Chapter 31
Please answer. Please answer. Answer, dammit !
Stryke held his breath, his chest constricting more with every unanswered ring of Eidolon’s comms. Five rings in, and it hadn’t even gone to techmail.
Six. Son of a bitch.
Seven. Shit.
Eight. Shit !
Stryke deserved Eidolon’s cold shoulder. But fuck that. This was about Cyan. He’d hunt his uncle down and do this in person. He didn’t care if the guy was in his office, in surgery, or in the fucking shower. All that mattered was Cyan.
Just as he was about to disconnect, Eidolon appeared a few feet away in his office, life-sized and wearing scrubs. A surgical cap hid his dark hair, and a mask hung off his chin. He looked annoyed.
“Stryke,” Eidolon said, using his detached-doctor voice instead of his slightly less stern uncle voice. “This’d better be important.”
Apologize .
He knew he needed to do it. He just…wasn’t very good at admitting he was in the wrong. Because he wasn’t wrong often.
He opened his mouth, but the words wouldn’t come. Eidolon didn’t make it any easier, just stood there waiting, his dark gaze drilling into him.
“It’s about Cyan,” Stryke said. “How long before…?”
Most of the ice in the doctor’s eyes melted away. He knew what Stryke was asking.
“It seems to depend on the species.” Eidolon tugged down his mask. “But generally, by the end of the first trimester.”
“Do you know why? Most miscarriages are the result of fetal abnormalities, but how does that play into the destruction of Sheoul-gra?”
“I’ve run extensive tests for years and never got an answer,” Eidolon said. “So, I consulted with Azagoth.” He whipped the cap off his head, leaving his hair flat and plastered to his scalp. “He believes the reason for the miscarriages is the absence of a soul.”
Whoa. Okay, interesting.
“Apparently,” Eidolon continued, “unlike human fetuses, which aren’t given souls until shortly before birth and it’s certain the baby will be born alive, demon fetuses are ensouled by the end of the first trimester. It helps them absorb more evil and be born with ruthless survival instincts.”
So unborn demons were evil sponges?
He must have spoken out loud because Eidolon nodded. “But how much they absorb is location dependent. The more evil they’re exposed to in utero , the more evil they’ll be. It explains why some species of demons seek out the worst parts of Sheoul to spend their pregnancies. It’s also why demons born in the human realm are generally less malevolent than their Sheoul-dwelling brethren.”
Stryke loved that his uncle was a living, breathing, vault of knowledge.
“Obviously, you’ve talked to Cyan,” Eidolon said. “How is she?”
She was currently on her way to Stryke’s office. The security system was tracking her and notifying him of updates.
“She’s as confused as I am,” Stryke told his uncle. “But we do know who the father is.”
One curious eyebrow climbed up Eidolon’s forehead. “Who?”
“I am. Apparently, I’m fertile.” Not that it mattered. The baby wouldn’t be born. Without a soul, it wasn’t even a baby.
But the heaviness in his heart didn’t care about the facts and logic. Which might be the first time ever.
The familiar lure of a mystery lit Eidolon’s eyes. His dedication to science and knowledge had made Eidolon one of his idols growing up, and Stryke felt another twinge of guilt and sorrow at having let his uncle down by stealing from him.
“Have you determined how that’s possible?” Eidolon asked.
He nodded. He and Cyan had spent hours working with theories, finally coming up with an answer.
An answer he really didn’t want to share with Eidolon.
“It’s the sexual suppressant my company developed,” he said, shifting his gaze to a window to avoid a told-you-so look from his uncle. “You used pre- s’genesis Sems to create yours. I used post- s’genesis males, figuring their fertility would make my formula stronger. It did, but I believe it also made me fertile.” He held up his hand, staving off Eidolon’s next question. “Yes, I pulled it off the market.”
“Does this mean you won’t be using it anymore?”
