Angel's Blade (11 page)

Nathaniel put an arm over his head.
Over his eyes. “What?”

“When are you going to stop being
so stubborn and claim your mate?” Orifiel asked.

“How can you be so sure about all
this?” Nathaniel asked. “I’ve only known Zeke for a couple of weeks.” He
dropped his arm and lifted his head up, glaring at his father. “And he lives
here
. Plus he’s straight.”

Orifiel laughed. “Do you know how
long it takes to fly from Oregon to New York?”

Nathaniel frowned. “What are you
talking about?” He thought of the planes, the flight connections, the annoyance
of sitting in an airport. He’d done plenty of traveling for his job, and he was
tired of it, to be honest. He was looking for a position at a newspaper or
radio station where he could surf a desk for a while. Someone who didn’t have
to drive or fly or take a train every day of the week.

“Nathaniel, I love you, but you can
be really obtuse sometimes.” Orifiel got up and walked over to the bed. When he
sat down, he touched Nathaniel’s arm. “You can fly, remember?”

Nathaniel stared at his forearm. He
hadn’t forgotten, not really. He just wasn’t used to thinking about having
wings. “I don’t know, Dad,” he said quietly. “I’ve never tried it.”

“What? Seriously?” Orifiel sounded
shocked. “Hasn’t Zeke taken you out yet?”

“No. We’ve been busy with the blade
work. And other things,” Nathaniel admitted.

“My God, that man has the patience
of a saint,” Orifiel muttered.

Nathaniel flushed. “I thought I
knew what I wanted, Dad. And then all this happened and I feel like someone
tossed me out of the boat. And I can barely tread water.”

His father stood up and began
pacing. “You need to get out there. Spread your wings and fly. And I don’t mean
that metaphorically.”

“Why are you so set on this?”
Nathaniel watched his father walk back and forth.

Orifiel wheeled around and tapped
on the glass. “We’re not meant to be caged up. Angels are creatures of the air,
Nathaniel.” He stared out at the clear sky for a moment, then turned and
frowned at his son. “God didn’t give us our gifts so that we could lock them
up. He gave them to us to use them. You should understand that more clearly
than most.”

Nathaniel stood up and joined his
father. “You’re saying I need to use it or lose it.”

“Yes.”

Just as Nathaniel was about to
argue that God didn’t take that direct a hand in things, a noise from outside
distracted them both.

“Is that Maion?” Orifiel asked,
staring down over the front of the castle steps.

Nathaniel leaned closer, putting
his face to the glass. “Oh my God,” he breathed, then he fumbled with the latch
of the casement window. “That’s Zeke. And the young students.”

“And Maion,” Orifiel said grimly.

Nathaniel finally got the window
open. The clash of weapons splintered the silence, and then a burst of flames
scarred over the stone. Snow and ice melted and a large bout of steam hissed
into the air. Shouts and a cry of agony had Nathaniel climbing up onto the
windowsill. His blade was in his hand. He didn’t recall drawing it.

“That was Zeke,” he said, preparing
to leap. From the corner of his eye, he saw movement. The fog billowed and
another gout of flames scoured over the steps.

Haniel, one of the younger angels,
yelled and charged, blade raised. Behind him, his friend Jeremiel stood, face
frozen with horror. Raguel, Nathaniel’s tormentor, was lying on the ground
bleeding. He’d obviously been trying to protect the teens. Nathaniel didn’t
have time to dwell on Raguel’s unexpected decency. The mist swirled, and Maion’s
face appeared within its depths for a split second. His best friend’s eyes
flared blood red in the dusky light.

He held up his fist, face stretched
into a terrible facsimile of a grin, and then he opened his fingers. His palm
glowed, like embers and ash. As Nathaniel watched, more flames licked out,
catching Haniel along his arm and up his shoulder. He dropped his blade as
Jeremiel tackled his friend, shoving him into the snow on the side of the
steps. Horribly, the flames didn’t subside. Haniel screamed, long and ragged
and pain-filled.

“Dear Jesus,” Orifiel gasped, hand
on the window to hold it open. “Maion’s been demon-bound.”

“Is that another way of saying he’s
been possessed?” Nathaniel asked tensely, thigh muscles bunching. Haniel
screamed again, even as his friend rolled him into more snow. “Why aren’t the
flames going out?”

