Chapter Eight
“Can we skip training today?” Gideon asked as he stoked the fireplace at the WatchTower. “Between the three of us, we had five missions yesterday. Pretty sure we won’t forget any of our thrust and parry combos if we take a morning to recover.”
Thank God he’d said it. Zavier’s pride wouldn’t allow him to wuss out. But he was beat. Sore. And yeah, just wanted to zone out by the fireplace until the next crisis arose.
In, oh, probably an hour or less.
“You know what that sounds like to me? Like you’re old . Like your bones are creaking worse than the screen on the second-floor porch at home.” Rhys grinned. “Is your fifty-years-younger girlfriend wearing you out?”
Gideon raised his fists. “Come two steps closer. I’ll show you how not worn out I am.”
“Wouldn’t kicking Rhys’s ass technically count as training?” Zavier mumbled.
“Not even a little. I wouldn’t break a sweat.”
“Again, I think I heard that complaint coming from Evangeline just the other day…” Rhys laughed and spun away as Gideon’s leg shot out, barely missing him. Gideon lost his balance and fell over, barely catching himself with his wings before he hit the floor.
Okay, maybe this little show would be worth watching.
His email notification went off with the sound of a bomb dropping.
Rhys and Gideon rushed to his side. “That’s the bomb.”
“Yeah.” This particular notification had only gone off a dozen times since they’d started using smart phones. Those emails always sucked, to say the least. “Gid’s fitting notification for everything incoming with a Hell domain name.” So sloppy of them to use the same domain. Typical of demons, though. Always taking the easiest route.
“What can I say? I’m a genius.” Gideon snorted.
They joked, but it was…disconcerting to get messages from Hell. Like they weren’t juggling enough already?
Zavier tapped it. Held the phone so they could read it together.
My Prisoner ~
You displeased me with your escape. You shall be punished for that, once you are back, cowering beneath my whip.
But I can hurt you before you hang in my shackles. I shall take from you that which you treasure.
Do not worry. You will be reunited after a few…decades…whatever the lifespan of a human…to be tortured together.
Zavier didn’t drop the phone. He also didn’t smash it with the mace hanging on the wall, which was more impressive.
But it was a relief when Gideon slid it out of his hand so that he could make fists so tight it felt like his knuckles would burst through the skin.
“Just to make sure we’re all on the same wavelength,” Gideon pointed with two fingers at his own eyes, then Rhys and Zavier’s, “that unsigned email probably came from Aamon, right?”
“Unless Rhys is into BDSM now,” Zavier muttered. “But the way Maisy screeches when she stubs her toe, I’m guessing she’s not into pain play.”
Gideon shook the phone in the air. “You can joke? The Marquis of Hell who almost destroyed you casually emails and you can make fun of Rhys?”
“I’d have to be more than destroyed not to make fun of Rhys. I’d have to be dead for six weeks.”
Because acting normal was the only way to keep from curling into a ball. Or screaming so loudly that the Nephilim in the WatchTower behind Angel Falls in Venezuela heard him.
“Quiet,” Rhys ordered. He flipped a knife in a triple spin. “Everyone take a breath. We all want to punch something. Let’s work the problem first.”
Calm acceptance slid through Zavier like honey on a sore throat. This was their specialty. Making a plan, shaking off threats. Better to finally be able to deal with it. He’d been looking over his shoulder for three decades, waiting for this day.
“Not a problem. It’s a threat. We always knew Aamon would come after me again. This isn’t a surprise.”
Gideon flipped his hand back and forth. “Kind of is. We rescued you from him over thirty years ago.”
There were some days when it felt like the rescue had only been thirty minutes ago. Although those were fewer and fewer ever since Liss—and Maisy and Eva—joined them. “Aamon started out as a Fallen Angel. Centuries are a…a blink of time to him.”
“Right. I’d hoped that we’d all be long dead before he came gunning for you,” Rhys admitted.
