The Bastard (40 page)

Dr. Maddox had tossed a sheet over the angel’s behind but Annie rolled it down to reveal even more red-crusted skin. Training kicked in and she didn’t question as words slipped from her tongue.

“I’m just washing you off. You’re too beautiful to be dirty. You know, I wanted to believe in angels, in God, but I see so much pain, so much hurting, it’s hard at times. But you’re here and you’re real. I can’t believe it, but I’m standing right here and I see you. It’s like a miracle.”

Water wrung from the cloth, the drops sounding loud in the hushed room.

“I thought Zale was lying at first, but I couldn’t explain what I saw him do. So when he spoke of angels, I wanted to believe that, too. I couldn’t say no when he asked for my help.”

Annie’s eyes went wide as one tiny scratch healed before her eyes. The larger more deadly wounds would take time, of course, but even they began to lose the harsh redness of new injuries. Blue bruises darkened, turned green and yellow then faded to clear, golden skin. Annie swallowed.

“Let’s get some of that blood out of your hair, okay? You have enough to worry about without your scalp itching as it dries.” She emptied and refilled the small plastic tub once more. She couldn’t find a comb anywhere so dug into her own purse. “I promise I don’t have lice or cooties or anything like that.”

Slowly, doing her best to not pull or tug, Annie washed and combed the long hair to a smooth shine. All the while, she kept a running commentary, commenting on how pretty the hair was, how Zale came to her for help, how he was annoying and brusque but also kind of shy in an awkward way. She was threading the comb through one last long piece when she realized the angel’s eyes were open and watching her.

For six loud heartbeats, Annie froze, caught by the rainbow stare. She sat, bringing her level with her patient’s face. “I’m Annie, Lacy’s sister.”

“I know who you are, woman.” Her voice was scratchy, hoarse from healing. “I am called Sela.”

“Sela,” Annie murmured.

“Where are my men?”

“They went to save Lacy. Zale said she’d been taken by the Third. Is that right? The Third?”

“I need to be with them.” Frail yet defined arms struggled to push her body up.

“Oh no, you can’t.” Annie jerked to her feet. “You’re hurt.”

“They need me.”

“They’ll need you whole and healed. Look, Dr. Maddox said you can heal yourself but you need time. Give yourself the time so you can really help them and not hinder them.”

Sela lowered back to the mattress, her arms shaking and sweat dotting her forehead. “You didn’t need to come here. Zale had no right to ask this of you.”

“I’m glad he did. You’re all doing so much to keep Lacy safe. This is just a little way to help repay that. I wanted to help.”

She swiped the cool cloth over the angel’s face. Sela’s eyes fluttered then stayed closed, her body sinking into relaxation. Annie brushed her fingertips along her cheek. “Just rest. I’ll be right here if you need something.”

Healing quiet filled the room. Settling into a recliner beside the bed, Annie just watched the angel sleep. Ten minutes passed. Almost all of the small bruises had faded now. Only the deepest, darkest ones remained. The gruesome cuts began to knit closed.

A steady beep filled the left corner of the room. The alarm. Zale had instructed her to call him immediately if the machine went off or if anything happened. She wasn’t supposed to believe anything anyone who appeared said to her, not even if he claimed to be God himself.

Fear tripped icy fingers down her spine as she lunged for her cell. A shadow fell across her hand and she looked up, praying it was Zale or one of the others. It wasn’t.

A bloody knife, needles and other medical paraphernalia cluttered the sink, waiting to be sanitized and repackaged. Annie dove, snagged the blade and brandished it like a sword. “Get out of here!”

“Peace be to you woman. I mean you no harm.” He was possibly the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen but a dark bruise circled his left eye. Those swirling kaleidoscope eyes were kind until they fell on Sela then they went flat. “What did they do to her?”

“I said get out!” Annie stood between him and the bed, shielding Sela with her body. Behind her back, she fumbled with her cell, turning it on with her thumb. She pressed the number two.

“I need to see her.”

The male angel carried a leather satchel over his shoulder. The strap pulled on the neckline of his red sleeveless robe but didn’t interfere with the creamy wings folded at his back. It also didn’t touch the long, silver sword hanging at his hip.

Her palm was sweaty on the knife handle but she tightened her fingers. Was she really standing between two messengers of God? Just because he claimed to be an angel and looked like an angel didn’t mean he
was
an angel. He could be lying. All she really knew was the woman behind her was hurt. It was enough for her. She widened her stance and lifted the knife higher. “Go away.”