“Yes,” Orifiel replied. “And demon
fire is more like liquid than regular flame. Think of napalm.”

“God, that’s evil.” Nathaniel didn’t
have time to ask any more questions. Maion had turned his gaze to Zeke and
Nathaniel would
not
let him harm his mate. “Get the Alpha. And the
others,” he told his father, right before he leaped into the air, wings
shifting to carry him where he needed to go.

****

Zeke twisted, letting the flames
hit his blade instead of catching on his flesh. The angelic weapon absorbed the
heat, purifying it, but the blade writhed in his hands, as if alive. The hilt
grew hot and Zeke pressed his will onto the weapon, trying to insulate his
flesh from the evil licking up the metal.

“You think you can have Nathaniel?
He’s mine. He will always be mine,” Maion hissed, raising his palm higher. “You
are nothing. Blood and ash and dust.” He spat to the side. His saliva was so
hot it hit the snow and sizzled like acid.

“You cannot own another person,”
Zeke replied, turning his blade so that some of the flames would flare back to
Maion.

The other angel laughed and sipped
the fire out of the air, like a dragon swallowing his own breath. With no
warning, he thrust out a second hand and the flames licked along Zeke’s cheek.
He cried out, whipping his head back as his skin heated. His blade caught most
of it, thank God, so his flesh didn’t ignite. Poor Haniel was still moaning in
the snow. Zeke couldn’t help him. He hoped that Raphael was able to heal him,
but first he had to take care of Maion.

“I will own Nathaniel like a master
owns a slave,” Maion said, striking again. Zeke slashed, deflecting the fire,
unable to do anything except react. Fighting defensively was no way to survive,
but he had no choice. Maion was too dangerous. Too strong. He needed help. The
front door opened and he turned, hoping to God that it was Gabriel or Suriel
come to add their strength to his.

Maion turned, too, throwing balls
of acid fire at the door. Zeke yelled a warning and Gabriel ducked, letting the
flames spatter onto the stone walls. Behind him, Raphael eased out, eyes on the
injured angels. Zeke needed to distract Maion so that the Omega could help
Haniel and Raguel.

“You aren’t angel enough for
Nathaniel,” Zeke taunted, slicing his weapon across his body in a flashy
maneuver. “You aren’t even
man
enough
for him.”

Maion growled, throwing more flames
at him. Zeke ducked. The fire was hotter this time and he struggled with it,
trying to turn it away from his torso. His face stung where he’d almost been
burned earlier, but from the corner of his eye he saw that Raphael had made it
to Haniel. He relaxed minutely, and that was his downfall. Maion tossed more
flame at him, faster than he expected. Zeke swerved, catching the tail end of
the flames on his weapon, but some of it flared down his arm. He cried out,
dropping his blade and then Maion was on top of him, fists clenched and red-hot.
Zeke grappled with him, straining to keep those hands from his body. When a
shape flung itself out of the windows above them, he flinched, knowing
instinctively that it was Nathaniel. His mate. Who had never flown.

“God help us,” he murmured, staring
up at Nathaniel, muscles locked against Maion’s destructive evil.

“God won’t save you now, weapons
master,” Maion said, shoving harder against Zeke’s hold. “It’s too late.
Nathaniel will be mine.”

“You will
never
own me,
Maion,” Nathaniel yelled.

Maion let go, twisting to meet
Nathaniel in mid-air, wings bursting from his shoulders. Instead of feathers,
scales crawled down his body.

Nathaniel dove to meet him,
slate-grey wings outstretched like shadows behind him. He held his dagger in
both hands. When Maion tried to grab him, Nathaniel twisted, slashing with his
blade. Maion cried out, blood spattering across the snow. It steamed and Zeke
used the cover to get to his feet and launch himself into the air. Nathaniel
was fighting Maion, moving faster than Zeke had thought possible. He shifted,
desperate to help, and launched himself up. He grabbed Maion’s neck just as he
was about to burn Nathaniel’s wings, and yanked, hard, spoiling his aim. The
fireballs rocketed past Nathaniel.

“I’ll hold him!” Zeke yelled.
Nathaniel nodded, face grim.

