," Azrael chuckles, the sound grating against my nerves like nails on a chalkboard. "But since you're playing dumb, I'll spell it out for you. It starts with an 'S' and ends with a 'tone.' You've been such a good little puppy, fetching my toys for me."
His laughter echoes in my ear, and I fight the urge to retch.
My legs give out, and I slide down the wall, collapsing to the floor in a boneless heap—Damon's face flashes—my baby brother is the only family I have left.
If I give Azrael the stone, there's no telling what horrors he'll unleash. But if I don't...
"Fine," I whisper, my voice barely audible over my heart pounding. "But I need to know he's okay. Let me talk to him."
"Even better."
My phone buzzes. I accept the Facetime call with shaking hands, steeling myself for what I'm about to see. The image that fills the screen rips a silent scream from my throat, my hand flies to my mouth to stifle the sound.
Damon, my little brother, is tied to a chair, his face a mess of blood and bruises. His head lolls forward, his eyes barely open, and my heart shatters in my chest.
Azrael's face appears. His dark hair, black eyes, and twisted smile stretch his lips. "Tick-tock, Dani. What's it going to be?" He grabs Damon's matted hair, yanking his head back and shoving the phone in his face. "Say hello to your sister, Damon. She wants to make sure you're doing okay."
"D-Dani," Damon croaks, his voice weak and broken. "Don't. Stay awa—"
Azrael's hand connects with Damon's head in a sickening crack, and my brother's head snaps forward, hanging limply. Rage explodes inside me, a roaring inferno that consumes every other emotion.
"I'm going to fucking kill you, Azrael," I seethe, my voice shaking with the force of my anger.
"Idle threats, my dear," Azrael scoffs. "I'm giving you one last chance—the stone for your brother's life. I'm being more than generous here, but my patience is wearing thin. So, what's it going to be?"
"Fine," I spit, the word tasting like acid on my tongue. "Just tell me where. And I swear to God if you lay another finger on him—"
"Ah ah ah," Azrael tuts, wagging his finger at the screen.
"No need for dramatics. Meet me alone—DO NOT bring that shitstain Viking with you, either.
I'm feeling nostalgic, how about coming to your lovely parents' old place.
You remember where that is, don't you?" His smile turns predatory, his black eyes glinting with malice.
"Oh, that's right. You do. It's where my dogs tore your parents to shreds. Such a tragedy."
Pain lances through my chest, stealing my breath. Memories of that night flash before my eyes—the blood, my parents dead and shredded to a pulp—Azrael's so-called hellhounds. I blink back tears, refusing to let him see me break.
Damon tries to speak, but Azrael shoves something in his mouth, silencing him. Another punch and Damon's head snaps to the side, blood trickling from his split lip.
"Stop!" I beg, my voice cracking. "I said I'll meet you. Just... please. Don't hurt him."
"Good girl," Azrael purrs. "You have three hours. Don't be late, and no fucking portals—I don't trust you and that magic. Come alone, or he dies."
The screen goes black, and the phone slips from my numb fingers, clattering to the floor. Sobs wrack my body, tears streaming down my face. I can't lose Damon. I can't. But Azrael made it clear—I have to come alone. If I don't, he'll kill Damon, and then he'll come for everyone else I love.
I have to do this. Alone.
Rhyland's voice echoes in my mind, concern lacing his words. "Baby? You okay? I feel your sadness."
Shit. He can't know. I hastily wipe my tears, sniffing back my sobs. "Yeah, I'm fine," I lie, my voice surprisingly steady. "Seraphina just told me something that upset me. But I'm okay."
"Okay," Rhyland replies, sounding uncertain. "I'm in a meeting with the other vampires from the other countries. I'll be here another hour or so. Are you sure you're good?"
Relief washes over me. Rhyland will be occupied. It's the perfect opportunity for me to slip away unnoticed.
"Yup," I chirp, forcing a cheerfulness I don't feel. "You do you, boo. I'll see you after your meeting."
I end the connection before he can sense the lie in my words. Taking a deep breath, I push myself to my feet, my legs shaking. I have three hours to save my brother, to face the monster who's haunted us for months.
And I'll be damned if I let Azrael win this time.