Stryke nodded as the elevator doors opened and Cyan entered, looking exhausted but beautiful in worn jeans, tennis shoes, and a loose purple-and-white-polka-dot blouse. He couldn’t help but picture her in a maternity top, but the image faded away as reality intruded.
“Hi, Eidolon,” she said.
“How are you doing, Cyan?” Eidolon asked in a totally different voice than he’d been using with Stryke. Gone was the disappointed uncle, and in his place was a caring, soothing doctor. “Stryke told me you got your answers.”
She shrugged, but Stryke knew she wasn’t as nonchalant about it as she appeared. “Not that it matters.”
A wave of possessiveness washed over him. Possessiveness and determination. This shouldn’t be happening to either of them. The laws of nature, physics, and the entire universe be damned. Surely, there was something StryTech could do. Or maybe he knew someone who could help. He had a lot of powerful friends and family members. He had contacts who were Princes of Heaven and Hell. He also had blackmail material on pretty much everyone.
“Why don’t you make an appointment with me for next week?” Eidolon said. “We’ll help you through this, okay?”
Cyan’s eyes grew misty, and she nodded. A moment later, Eidolon disconnected.
“Hey.” Stryke went to Cyan and pulled her into his arms. He wasn’t used to hugging or giving comfort, and even as he held her, his brain was in overdrive, searching for ways to fix this.
Maybe he could somehow help Hades get the new Sheoul-gra up and running. If Hades could start recycling souls again, maybe—
“Excuse me, Mr. Stryke.” Kalis’s voice filled the room. “There’s an angel named Gabriel here to see you. He says it’s important.”
Gabriel? Here?
Instant alarm shot through him. What if this was about the Gehennaportal? Or the dead angel. Stryke didn’t want Cyan anywhere near those conversations. Gabriel could be trying to cover his tracks, which could put her in danger.
On the other hand…Gabriel was a top-tier angel. Perhaps he could help Cyan somehow.
So, basically, either the timing was great, or really, really bad.
Gabriel was in the building ?
No. No, this couldn’t be. Did he know Cyan had told Stryke the truth about the Gehennaportal? Was he here to punish her or kill Stryke?
“I need you to go to my place,” he said, snagging her hand and practically dragging her toward the Harrowgate at the rear of his office.
“Excuse me?” She planted her feet and refused to budge. “I’m not going anywhere. If this is about the Gehennaportal, I need to be here too.”
“This is non-negotiable—”
Suddenly, the elevator doors slid open, and Gabriel, along with two other angels, filed inside. Gabriel, dressed in what appeared to be a burlap sack, stared daggers at the others, who swept to the center of the room, gem-encrusted blades in their hands.
Stryke released her, only to casually step in front of her, shielding her from the newcomers. “How did you get in here? I didn’t give Kalis permission. Security should have stopped you.”
“They tried,” the dark-haired guy said, his dove-gray wings flaring, his voice a perfect imitation of Kalis’s. A tremor of terror crawled up her spine at the realization of what that meant. This angel had announced Gabriel, not Stryke’s assistant. “They were all such nice people.”
“Were ?” Stryke’s lips peeled back from his teeth in a feral snarl. “What did you do?”
Gabriel hung his head, but his eyes, shifting back and forth between the others, sparked with pure defiance. “Thrones have no honor.”
The other angel, his golden mane flowing hypnotically over his shoulders, stepped forward. “We need information.”
“You can go fu—” Stryke choked, clawing at his throat as an invisible force threw him across the room. He slammed into a bookcase and landed in a heap on the floor.
“No!” Cyan rushed toward him, but Dove Gray caught her by the arm.
“Tell us what happened on the oil platform and what happened to Hutriel,” he snapped, shaking her so hard her teeth rattled. “Tell us now.”
“I don’t know anything,” she yelled, struggling to free herself from his iron grasp. She opened herself up to her gift, prepared to weave a defensive spell into the nearest tech.
But there was nothing there. Not even a spark of magical energy.
“What are you doing to me?” she screamed, struggling even harder, but she might as well have been trying to fight a statue.