Zavier bared his teeth. “Haven’t you heard? The world might be ending. The apocalypse may be coming. Everyone’s revenge plans are probably sped up.”
“He’s not coming for Z. He’s coming for Liss.” Gideon pointed at the line in the email. “The person he’s going to snatch, ‘that you treasure,’ is Liss.”
The acceptance turned to a sheet of gravel and fire ants against his nerves, burning through his calm.
Liss was no part of this.
“Why target her? She’s just my friend. I have lots of friends.”
Gideon snorted. “You don’t, actually. Irritable asshole that you are.”
“Luckily, you’ve got us, and that’s more than enough.” Rhys sheathed his dagger. “You can also thank your lucky stars that we’re both smarter than you. You told the world that Liss was your girlfriend.”
“Uh, I didn’t. She’s not.” She couldn’t be. Despite the magnificent sex. He did not tell anyone.
Least of all the world. Or Aamon. Or his spies.
“Yeah, you did. Very convincingly. When we went to the Order’s Stronghold. The plan was to make the Nephilim think that Maisy, Eva, and Liss were our girlfriends. The best laid plans…come back and bite you in the ass.”
Fucking shitballs.
His problem, his to fix. Zavier flared his wings. “Then we’ll fly back to the Stronghold tomorrow. Stage a huge breakup. Hell, I’ll let Liss knee me in the balls to sell it.”
“Whoa, there.” Rhys held out his arm like a goddamned crossing guard. “There’ll be no fight.”
“Gotta be.” They couldn’t stop him. This was his responsibility.
Rhys cocked his head to the side. “Twelve hours after getting this email? The timing reeks of desperation. Everyone will know you’re faking.”
Of course. Zavier should’ve thought of that. This message from Aamon was already working, because he was sure as shit off his game.
He disappeared his wings. “We have to do something. Liss is supposed to be safe when she’s with us. Instead, it’s marked her.”
“She is safe when she’s with us. And Maisy, and Evangeline.” Gideon pointed at the many-drawered apothecary chest that held all their potions. “We’ll give her stronger charms. Aamon’s not taking her. Probably won’t even send his lowest minions. He’s posturing. Messing with you.”
Zavier drew what had to be his first full breath since opening the email. “You think?”
Rhys huffed. “Trying to, anyway. Won’t work.” He paused, then winged up one dark eyebrow. “Just like if Gideon tried to get a jump on me—even with my eyes closed—he wouldn’t be able to.”
“I don’t need the element of surprise.” The cocky surety to his trash talk was a specialty of Gideon’s. “I can flatten you to the ground looking you straight in the eye.”
Aww, his friends were going to beat on each other to cheer him up.
“A thousand dollars says you can’t do it three out of five. In ten minutes.”
“I don’t know what’s more insulting: that you think I can’t do it, or the paltry amount of the bet.” Gideon popped out his wings and flew at Rhys.
Rhys somersaulted forward. Stretched to grab the handle of the triangular cinquedea dagger.
A puff of air was the only warning their security had been breached. The other two were swinging fists, but Zavier noticed. Ever since the unexpectedly magical arrival of Liss with that damned ring in the armory, he’d doubled down on defenses. So he was certain that whoever had entered was a friend.
Friend ly .
Nevertheless, he jumped up and grabbed a dagger from the coffee table.
“You boys are still clowning around? Isn’t it time you grew up?” It was the head trainer of the Right and Holy Seraphic Order of the Nephilim , Master Caraxis.
He’d suddenly appeared through their waterfall portal. All Nephilim could use the portals in every waterfall. The ones into the watchtowers, though? Got you inside and about a square foot of breathing space, and no more.
A few months ago, they’d kept him waiting out there as an indication of how pissed they were about the big secrets he’d kept from them. But now, they were all trying to save the world together, so they’d granted him full access.
