Prologue #2
Reaching for one of her most powerful weapons, she blasted the mordaemon with a stream of molten Heavenly lightning.
The air went still and heavy with electricity as the demon lit up from the inside, its skin sizzling, its eyes smoking.
The thing’s body swelled, vibrating the atmosphere so violently that stones broke free from the cliffs and tumbled to the shore.
Then, in a whoosh of flame, it winked out of the human realm and back to Hell, where it belonged.
In the distance, the island’s alarm bells rang out. Reinforcements would arrive within seconds. But that was too long.
Oh, Scotty, please, please be okay…
Frantically, Harvester scoured the beach for any sign of the child, picking through the broken bodies of the dead and dying ghastbats and the shredded remains of the unfortunate hellhound.
Nothing.
Nothing, dammit!
But over near an outcropping of boulders, another hellhound crouched on the beach, injured and bleeding, snapping at the eagle-sized bats as they attacked from above. And sticking out from beneath the hound’s massive body, a skinny, pale arm, lying limp on the hot sand.
No!
Harvester banked hard and crash-landed on the beach next to the beast. It swung its shaggy head around with a surprised snarl, its jaws dripping with ghastbat blood and ragged bits of their black flesh.
“It’s just me, you mangy mutt!” Hastily, she zapped ghastbats out of the sky with bolts of lightning, clearing the airspace for a protective force field. It only took a couple of heartbeats to secure an evil-proof dome above them, but it wouldn’t last for long.
The hellhound, whose name she thought was Ogre, lurched to his feet on unsteady legs, lifting his body off the tiny one he protected.
Scotty lay lifeless on the ground, the sand soaking up her blood as it drained through dozens of deep, gaping wounds. Shattered bone and organs spilled out of the gashes. But as bad as all the injuries were, one wound stood out, filling Harvester with icy fingers of dread.
The ragged punctures in her ribs, oozing with green fluid, were from the mordaemon.
A cry escaped Harvester as she fell to her knees and gathered the child’s limp body into her arms. Scotty’s life force, so weak that Harvester could barely feel it, faded to almost nothing and began to flicker.
There was no time. Not even enough to get Scotty to Underworld General. Not that they could do anything.
She was going to die. The mordaemon had seen to that.
“No, baby,” Harvester croaked. “I won’t let you.”
Ruthlessly ignoring the sounds of battle all around her, Harvester reached deep inside herself and seized her very essence. What she was about to do was forbidden. A grievous offense.
She didn’t care. There was nothing she wouldn’t do for Reaver and his family.
Tears rolled down her face as she drew out a tiny strand of her Grace and channeled it into Scotty.
For a moment, nothing happened. The Grace seemed lost, meandering around inside the girl’s spiritual body, unable to connect with her soul. Was it too late?
A hellhound released a mournful howl, its haunting call sending a chill up Harvester’s spine. Was it sad about its dead packmate, or did it sense that Scotty was on the verge of death?
Please, no. Please!
As if she’d heard Harvester’s plea, Scotty gasped, and her bloodless face filled with color. It worked.
A sob of relief escaped Harvester as she cut off the flow of Grace. She’d given Scotty a minuscule amount—a mere hundredth of a percent of Harvester’s total well of power, perhaps.
Not enough for any other angel to sense it inside the girl. She hoped.
Reaver would likely sense the loss inside Harvester, but he’d approve of what she’d done. Scotty would have died without the infusion.
Now, Harvester’s Grace was part of her, woven into her life force. Scotty would be more powerful and resilient than before.
But…and it was a big but, should Harvester’s Grace ever be taken from Scotty, she would die. A mordaemon’s bite was always fatal.
In Harvester’s arms, the child stirred as her body healed.
Loud groans turned to soft whimpers as her bones knitted together, and the gashes in her flesh sealed.
Harvester knew too well that the healing process was sometimes more agonizing than the initial injury, and she held Scotty tightly, doing her best to ease her thrashing.
Eventually, Scotty quieted, and her big, hazel-green eyes blinked open.
“G-ma?” Scotty looked around, seemingly confused by the sight of ghastbats dive-bombing the hellhound reinforcements charging down the cliffside. “What happened?”
“I don’t know, sweetheart. But we’re safe.
” Even more hellhounds phased onto the beach to join the massacre, so many that the sand disappeared beneath the writhing, slashing beasts.
Screeches of rage and pain filled the air as the hounds tore the ghastbats apart, though not always before losing a chunk of flesh or suffering a pierced eyeball.
How had the ghastbats and mordaemon gotten here? “Can you tell me what happened?”
Scotty wriggled out of Harvester’s arms and scrambled to her feet, her little fists clenched defiantly, as if she wanted to take on the creatures herself. “The monsters came. What are they?”
“They’re called ghastbats.” Harvester watched two hounds rip one in half during a round of tug-of-war. “They normally live in Sheoul. I don’t know why they’re here or where they came from.”
Scotty’s face turned bright red, and she looked down at her feet.
Shit. Harvester reached out and took the girl’s hand. “Scotty?”
“They…they came out of the Harrowgate,” she whispered.
Alarm stabbed Harvester right in the heart. A gate malfunction could expose the entire island to the worst kinds of demons. Her family would be in incredible danger.
“They flew out of the gate by themselves?” That shouldn’t be possible. Ghastbats couldn’t operate the controls.