“My touch negates a demon’s power,” he said calmly and then backhanded her so hard she saw spots.
A furious roar vibrated the room. “ Release her !” Stryke stormed toward them, his dermoire glowing, his eyes crimson pools of rage.
Golden Mane intercepted, throwing up a translucent shield. “What if I told you I have something you want.”
Stryke slammed his fist into the shield, the impact making it vibrate. “What I want is for you to die.”
As if Stryke’s fury was no more bothersome than a gnat, the bastard calmly held up his hand, a little ball of light bouncing at his fingertips. “Do you know what this is, demon?”
Stryke sneered. “A Heavenly lantern? An angelic anal bead? I have no idea.”
Dove Gray snorted and jerked Cyan roughly. “There will never be a time when I won’t hate demons.”
Yeah, well, she was rapidly learning that angels were no saints either.
Golden Mane tossed the orb into the air and caught it again. “This,” he said, holding the ball of light up to study it, “is a soul. Beautiful, isn’t it?”
The crimson rage in Stryke’s eyes faded, and Cyan wondered if she looked as confused as Stryke did. “What’s your point?”
“You,” Golden Mane said, “are a much-debated topic in my realm. How much power and influence should you be allowed to have? What should we do if the weapons you create to kill demons are used against humans? And there are entire tomes written about how your past shaped you. It’s fascinating. Really. No sarcasm intended. I wrote one of those tomes. That’s why the Thrones sent me. I’m kind of an expert.”
“Maybe you could sign a copy for me,” Stryke said. “Before I cause you a whole lot of pain.”
Golden Mane laughed and looked over at her captor. “He’s cute, isn’t he? I told you he’d come up with an empty threat.”
Cyan held in a snort. This douche thought he was an expert on Stryke? Moron.
Stryke didn’t make empty threats.
The douche turned back to Stryke. “A long time ago, you got your baby brother killed,” he said, and Stryke’s face paled. “You must have wondered where his soul went, given that he was born during this unprecedented and glorious period of no demon births. Was his soul demonic? Human? Otherworldly?”
Oh…oh, gods. Cyan stared at the luminous orb with growing horror, her knees quaking.
Chaos . That orb was…Chaos.
Golden Mane rolled the orb across the back of his hand, weaving it in and out of his fingers. “Tell us how Hutriel died.”
“I don’t know.” Stryke stared at the glowing ball, sweat beading on his brow. “I wasn’t there.”
“What do you know?” Golden Mane released the shield, clearly no longer concerned about a physical attack. “Very few beings have the power to destroy souls,” he mused, holding up the orb again. “Do you think I’m one of them?”
“If you do anything to that soul,” Stryke said, his voice warping with rage, “I promise I will find a way to destroy you .”
“I believe you’ll try.”
“If you’ve done your research,” Stryke said in a voice as cold as a grave, “you’ll know I’ll succeed.”
Golden Mane didn’t appear too concerned. “I don’t have to destroy it. I can do other things to it.” A flame appeared on the tip of his finger. Smiling, he held the flame to the orb.
Stryke screamed, a soul-deep, bloodcurdling sound that tore Cyan’s heart to shreds. He lunged at Golden Mane, but Dove Gray released her and flashed behind Stryke. In a hard, fast motion, he slammed Stryke to his knees.
“Stop!” she shouted, rushing toward him.
Gabriel appeared in her path, blocking her. “Don’t,” he warned her. “They will kill you.”
Golden Mane doused his finger, his smile grim as Stryke struggled against his captor’s hold.
“Tell me how Hutriel died,” he repeated.
“Chaos,” Stryke rasped, his gaze glued to the glowing orb. “Please, don’t. Don’t hurt him again. I swear I don’t know anything.”
Golden Mane eyed him with skepticism. “What of the Gehennaportal?”
Oh, shit. Cyan’s heart leaped into her throat, clogging it so badly she could barely breathe. What was the right answer for these guys? What had Gabriel told them?