Zavier still wasn’t thrilled about that. Had to compromise, though, to get intel. The trust between them wasn’t anywhere close to absolute, as far as he was concerned. It was more…probationary. Besides. Caraxis showing up just minutes after he got that email from Hell? What were the chances?
Caraxis looked average enough. Longish silver hair coupled with his belted tunic and breeches pegged him as a stocky elf extra for The Rings of Power . He mostly remained at the Nephilim stronghold, so he hadn’t bothered upgrading his wardrobe over the last five centuries.
There was still a bomber jacket in Zavier’s closet from 1957. So who was he to judge the guy?
But his movie-extra appearance didn’t reveal the eons of wisdom and tautly leashed power in the fallen angel. Zavier still didn’t intend to give him an inch.
“You’re on our turf now, Master. We’re the only ones who can make fun of each other in this WatchTower.”
Silvery hair fell around his face as Caraxis nodded. Whether in apology or just acknowledgment of the demand for respect, it was a huge step forward. “I wasn’t making fun. I was genuinely casting judgment.”
“Should’ve known,” Gideon muttered.
“Why waste your energy roughhousing? When you might have to go out on another call at any second?”
“We call it training,” Rhys said smoothly. “Catching each other unawares outside of a set training protocol more accurately mirrors the unexpected nature of real-life attacks.”
Oh, that was some brilliant bullshit right there.
“So you’ve come uninvited. As usual. You know, those two have girlfriends now.” Zavier hooked a thumb at his friends. “You keep showing up uninvited, you might accidentally fly in on some Kama Sutra –level fun and games. Keep that in mind.”
The angel disappeared his iridescent white wings. “I was an angel before I became one of the Fallen, Zavier Carranza. It is not an overstatement to say that I have seen it all. Twice.”
Caraxis was making an effort . He never joked unless he wanted something. Could this day get any more complicated?
And, more to the point, how dangerous would this favor be for them? Zavier was only willing to risk so much.
Especially since the one time Rhys and Gideon asked Caraxis for a favor—to help locate and rescue Zavier—he turned them fucking down .
Zavier waved at the couch in front of the fireplace. “Go ahead and take a seat. Unless you’ve come with legit intel that the world is going to end tomorrow.”
In which case he’d kick the master out and go find Liss. Not even for sex—although he wouldn’t say no if she put it on the table. But she’d be scared. He wouldn’t let her go through it alone.
He didn’t want to examine that thought too closely.
Caraxis unbuckled his sword belt and propped it in the corner. “No pleasantries? No offers of a beverage?”
The mere fact that Caraxis had disarmed himself had Zavier reeling. That level of vulnerability did not get widely shared among Nephilim , let alone with the three who’d thumbed their noses at the institution. “Since when do you want either?”
“Since our recent interactions have shown me how useful you are. And how churlish I’ve been.”
That was the understatement of the decade. When he’d trained them, he rode them mercilessly. When they worked for him, same. Once they quit? He used them on the absolute worst missions that he didn’t want to lose his official fighters on (or ones they’d already failed).
To Zavier’s surprise, Gideon joined the much older man on the couch. “Your job’s to train the most elite fighting force on the planet. One with inhuman powers. You have to keep a stick up your ass to keep us in line.”
Ah. He was playing nice, too. The schmoozing that Gid and Rhys did so well, and Zavier never even bothered to try. He didn’t believe in wasting his time being fake. Which frustrated his business partners a lot.
He made up for it by being the best fighter of the three. You save a guy’s life a dozen times or more a year? They were willing to overlook an aversion to bullshit.
“That is kind of you.” A smile flickered across his lips, quick as a blink. “And true.”
Rhys pushed over the mug of coffee he’d yet to touch. “Here you go. Brewed with beans we picked up in Hawaii after taking down a nest of Ibwa s.”
The crack of Caraxis’s neck was audible as his head flew up. “A nest? They usually hunt solo. When you feed strictly on dead bodies, you’re disinclined to share.”