“Let me help her. I am Michael.”

“Michael? Like Archangel Michael from the Bible?”

“Yes.” His smile was dazzling. “Put down your blade.”

“Not a chance. Leave.”

Determination thinned his lips as he strode forward. “I’m afraid that isn’t possible.”

“Fuck me, this is one huge hole.” Dray leaned over the low stone railing, staring down into the smoke-spitting crater.

Sulfur overpowered everything, the scorched scent seeping into Vike’s skin within seconds of dematerializing in Masaya, Nicaragua. Centuries of volcanic activity had saturated the ground until not even the stiffest breeze could whisk the stench away. Smoke rolled from the crater in a thick plume. Thin lines of iridescence cut through the rock and sparkled when the wind drew the smoke away long enough for the sun to touch them. Dead center was a pit of glowing orange. High on the rocks, a slender cross cast a shadow that stretched along the ugly scar in the Earth.

There were only a handful of tourists and Nomad sent them away easily enough, pretending to be a Masaya National Park ranger. Once the parking lot cleared out, he Leaped down and closed the main entrance gate. Vike scoured the crater rim but found no signs of the Third. Part of him wished they would appear just so he could rid his body of this gnawing guilt. Destruction was a soothing balm he’d used for centuries until he was almost numb. It’d taken a
valkyrja
with a tender touch to thaw his heart and he’d failed her when she needed him most.

“Please tell me we’re not diving into a lava bath.” Rex frowned. “Extra-crispy is not my best look.”

“The Watchers wrote that the Scionim sleeps in the fiery cave of Nindiri, near the Mouth of Hell. That’s Nindiri.” Their eyes followed the path of Zale’s long finger, pointing down into the crater. “There’s a hidden cave down there somewhere.”

Dray hung his head with a groan. “Why can’t Samael use a nice storage locker like a normal person?”

Zale scowled then disappeared. Vike followed, Leaping down into the smoky pit. The black rocks beneath his boots were brittle, crumbling to dust under his weight. The surface wasn’t flat. Dips and swells pock-marked the Earth to show where the volcanic activity had strained the ground. Heat baked them, shimmering in a fine sheen of sweat on everyone’s skin.

Not needing directions, they all set out to search for the cave. Colors of gold, silver, blue, red and green snaked through the layers of rock, some glistening in the sun. Vike coughed and spat dark-colored spit to the ground. Above, posted warning signs encouraged tourists to limit exposure to fifteen minutes. Down in the crater, the noxious fumes would have killed any human by now. For his team, they all just coughed and spit, fighting the headache the burning chemical smoke inflicted.

“Found it,” shouted Nomad twenty minutes later, waving his arms to draw their attention. Omen sat at his feet, his canine focus locked on the striated rock. They all ran to him, not Leaping, and Vike wondered if his team needed the outlet of energy as much as he did.

A finger-wide crack in the crater slope arched from the floor to over their head, curved then shot straight down again. A beetle crawled from the demarcation, hinting there was more than solid stone behind it. Vike called his axe, wedging the head into the split. Once he’d moved it an inch, Myth and Dray pulled the rock away to reveal a crude entrance, more crawl space than doorway.

A loud chirp whipped all their heads around. Myth’s illegal and highly functional signal booster on the phone stuck out like a thumb as Zale stared at the display. “It’s Annie. H2Q has an intruder.”

“Go!” Vike urged. “We’ll handle this.”

Zale gave one brisk nod. “Rex, you’re with me.”

“Sweet, let’s go kill something.”

The two Leaped without another word.

The cramped opening expanded into a long tunnel with beams of solid granite. Samael didn’t want to risk nature caving in on his soul-bank account. The stonework was man-made and trapped them inside the cave. The smell was sharp, putrid and so thick they all gagged. Nomad shone a flashlight overhead, judging the soaring distance. A swarm of squeaking wings dive-bombed them before funneling toward the now enlarged entrance.

“Vampire bats,” muttered Myth. “Dray, control your groupies, will you?”

Dray spat in his direction. They all called weapons and braced for battle as they walked further into the Mouth of Hell.