They were going to die today, weren’t they?
Stryke’s expression was impassive now, completely stone-faced. “What of it?”
Dove Gray cuffed him in the ear. “Was it destroyed?”
Stryke’s split second of hesitation cost him. Cost Chaos. Golden Mane put the orb to the flame again.
Stryke screamed in agony. “Stop! The portal is—”
Suddenly, Gabriel crashed into Golden Mane. Taking advantage of the moment of confusion, Cyan swept a stapler off Stryke’s desk and hurled it at Dove Gray’s head just as Stryke power-jabbed his elbow into the angel’s groin.
Cyan didn’t see anything else. Everything spun as she was catapulted backward, tackled to the ground by—
Gabriel?
“Listen to me,” Gabriel hissed into her ear.
He spoke so quickly it seemed impossible, but she heard it all, and she dropped to her knees in shock.
“Countermeasure,” Stryke shouted distantly. “A-Four, New-F!”
Fog spewed from vents in the ceiling and floor, boiling and writhing, and Cyan’s shock turned to horror. She knew that fog.
A malevolent heaviness filled the room, and the angels began to wheeze. They moved as if suspended in gelatin as the weight of pure evil bore down on them from all sides.
“Countermeasure,” Stryke shouted again. “A-Two!”
A glowing red ball appeared in the center of the room. Golden Mane’s eyes shot wide. He tried to reach it, but he moved in slow motion, his white wings dragging like sodden towels on the floor.
Too late. The ball burst, and a concussive wave hit all the angels on a level Cyan couldn’t feel but that slammed them into the air, their bodies vibrating and contorting. And then they disappeared. Just…winked away.
“Cyan!” Stryke rushed over to where she sat against the wall, dazed, one hand draped across her belly.
“Cyan—”
“I’m okay,” she assured him. “I just need…to catch my…breath.” She sat up straighter as he went down on his haunches in front of her. “Using the evil fog was brilliant.”
“I got the idea while we were on the Sea Storm .” Closing his haunted eyes, he rested his forearms on his legs and bowed his head. “If that bastard hurts Chaos—”
“He can’t.” She reached out and gripped his wrist. “Gabriel made sure of that.”
His head whipped up. “What?”
Gabriel’s words rang like musical notes in her ears. She couldn’t explain it, but when he’d spoken to her, she’d experienced a strange kind of peace, as if his voice had struck a frequency that tapped into infinite joy. And what he’d told her…it changed everything.
“He protected me. He protected all of us,” she said. “When he attacked that golden-haired bastard, he took Chaos’s orb.”
“So, he has it? Then why did he attack you?”
“He didn’t attack me,” she said. “He knew I was pregnant and needed me clear of the fight.” She tapped her belly, her eyes stinging at the momentousness of what was just now sinking in. “He gave me Chaos’s soul. It’s in me. It’s in the baby. He’s safe, Stryke. Chaos is okay.”
“He’s safe,” Stryke breathed. “I can’t...” He fell back on his ass, staring at her in stunned disbelief. She quickly crawled over to him.
“Listen to me, Stryke. Gabriel also said that Chaos’s death wasn’t your fault. Something about Primori. I didn’t understand that part. But he made it clear that Chaos was fated to die that day. There was nothing you could have done to stop it. Nothing.”
He still just stared, blinking, his brain processing. Gently, she reached up and tipped his face to hers.
“Did you hear me? It wasn’t your fault.”
“I can’t believe it,” he whispered, his eyes filling with tears.
His big body shuddered, and she wrapped herself around him, letting him release almost twenty years of trauma.
She held him so tightly she felt every breath, sob, and beat of his heart. Finally, he pulled back from her, his eyes bloodshot but the smile on his face lighting the room.
“I still can’t believe it.”
She looked down at her belly, reveling in a moment of joy after so much tragedy. “Chaos is getting a second chance.”
“So am I, Cyan,” Stryke rasped. “So am I.”