“So the stories go. But this was a definite pack.” Gideon shrugged. “Or whatever you call a group of Filipino zombie vampires. A cloak? A gaggle?”
“Maisy would know.” And damned if Rhys didn’t sound smug as he said it. The man was head over heels in love with her.
Caraxis held up his index finger. “I’d prefer if you keep this visit private. No need to rouse the Keeper.”
“I don’t keep things from her.”
“Same with me and Evangeline.” Gideon spread his arm wide to include Zavier. “We’re all a team. No secrets.”
“You can do as you choose once I leave. I’m simply…uncomfortable sharing celestial secrets in front of people I barely know.”
“Fair enough.”
Caraxis shifted the copious folds of his tunic to withdraw a scroll. The Order did like to stick to protocol and traditions. “Here is the sign-up list for your tournament. I assumed you’d want to review the names prior to your arrival at the Stronghold.”
Riiiight. When they’d have to take Liss with them right back into the thick of danger. Aamon had to have spies at the Stronghold. Damn it—it wasn’t fair that she’d be more unsafe surrounded by half-angels sworn to protect humanity.
Rhys unrolled it. Arrowed up an eyebrow. “Looks like a mix of those we respect, those we dislike, and those we don’t know. Hard to tell if they want to prove they’re better than us for bragging rights, kick our asses on general principles, or use it to talk to us about the coup.”
“This was never going to be a simple plan, Rhys Boyce. It is, however, a good one.”
Gideon scanned it. “What’s interesting are the names not on the list. Either they’ve got a well-developed sense of self-preservation, or they’re involved in this up to their knees.”
Zavier didn’t care one way or the other. They’d fight, and in the fighting, learn at least something. Talking it to death beforehand wouldn’t change the outcome. Which was a comment his friends had heard from him repeatedly during mission prep.
Rhys rolled it back up, then saluted with it. “This could give us an advantage. We didn’t ask for it, so we thank you.”
“Good.” With a studied casualness, Caraxis sipped at the coffee. “Five of my Nephilim were killed. Set up and then stalked at a waterfall portal by a pack of leopard demons.”
Shit.
The body count was rising again. They’d assumed that killing Pestilence would only slow things down for a while. But when it came to eternal beings, they’d hoped “a while” meant more than a few months.
“I’m sorry,” Rhys said in a flat tone. “Every loss cuts deep.”
“Are you willing to let me in on your theory yet? What this mysterious ‘they’ might be in ‘up to their knees?’”
Aha. This was clearly the real reason he’d made the trip to the WatchTower. To worm out of them everything they’d discovered. That was more in character.
Well, one thing he sure as hell wasn’t learning about was Aamon’s email. Zavier refused to give him the chance to turn them down again .
“Don’t use air quotes. Ever. You’re about a millennium too old to pull it off,” Zavier sneered. Had he just ruined whatever softening up Gid had manufactured with his sympathetic schmoozing?
Too freaking bad.
That damned email had him off his game. Already combative. Ready to pop off. You’d think that after more than sixty years, he’d be less reactionary when it came to Aamon.
Yeah… no .
“If we told you our working theory about why Nephilim and Keepers are being murdered, it could put you at risk.” Gideon took a breath, spread his hands, palms up, and continued. “If you…can’t control yourself when you discover the truth about other celestials.”
Holy hell, that was an incendiary accusation. Zavier fully agreed—he was just surprised that easygoing Gideon had been the one to draw the line in the sand for the Fallen Angel.
This could be fun.
Or the older man might try to blow them up and the WatchTower…
Actual silver sparks spit from the whirling of his gray eyes. They fell with a sizzle to the floor. A wall of flames completely filled the fireplace. Caraxis half rose from his seat, a hand upraised in warning. “I trained all of you!” The thunder of his voice shook the furniture. Weapons clanged off the walls. “I made you, and I can still break you.”
“The hell you can.” Rhys crossed his arms. His mouth turned down, as if he’d eaten five-month-old yogurt. Left sitting in the noon sun. In August. In Rwanda.
