Chapter Sixteen
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Prophet
The call to Blade was two days ago.
Two days of waiting. Two days of listening to the mountain breathe around us while the daylight slipped away far too early and darkness settled over the cabin long before either Lily or I were ready for it.
Too much time to think. Too much time to replay Calix’s words until they echoed through every quiet moment, reminding me of everything Heaven had stripped away.
I told myself my brothers would come.
They always have before.
Yet the closer I came to hearing them in the distance, the harder it became to silence the one question I couldn’t escape.
What if they looked at me and didn’t see their brother anymore?
I had stood beside these men, fought wars with them, buried friends with them, and celebrated victories with them. They had known me as something almost untouchable, a creature forged in Heaven’s grace.
Now I am simply... a man.
My wings are gone.
The light that had lived beneath my skin for millennia has vanished, leaving silver threaded through my hair and an ache in my bones every time the Alaskan cold creeps beneath my coat.
Lily glances up from the rifle she’s been cleaning near the fire. “You’ve been staring out that window for an hour.”
“Have I?”
“You’re wearing a path in the floor.”
“I’ll replace the boards.”
“That wasn’t my concern.”
I look at her, and she holds my gaze for a moment. “They’re coming.”
“I know.”
“Then why do you look ready to throw up?”
“I don’t.”
“Prophet.”
“I’m thinking.”
“That’s usually dangerous.” I turn back to the window because she’s right. I’m fucking terrified. I’ve spent millennia standing between monsters and the people they hunted. I know vigilance, and this isn’t vigilance.
It’s fear.
I’m afraid my brothers will walk through those trees, look at what Heaven left behind, and see a stranger wearing Prophet’s face.
“They’re close.” The words leave my mouth before I realize I’ve spoken.
Lily looks at me. “You can feel them?”
I shake my head. “No.”
Not the way I used to.
Once I’d have known exactly where Blade was, which ridge Ranger was crossing, and whether Fury was already impatient or Rooster had managed to irritate everyone before they reached the mountain.
That connection had existed for so long I’d stopped noticing it was there. Now I fucking notice.
Movement catches my eye.
At first, it’s nothing more than a shadow slipping between snow-laden pines, so perfectly camouflaged I almost convince myself I’ve imagined it. Then the shadow moves again—Ranger.
Even in wolf form, there’s nothing uncertain about him. He doesn’t run. He doesn’t rush. He simply claims the mountain one measured stride at a time, his enormous body gliding through knee-deep snow as though gravity has decided it doesn’t apply to him.
Lily follows my gaze.
“That’s...”
“Ranger.”
“He’s huge.”
A laugh almost escapes me. “Don’t tell him that.”
She blinks. “Why?”
“He already knows.”
The corner of her mouth twitches. It isn’t much. For Lily, it’s practically hysterical laughter.
Ranger reaches the edge of the clearing and stops. His nose lifts.
Once.
Twice.
Then every muscle in that massive gray body locks.
Fuck.
He smells it, or rather, he doesn’t. Whatever Heaven used to leave on me is gone. Ranger’s ears flatten, and a growl rolls through the clearing so low I feel it through the floorboards.
Lily’s hand drops instinctively to the rifle leaning against the wall. “Is that for us?”
“No.”
“You sound very sure.”
“I’ve heard Ranger threaten people.”
The growl deepens.
“That isn’t a threat.”
“What is it?”
I swallow. “He’s trying to figure out what the fuck happened to me.”
Then Ranger lowers himself onto his haunches at the edge of the clearing and waits.
My throat tightens. He isn’t waiting for permission. He’s waiting for Blade. Something about me is setting off every instinct he has, and Ranger trusts his president to make the call.
He knows me. That’s the worst fucking part. He knows exactly who is standing behind the glass, and something about me is wrong enough to make a wolf who has trusted me for a long time to wait for his president before coming closer.
Ranger doesn’t move again.
He remains exactly where he is, sitting at the edge of the clearing with his eyes fixed on me, and somehow that stillness unsettles me more than if he’d come charging across the snow.
Ranger has always trusted his instincts above everything else, and right now, every instinct he possesses is telling him that something is wrong.
The mountain falls silent. Even the wind seems to lose interest in moving through the trees. Then the snow begins to melt. Not everywhere, just a narrow line weaving its way through the forest to the south.
Steam rises in lazy tendrils as drifts collapse into slush, leaving behind dark earth that hasn’t seen daylight in months. The path widens with every passing second, and I don’t need to see him to know exactly who’s coming.
A smile touches my lips before I can stop it.
“Who’s that?” Lily asks.
