Heaven and Hellsbane (6 page)

“No. I mean, that’s too soon. Make it…make it one hundred,” I said. “And add a Mississippi in between. You know, one Mississippi, two Mississippi…” With any luck the demon would be a pile of black goo by the count of fifty.

His worried gaze swung to me, his mouth a tense line. “One hundred. That’s it.”

The look in his eyes was more than anger over the loss of his brothers, over the death of an illorum he didn’t know. The look in his eyes was personal—rage, fueled by unabashed terror…for me.

My heart skipped a beat and a dull ache pressed through my chest. This was why seraphim didn’t speak to humans, why magisters were punished for growing too close to their illorum. I could see it in the tense muscles of his face, the tight line of his shoulders. His fear for me, our connection, could drive him to do the unthinkable. Would he kill any demon who hurt me like they had Mathew? Would he start a war to protect me? To avenge me?

Would I do any less for him?

The possible answers scared me. I swallowed hard and looked away. My hands trembled, not because I was about to face a demon, but because of Eli. Because of that intangible line we risked crossing with every breath. I pulled the hilt of my sword from its sheath, stepping back from the ledge once more.

Eli pressed a finger under my chin, lifting my face so I’d look him in the eyes. “I need you to be careful. Please.”

I licked my lips, pretended he couldn’t hear my heart hammering in my chest and that I didn’t notice the way his eyes followed the track of my tongue. “I’ll be fine.”

We were getting good at pretending. Too good. Before I could do something stupid like push up on my toes and kiss him, I took off. The scene around me blurred in a rush of wind as the world flew by.

Faster than any human could see, I moved down the concourse, following the stink of demon. It wasn’t instant teleportation, but it was close. My angelic half folded time and space and with each step I traveled huge distances. Despite my speed, my footfalls echoed off the walls, sounding like a single drum beat, nothing like a normal stride.

Through the blur of my vision I noticed the lights from a corner newsstand as I passed and saw the occasional mass of a human body here and there—fellow late-night travelers clueless that I’d just streaked past. I moved fast through the grand expanse of the quiet terminal, barely hearing the soft piped-in music.

I followed the demon’s scent down the escalators to the tram. The
swoosh
of automatic doors closing sounded the moment my foot hit the metal landing at the bottom. Three seconds later the tram on the other side roared away toward the landside terminal.

The demon had come this way, even stood around long enough to leave a cloud of brimstone behind. I could almost see the putrid stench slowly expanding to fill every inch of the long embarking room. I couldn’t stomach waiting here for the next tram.

Like most of the airport, the tram room was empty, free of witnesses, so I could call my blade. With a simple thought, an easy focus of will, my angelic power gathered the molecules from the air around me—one moment nothing, the next a solid, deadly sharp blade formed at the end of my hilt.

I used the beautiful weapon to wedge the doors open to the tram tunnel. Not the job it was forged to do, but it got it done. It was a good five-foot drop to the tracks. I made the jump easily and took off again.

An instant later I’d caught up to the tram, tightened my jaw, and willed myself faster. I’d done it before, moved so fast I passed through solid matter. The idea seemed bizarre, but lately bizarre had become the norm in my life.

Trying to pass through the end and stop inside the tram was too tricky. My best bet was to keep going and beat the whole thing to the landside disembarking room. I’d wait for the demon and stage the battle there.

The blur of my vision brightened for a split second as I moved through the lit train, and then I was standing in the long tram bay—identical to the one on the other side. With the smooth glossy wall behind me, sword double-fisted in my hands, I stood ready, staring at the tinted windows of the automatic doors. A heartbeat later, the train rumbled to a stop and the doors swooshed open.

There was only one passenger in the tram, and I knew he was the demon by the way he reeked to high heaven. He stepped out—eyes narrow, jaw tight, muscles tense. He was ready for a fight.

I’d never get used to how normal demons could look. This guy, with his lean body shown off under a snug muscle shirt and tight jeans, could have walked off the set of a porn movie. His sandy-blond hair flowed in soft waves back from his forehead, and his baby smooth face was a perfect mix of adorable innocence and hot, sexy sin.

Even snarling at me the way he was, those violet eyes were captivating—his small, rounded nose and strong, rounded chin the perfect frame for a great set of lips. The demon was hot. It wasn’t hard to believe he’d once been like Eli, once been a seraph.

Too bad all his hot, yummy good looks were just a meat suit he wore. The real being underneath the beauty was something very different. Experience told me that. The abyss changes the Fallen—inside and out.

“Hi. I’m from the demon-greeting committee. My name’s Emma. Welcome to Pittsburgh. So sorry you can’t stay. Your departure to the abyss will board in oh…about three seconds.”

The guy snorted. “You think you’re funny? Or are you hoping I’ll let you slice off my head just to get away from your lousy jokes?”

I shrugged. “Whatever works.”
Smart-aleck demons. Gotta love ’em
.