From the corner of his eye, Zavier saw the usually straight Niagara Falls bow out a little, away from the force of the angel. Good thing it was November and the tourist boats weren’t running, or they’d have been capsized.
Even better thing that Liss wasn’t here to catch any of his blowback.
Caraxis straightened the rest of the way to shake his fist overhead. “I jousted with Heaven itself.”
Like that was something to brag about? Zavier was done with this posturing. “Yeah—and you lost . You’re Fallen. Or you’d still be up there, fat-catting it in the clouds and not sullying yourself with contact with a single Nephilim .”
Caraxis moved to stand in front of the swirling tornado of fire. He faced it for a moment, rubbing his hands together. The fire diminished to normal. The furniture settled. Niagara Falls straightened out. When he turned back around, his eyes no longer sparked at all.
In fact, lines tugged down from them and around his mouth. “Let me help. Please.” His voice was softer now, but still as intense as a laser burst. “I care too much about seeing any more Nephilim or Keepers murdered.”
See? That’d be a damned good reason to share info…if it was believable. If he’d led with it.
Zavier, however, saw through the act. Knew that none of it was true, from deeply personal experience. Which pissed him off to no end.
“Really?” Zavier hurled at him. “You didn’t seem to give two shits when I was kidnapped. You chose to leave me alone to be tortured and almost killed.”
Hell.
He’d never intended to throw that in his face. Walking away from the Order was enough. Momentous enough, for sure, as they were the first ones to ever quit it.
It felt good, though, to finally say it.
The angel’s wings flared. Just for a second, and not all the way. More of a shadow reveal of them. Which proved that Zavier had gotten to him. It was unacceptably bad form to ever let your wings accidentally show. “That’s not true.”
For fuck’s sake.
Zavier didn’t care if it earned him a power burst to the chest that tossed him out of the WatchTower. A push of his wings put him right in front of Caraxis. He fisted the man’s tunic and dragged him up to his toes.
“Stop,” he growled. “The only reason I’m alive is thanks to Rhys and Gideon, not you. If you pretend otherwise, here, to my face, I won’t hold back.”
And, as always, Rhys had his back. He’d popped a dagger into his palm and had the tip of it at Caraxis’s neck. “Don’t bother lying to us. Gideon and I came to you, in your office. We begged you to assign others to search with us. You not only turned us down, but you threatened us.”
Gideon flanked Zavier, his dagger at the opposite carotid. “Yeah. With the always ephemeral grave consequences if we searched for Zavier ourselves.”
The angel could have blown them off of him. Could’ve tried, anyway. But he didn’t. Didn’t flinch, either. “Our lack of action was…regrettable. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I wish I could have participated in the search myself. Sent every member of the Order out to find you. However, it was a direct order to not interfere or help in any way. From on high.”
Caraxis fucking led the Order. He didn’t take commands from anyone except for full-fledged celestials. And he couldn’t say no to them.
This was game-changing information.
It filtered all of his perceptions of Caraxis through an entirely different light, too. It explained why he hadn’t fought the three of them quitting the Order. Caraxis had done them a favor with that. Same with how he kept hiring them. He’d been doing his best this whole time to still look out for them.
Years, decades of bitterness just dropped away.
Almost.
He’d be an idiot—and he’d always regret it—if he didn’t check. Despite seeing the pure sincerity shining in those gray eyes. Zavier let go of Caraxis. All three Nephilim stepped back. “Is that true?”
“Yes.”
Well, then.
Amazing how his captivity decades ago tied into the attempts at a coup today. Of course, to an archangel, even centuries were a blip.
All the pieces clicked into place. “Tell me who gave that order to abandon me, and we’ll tell you everything we think we’ve figured out. No, wait—let me give you a hint. Was it an archangel?”
“You know,” the master said in a low, hollow voice. He even staggered backward a few steps, putting a hand out blindly to catch himself on the wall.