“Fury.”
She looks from the melting snow to me. “The name suits him?”
I huff a quiet laugh. “You have no idea.”
The trees part, and the enormous black hellhound walks into the clearing with the kind of confidence only Fury possesses.
Heat rolls off him in visible waves, distorting the air around his body until he looks almost unreal, and every pawprint he leaves behind fills instantly with water before freezing into solid ice.
His head is low. He sweeps the clearing once, twice, sees Ranger, sees the tracks leading to the cabin, then sees me.
Fury stops. His ears flatten so suddenly they disappear into the thick black fur around his head, and a sound escapes him that I’ve never heard before. It’s somewhere between a growl and a whine.
“Jesus,” Lily whispers.
“That’s Fury.”
“The Hellhound?”
“Yeah.”
“The name suits him.”
“You have no fucking idea.”
Fury’s head snaps toward the window. He stops. I’ve watched the bastard run straight at things with enough teeth to swallow a man whole. I’ve seen him burn armies out of holes in the earth. Fury does not hesitate. “I’ve never seen him do that,” I murmur.
“Do what?”
“Hesitate.”
Fury takes on step toward the cabin and stops again. His ears flatten, and the sound that comes out of him isn’t a growl.
It fucking breaks me.
I’ve hear Fury furious. I’ve heard him tear into things that should have terrified him. I’ve heard the hellhound in him promise death in a dozen different ways.
But I’ve never heard him make that sound.
Then his gaze travels over me. The silver hair, the weight I’ve lost. The body that no longer carries a trace of Heaven. Whatever he sees finishes the job.
His head snaps back and the roar that rips out of him rattles every window in the cabin.
My vision blurs, and for a moment I can’t breathe.
Lily glances back at me, concern written plainly across her face. “They love you.”
I swallow against the tightness in my throat. “Yeah.”
“They’re devastated.”
“So am I.”
She doesn’t tell me everything will be fine. One of the thousand reasons I’m falling for her.
Before either of us can say another word, a massive shadow moves through the eastern tree line.
Unlike Fury, the Kodiak doesn’t announce himself. He doesn’t need to. Blade has never confused volume with authority.
The enormous bear walks into the clearing with the same quiet confidence I’ve watched him carry into every battle we’ve ever fought, his broad shoulders swaying beneath the weight of the pack strapped across his back. He doesn’t hurry or stop to assess the situation. He simply takes everything in.
Ranger waiting.
Fury standing motionless in the melting snow.
The cabin.
Me.
The bear slows almost imperceptibly.
Only someone who has known Blade as long as I have would notice. Anyone else would think nothing has changed.
I know better.
He sees it.
He understands it.
And just for the briefest moment, the president of the Kings looks tired.
Older than I remember.
As though seeing me standing in that window has added another weight to shoulders already carrying too many, and then he keeps walking.
Because that’s what Blade does. Whatever the fuck is waiting, he walks toward it.
He remains in bear form for another few seconds, his enormous body still as stone while his gaze stays fixed on me, taking in everything Fury already has and probably twice as much besides. Then, almost silently, another figure appears at the edge of the clearing.
There isn’t a flutter of wings or the snap of a branch beneath a boot.
One moment, the space beneath the pines is empty, and the next, Vex is standing there.
Lily draws in a quiet breath beside me.
“I didn’t see him arrive.”
“Most people don’t.”
She studies him for a long moment. “Should that worry me?”
“It worries everyone.”
Vex doesn’t acknowledge Blade or Fury. His pale eyes settle on me with the same unnerving intensity they’ve carried for centuries, seeing far more than I’d ever wanted anyone to see. He has always possessed that gift. While the rest of us notice the obvious, Vex notices the cracks.
His gaze travels slowly over me, lingering for only a heartbeat on the silver threaded through my hair before dropping to the way I unconsciously favor my right side.
Nothing escapes him, nothing ever has. Vex doesn’t look surprised or horrified, and somehow, that’s worse.
He accepts what he sees.
The realization settles heavily in my chest.
He’s already mourning me.
For several long seconds, neither of us moves. We stand there, separated by little more than fresh snow and everything Heaven has taken from me.
Then, almost imperceptibly, he inclines his head.
Not out of respect.
Not a greeting.
Recognition.
I’m still Prophet.
Whatever else has changed, I’m still his brother.
Only then does he move, crossing the clearing with the same impossible silence he’d arrived with, stopping beside Blade.
“Prophet.”
My chest tightens. “Vex.”
His gaze moves over the silver in my hair again. “You look old.”
I stare at him. “Good to see you too, asshole.”