“It’s not my fault,” Scotty cried, yanking her hand out of Harvester’s. “She told me to open it. I thought it was going to be a surprise!”
The hair on the back of Harvester’s neck stood up as her wings shot out and lifted her to her feet. Fear made her voice harsh. “Who told you to open it?”
Scotty buried her face in her hands. “My friend,” she mumbled between sniffles.
“Your invisible one?” At Scotty’s nod, a frisson of suspicion skittered across the surface of Harvester’s mind.
Dammit. This was exactly why she’d told Ares and Cara to get a handle on the invisible-friend situation.
Invisible friends might be common coping mechanisms for human children, but immortal children, especially those with powerful parents, were at high risk of being targeted by supernaturals with evil intentions.
“Listen to me, Scotty,” she said. “This person is not your friend.”
Scotty started bawling, and Harvester, who rarely experienced guilt, felt her heart squeeze painfully hard. “I’m sorry, sweetie. But she’s not—”
“I know!” Scotty shouted. “She made those things attack me. I jumped off the cliff to escape, but I don’t remember what happened after that.”
She sniffed and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “Lilu said…she said, ‘Goodbye, you snot-nosed insect.’” Her lower lip trembled. “She’s mean.”
She was also as good as dead once Harvester got a hold of the bitch. This Lilu person must—
Harvester’s train of thought took an abrupt detour at a sudden, devastating suspicion. “Did you say, Lilu? That’s her name?”
Scotty slapped her hand across her mouth. “She told me not to tell,” she mumbled.
Of course, she had. Lilu wouldn’t have wanted anyone to research that foul name. A name that harkened back to Mesopotamian demon times. A name whose female form, Lilitu, was eventually translated.
Into Lilith.
Lilith.
Fury steamed through Harvester’s veins. But it didn’t make sense.
Lilith had died years ago, and her soul was sent to Sheoul-gra a couple of years before the purgatory’s destruction.
Yes, Azagoth had demolished Sheoul-gra and released billions of demonic spirits to wage war, but surely he hadn’t been stupid enough to release Lilith.
Not when the responsible thing would have been to destroy her soul.
But then, the Grim Reaper had been inconsolable and irrational when his very pregnant wife disappeared, kidnapped by an enemy bent on vengeance. He would have used every powerful demon he controlled to get her back…including Lilith.
Shit. If Lilith was alive—corporeal—again, that bitch would want to take revenge on her Horsemen offspring. And how better to torture them than to kill their children?
Harvester thought about the time her grandson, Logan, son of the Horseman known as Death, had been attacked by a demonic storm. If not for a hellhound protector, he might have died.
Had that been Lilith’s work as well? Had she found a way to contact Scotty through some sort of telepathy? She could have been tricking the girl for months. Maybe even longer, if Scotty hadn’t been truthful about how long she’d had an “invisible friend.”
“It’s okay, Scotty.” Harvester sent a wave of lightning bolts at a swarm of ghastbats, watching them fall from the sky. “I’m going to get rid of Lilu for you, okay?”
The green flecks in Scotty’s eyes glittered darkly. “Are you going to kill her?”
My, my, she was a bloodthirsty little thing, wasn’t she? So like Harvester.
“Eventually, my dear. I promise you, she will die for what she’s done. But right now, I’m going to block her from your mind.” She started to reach into Scotty’s head, but the little girl grabbed her wrist in an iron grip.
“Please don’t tell Mommy and Daddy.”
Harvester rarely experienced moral dilemmas. She’d spent too much time as a fallen angel to waste her energy on deciding what was wrong or right. She just did what was best for her and those she loved, ethics be damned.
But in this case, she didn’t know what was best.
She desperately wished Reaver were here to help, but wishing was a waste of time. She could spare a few seconds to curse the angels who had confined her mate to Heaven, though.
“Please,” Scotty begged. “I don’t want them to know I’m so dumb.”
“You aren’t dumb, sweetheart.”
“Yes, I am.” She wiped her runny nose with the back of her hand again. “Aleka’s the smart one. That’s why I must be good at fighting, like Mace and Blade. I need to protect Aleka while she reads her dusty old books.” When she blinked her big, watery eyes at Harvester, her heart melted.
“Please, G-ma. They can’t know I opened a gate.”
They couldn’t know Harvester had given Scotty some of her Grace, either.
Grace, in very small amounts, was only to be sacrificed to humans.
Too much could go wrong when an angel’s essence was injected into supernaturals.
And if the recipient of the Grace turned evil, it could provide a conduit for evil into the donor angel, and even into Heaven itself.
If anyone learned of the truth, Scotty would be targeted by angels who would steal the Grace for themselves, or by demons who prized Grace as one of the rarest, most powerful spell-casting elements.
It was such a tiny amount. Undetectable. No one will know. And she’ll be stronger for it. So, it’s a good thing.
“I’ll tell you what,” Harvester said. “They’re going to know something happened. That can’t be changed. But they don’t need to know that you got hurt, okay?” At least, they didn’t need to know the full extent of Scotty’s injuries. She was fine, and there was no sense in freaking them out.
Scotty’s eyes narrowed as she considered her options. “They’re going to be mad at me for opening the gate.”
“Perhaps,” Harvester murmured, but she knew they’d be far more upset that someone, probably Lilith, had gotten to one of their daughters.
Maybe Harvester should put a mind shield on all her grandchildren.
Because if Lilith really was responsible, she wasn’t going to give up.
Not ever.