Sweat trickled down Vike’s spine and he wriggled his fingers, getting a better grip on his ax. The ring he hadn’t removed dug into his skin and his lip curled. History called him evil, a killer, a heartless bastard who murdered for gain. He’d long ago accepted that, but now he embraced the reputation. He had every intention of bathing in Leech blood and dust if that’s what it took to rescue Lacy’s soul.

They crossed under seven granite arches before coming to a darkened hole in the wall. Vike’s heartbeat thudded in his ears. Nomad took point, flicking the flashlight over the small room before using a lighter to light a wall torch. Fire glow danced over walls lined in shelves, all holding cut crystal boxes full of dust reverently spaced and placed in perfect formation.

Other torches quickly blazed to light and they stood in stunned amazement. Vike did some fast math. Three walls, five shelves per wall, eight boxes per shelf. One hundred and twenty sleeping Scion souls. But which box was Lacy’s?

“Vike.” Myth motioned with his head toward the upper shelf on the right wall.

One box stood out. No dust covered the lid and it wasn’t the clear glass of the others. This one was deep red, a color fitting for the last Chief Samael needed. Lacy. His throat clenched as salt stung his eyes.

“We can’t leave the rest here,” Nomad insisted.

No one had anticipated so large a collection of Scion souls. And this was only one holding place. The shock of how close Samael was to his goal sent a silent ripple of dread through the cavern. Digging into their pockets, they pooled soul-bags. Seventy-nine. Far short of what they needed and couldn’t count on being able to return with more.

Once he knew the site had been discovered, Samael would hide his treasure once more. How could they decide which souls to save and which to leave in torment?

“First, get Lacy.” Grim lines surrounded Nomad’s mouth. “Work from left to right and start bagging. Get every box you can.”

Vike lifted Lacy’s box from the top shelf. This was his fault. “I’ll keep you safe, Lace. I swear on my very soul. I won’t fail you again.”

“I said stay back!”

Michael glared. “Woman, I grow tired of your hysterics.”

“Then get out of here.” Annie stood her ground.

Michael took a step and she closed her eyes, swinging the blade as hard as she could. He jumped back. “Do not force me to harm you.”

“No, Michael!” Zale rushed into the room. Another man came with him, one with short blond hair and a snarl like a feral animal. Both men wielded swords and fitted their feet into wide fighting stances.

Michael’s handsome face creased in contempt. “I don’t have time for your arrogance, Azazael. She needs me.”

“I need you like a dog needs rabies,” Sela mumbled.

Annie dropped the knife and helped Sela roll over. She punched the handheld controller and raised the head of the bed. Snagging a thin hospital gown from the bottom cabinet, she held it up so Sela could slide her arms in, covering her exposed breasts, then tugged the sheet over her legs. Zale and the other man never took their eyes from the glowering angel before them.

Michael only had eyes for Sela. “How did you escape?”

Pain radiated from the bed as Sela’s eyes sluggishly opened. “It’s enough that I did. What happened to your eye?”

Red tinged both his cheeks. “When Gabriel heard what — We shared words in anger.”

“He does have an awesome right hook.” A hoarse chuckle shook Sela’s shoulders then they squared and her eyes went cold. “You’re not the mother-hen type, Mikey. What are you really doing here?”

Spearing an angry look at Zale, he shifted on two feet like a beggar asking for bread. “May I speak with you alone? Without your watchdogs? If you wish, the woman may stay.”

“I have a name,” Annie barked. “It’s Annie, not woman.”

His spine straightened before giving her a slight bow. “My deepest apologies, Annie.”

“Sela’s hurt, badly. She needs her rest.” Her voice shrilled, but she was far too annoyed to be worried about sounding like a harpy. “Aren’t angels supposed to be kind and compassionate? Leave her alone.”

Michael’s shoulders pulled back. “Some Vangelus are Heaven’s warriors. Compassion is part of our nature but we aren’t all wings and halos. Sometimes we’re swords and blood, might and vengeance, power and battle —”

“Bullshit and bongos, we got it. Make your point,” snapped the blond man.

Zale positioned himself between Annie and Michael. Smoke clung to him, not wood smoke, but a brimstone and sulfur stench that stung her eyes. Dirt and dust mingled with sweat to stain the back of his shirt, molding it to hard muscles shielding her from the angel.

Annie fought against snickering as Michael’s body vibrated with exasperation. Any minute she expected him to stomp his foot like a spoiled child who’d been told ‘no.’