Maion cursed at him as he writhed,
his scaled wings slicing at Zeke’s forearms. Zeke ignored the pain, tightening
his hold, but then Maion’s body shifted beneath his grip, the skin flowing like
hot liquid. He had to let go. When Maion screamed, his legs lengthened, melding
together.

Horrified, Zeke knew that if they
didn’t kill him now, he would change into a full-bodied demon. He darted him,
grabbing him again. As he grappled with Maion, his eyes met Nathaniel’s. His
mate’s face was determined even in his grief.

Nathaniel drew his arm back, then
slashed down, plunging his dagger into Maion’s heart without hesitation. “Maion,
forgive me,” he whispered, turning the knife and flatting it up against a rib.

Maion vomited fire, spine twisting.
Zeke let go and the creature plummeted to the ground. Everything happened in
slow-motion. Maion’s wings stretched out, like leather parachutes, and then
they disintegrated into black ash. His body hit the ground hard, head bouncing.
His arms lay outstretched, fingers lax. In the air, Nathaniel faltered and Zeke
caught him in his arms. Nathaniel gasped and abruptly, Zeke could hear again.
The sound of Haniel’s harsh breathing while Raphael worked on him cut him to
the bone. If only he’d been faster…

“Oh God,” Nathaniel moaned, head
falling to Zeke’s shoulder. Their wings fluttered against each other and Zeke
slowly lowered them to the ground. Maion’s dead eyes stared at them accusingly.
He took deep breaths, trying to keep from falling. His cheek burned from the
fire and his arms stung from the cuts he’d received. Nathaniel felt like sorrow
in his arms. It wasn’t until his mate returned his embrace that something eased
in his chest.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured,
holding Nathaniel tighter.

“Don’t be,” Nathaniel sighed. “None
of this is your fault. If I’d only noticed his strangeness sooner…”

Zeke shook his head, then froze.
Maion’s body was burning from the inside out. Nathaniel lifted his forehead
from Zeke’s shoulder and watched as his friend’s mortal flesh turned to ash.
The black silt dirtied the snow. Nathaniel dragged in a shaky breath and Zeke’s
soul ached for his lover. No one should have to kill a friend. He was about to
apologize again when Nathaniel put his fingers on Zeke’s lips, stilling his
voice.

“I choose you, Zeke, twin blade to
my soul, warrior to warrior, master to master. You are my equal, my heart, my
sharp edge. I pledge myself to you, hilt to blade, as God wills, in this life
and into the heat at the end of creation,” Nathaniel said, loud and clear. His
hands slid to Zeke’s cheeks.

Zeke swallowed. Behind Nathaniel,
he could see Gabriel watching them alertly. He took a shaky breath and spoke
the words he’d carried in his heart for weeks. “I choose you, Nathaniel, twin
blade to my soul, warrior to warrior, master to master. You are my equal, my
heart, my sharp edge. I pledge myself to you, blade to hilt, as God wills, in
this life and into the heat at the end of creation.”

“Heard and witnessed,” Gabriel
murmured, but Zeke barely noticed.

For some reason, the words of
claiming felt different as he spoke them this time. Richer. More real. His body
vibrated with familiar energy, rushing from him into his mate, and then back
again. Looking at Nathaniel, he realized it was the same spark that moved
between them when they forged metal together. Their bond was already in place,
even though Nathaniel hadn’t spoken the words aloud before. It had been in
place since they’d created their daggers weeks earlier, the angelic weapons witness
to their claiming.

Nathaniel smiled, the knowledge of
their bond in his expression. “I’m sorry I made you wait so long before I said
the words.”

Zeke dropped his forehead down onto
his lover’s. “Don’t be. I would rather you choose me of your own free will and
not just because it was your duty. This is better.”

Nathaniel kissed him, hard. “Don’t
ever leave me.”

“I won’t.” Zeke hugged him tightly.
“I promise.”

When Nathaniel murmured his own
promise back to Zeke, he knew he’d finally come home.

Epilogue

“I guess you’re happy to be heading
home,” Nathaniel said to his father.

Orifiel nodded. “I am. I’m looking
forward to the quiet.” He grinned at his son. “This place is a little too noisy
for my taste. And Raguel has healed enough to travel.”