“I do know. I think, anyway.” They’d guessed that an archangel had to be involved, once one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse were released. Lucifer himself had pointed them in that direction. They’d spent the weeks since then narrowing down the possibilities.
Tracking the movement of archangels was impossible. Evangeline’s research at the Order’s library had revealed the engagement of certain archangels with both humanity and demons. That had given them a good start.
“It was Auriel,” Caraxis stated in a low, hollow tone.
Zavier glanced at Rhys and Gideon. They both gave the nod. There was no longer any question of doubting or trusting Caraxis fully.
“That’s one of the archangels we’ve zeroed in on. He’s trying to stage a coup.”
“He doesn’t have the power,” Caraxis scoffed.
“He will.” Here went nothing. “Once he releases the Titans from Tartarus. He fancies himself a kingmaker. Plus, he’s teamed up with a demon lord. Our best guess is that it’s Astaroth, but we’ve still got a few other names in the mix.”
Caraxis paced the length of their forcefield onto Niagara, hands clasped behind his back. Zavier didn’t rush him. It was a lot to absorb.
It had been a lot for them, at only eighty-seven.
Caraxis had eons of working with Auriel. He’d witnessed the Titanomachy, seen the destruction savaged upon the earth. First, when Cronus cut off the genitals of his father, Uranus, with the sickle they now kept one floor down. And then when Zeus and the Olympians rose up against Cronus and the Titans in the ten-year war.
He could no doubt picture vividly the fallout upon humanity and celestials if Auriel and Astaroth succeeded in their coup.
Finally, Caraxis sank onto the couch and rested his elbows on his knees, steeping his fingers. “This is…very bad.”
Zavier let a sardonic chuckle escape. Because he could either laugh or…hide in a cave in the fetal position. He quite enjoyed laughing in the face of mortal danger. “No shit.”
“Good and Evil working together? That might just be enough to breach Tartarus. As much as I don’t want to believe you, it is quite plausible.”
Gideon retook the seat next to him. “That’s why the Nephilim and Keepers have been murdered. They want to decimate the ranks of any who could put up a fight. It’s why they let loose one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.”
“We don’t know if there are more. If they have a whole damned team—or army.” Rhys winced. “Our only hope of successfully thwarting this coup is to get everyone involved.”
Now the master rested his forehead on his fingers, clearly shaken to the bone. “That’s why you didn’t want to risk telling me. I could’ve been in on it. After all, who questions the orders of an archangel?”
“Yeah.” Zavier grabbed his mug and chugged most of the coffee. Not that he needed the caffeine hit anymore. This conversation had chased away all his lethargy. He needed to fight, to strike a blow against all the creatures endangering humankind.
“But once I said that an archangel ordered me to leave you to die…that was confirmation.”
“Yeah. It could’ve been an attempt to just vanquish the strongest members of the Order. Or it could’ve been Auriel handing out a reward to his demon partner.” God, even saying it left a taste of ash in his mouth.
Caraxis jerked his head up. “It’s Astaroth, you said? Astaroth is as powerful a Hell creature as Auriel is a celestial.”
“We know,” Gideon said drily. “That’s why we’re playing everything so close to the vest. It isn’t just to annoy the shit out of you.”
“Well, you succeeded on both counts.” A twitch of his lips was close to a grin. “What do you need from me? Because I will give you anything in my power. Reveal to you all I know.”
Rhys let out a long, slow breath. Shoved his hand through his dark hair. “That’s…alarmingly helpful. Guess that means we’re on the right track?”
“I fear yes. I fear…so much…with what you’ve said.” Caraxis sat back. Balanced his ankle on his knee, then patted his thighs. “Tell me everything. And I shall do the same.”
It was better than training. At least they got to sit.
But when an angel —even a Fallen—got scared? It added a whole new dimension to the stakes of this unnamed, undercover war they were fighting, pretty much solo, to save humanity.
Good times.