Chapter 22
22
GADREEL
T he Bone Moon sank, readying the Blood Moon to rise in its stead.
Backlit by the dim glow that blanched the forest, a cluster of Grigori crept through the trees. Masters of illusion, they didn’t look like creatures of Darkness. Instead, they’d shifted their shapes to resemble the men and women of Kalach, the better to infiltrate and devour. But the denizens of the forest knew them for what they were, and hid as they passed.
“To me, warriors,” Gadreel hissed as they came within sight of the rowan-fires that burned along the boundaries of Kalach. This was the home of the Dimi who had slaughtered his soldiers, the one who was stronger than any who had come before. He could feel her here, her power like a magnet drawing him onward.
But he could feel the Darkness, too. Swallowing Drezna whole had sustained it for a while, but now it was stirring again. There was no time to waste. Gadreel’s army wasn’t as massive as it would have been if the Dimi hadn’t vanquished his minions, but that was all right. He couldn’t bring too many soldiers to Kalach, lest he arouse suspicion. Even among his own ranks, there were spies. He had to lead his soldiers to believe this was nothing other than a typical raid, one he had decided to monitor personally after the disaster outside Drezna, lest word get back to Sammael that there was something special about Kalach.
It might be too late for that already. If he could feel the extraordinary Dimi’s power, then chances were that Sammael could, too. Even if the other demon believed Gadreel was responsible for the devastation of Drezna, that didn’t explain the cracks that had appeared in the barrier separating the Underworld and the world of humans. Gadreel could feel a yielding to the wards that protected Iriska. A sense of openness that hadn’t been there before.
Normally, this would have been cause to rejoice. But anyplace that yielded to him would yield, as well, to the Darkness. It was only a matter of time until what happened at Drezna took place again. And what if it took place here, in Kalach? What if it took the talented Dimi with it?
He couldn’t afford to wait. He needed her for his own—to leash her abilities, to bend her strength to his will before the Darkness destroyed them all.
His soldiers quickened their pace, and Gadreel gave a warning growl, holding them back. The assault on the village had been carefully plotted, every detail accounted for. It would not do for the greed and haste of his fellow Grigori to ruin it.
Grigori were not known for their obedience, nor for their patience. But they understood power and coveted it. What Gadreel demanded, they would fulfill, until it suited them to do otherwise. They fell in behind him, blurring the edges of their borrowed shapes until they blended with the trees and the dark.
Gadreel paused at the treeline, taking in the silent village. The fires burned high, reeking of the rowan smoke that scorched his lungs even in this form. They could not tarry here for long.
But even getting this close without being recognized by the wards was unheard of. The world was folding, breaking. Either he would slip through the cracks and back again, taking the Dimi with him, or everything would crumble and they would all be doomed.
The Dimi’s Light called to him. Burning. Beckoning. And suddenly, Gadreel found that he had run out of patience, himself.
“Now,” he said to Azazel, his second in command, and crossed the line that separated the village from the forest, without waiting to see if his company followed.