And just like that the sexy Adonis shifted forms—his big hands growing longer, talon-like claws forming at the ends of his fingers. His body mass increased, muscles thickening, bones lengthening. He grew taller by two or three inches and wider by the same degree. Veins bulged on his neck—down his forehead, shoulders, and forearms. He bared his sharpened teeth at me, growling. “C’mon, let’s do this.”

His voice was raw, gravelly like a three-pack-a-day smoker. The sound didn’t go with the pretty-boy looks he’d had before, but it was standard form for demons.

“What? That’s it? No lumpy horned head, no blood-red skin, no cloven feet? You’re not gonna get any bigger than that?” I had to admit, he was kind of a letdown.

He waved me on with one clawed hand. “All I’ll need. Let’s go.”

“You bet. Just one thing I gotta know first.” I adjusted my grip. “You kill that illorum back there?”

“Would you let me go if I said no?”

“Why? So you can live to kill another day? Uh…” I rolled my eyes, pretending to consider it. “No.”

He stalked toward me. “Then don’t ask stupid questions.”

“You kill Karoz too?” I asked, centering my weight—feeling the perfect balance of my sword in my hands, ready.

But the demon stopped, eyes going wide. “Karoz? He was the boy’s magister?”

I scoffed. “Like you care. You’re a friggin’ demon. Some Fallen’s bitch. All you care about is seducing moronic humans into throwing themselves on a grenade to protect your puppet master and keeping your ass out of the abyss.”

He blinked at that, as though he couldn’t quite believe I’d said it. Then his expression twisted, a fresh mask of ugly rippling across his face. He crouched, preparing to pounce. “Filthy spawn.”

Faster than an electric spark, he sprang and I ducked, his claws swinging at my head, ripping the shoulder of my white, silk blouse instead. I spun, my sword coming around and nicking his side.

I was still wearing my date-night clothes—silk, tapered shirt, clingy black slacks, black fitted vest, and low-heeled, ankle-high cowboy boots. Not the best outfit to wear to a sword fight, but hey, it could’ve been worse.

He skidded to a stop, slamming into the polished block wall behind him.

“What are you doing with the swords?” I asked, finding my balance again, ready for his next attack.

He got to his feet, seething, and looked up at me from under the shelf of his brow. “Rot in Hell, you murderous bitch.”

The demon launched himself at me again, but this time I started my swing a half beat sooner, the blade poised to slice across his chest—maybe even sever an arm. It didn’t.

Instead my sword met human meat and muscle, clipping a lock of bright red hair that hadn’t been there an instant before. Bodies collided and fell at my feet. My brain scrambled to make sense of the tangle of limbs, the tumbling flash of claws, hands, and legs.

They slammed into the automatic doors, denting the white metal bottom. The sound of it echoed off the walls. The demon moved first, rolling quickly off the smaller body underneath.

“Liam?” I said.

He lay on his stomach, blood seeping through his shirt. I’d made a five-inch gash across his back. His blood stained the white doors.

Slowly he pushed to his elbows and rolled over, his small Irish green eyes smiling, mouth in a crooked grin. “Hello, lassie.”

“Are you crazy? I could’ve killed you.”

The demon took advantage of our momentary distraction. He started toward Liam, and I felt sure he meant to finish the job I’d started. I moved quickly, stepping forward, swinging my sword, aiming to take the demon’s head from his neck.

But just before I could connect, my legs slipped out from under me and I hit the tiled floor, slamming my hip, pain jarring up through my spine. My sword jolted from my grip and clamored out of reach.

Panic was like a living thing in my chest, squeezing my lungs, punching through my heart. I scrambled backward after my sword, grabbed it, and turned back to defend myself—to save Liam—and then stopped cold, Liam’s sword at my nose.

“Hold your horses there, lassie. I can’t be lettin’ you harm Amon,” he said, looming over me.

“Amon?” I glanced at the demon on his knees by the automatic doors where Liam had been. He’d shifted back to his human form, looking vulnerable despite his long, muscled body. “He’s a demon. Why are you protecting him?”

“Because…” Liam shrugged his small shoulders. “I love him.”

Chapter Six

“But you hit on me. Hard. All the time.”

Liam rolled his shoulder. “Don’t wear a sign. A private matter, it ’tis. Besides,” he said, winking with a lecherous smile, “you liked it a wee bit, did ya not?”

“Um, no. And, eww. Anyway that’s beside the point,” I said. “You’re gay? And dating a demon?”

Liam’s dirty-boy smile flattened, his orange-red brows tightening. “That
demon
saved me life. I trust him a damn sight more than I do any too-holy-to-speak seraph.”

Before I could ask for details, Liam suddenly flew sideways, slamming into the wall. He hit hard enough that the block wall cracked where his shoulder drove into it. Mortar dust showered the tiled floor over the crumpled heap of his body.

I blinked up at where he had been standing and met pale blue eyes. Eli exhaled. “One hundred Mississippi.”

“Awesome timing.”

“I know.” Eli glanced at Liam, who was slowly pushing up to his hands and knees, then behind him to Amon. He turned back, offering me a hand up. “This isn’t what I expected.”

“You too?” I took his hand and let him pull me to my feet. “Just wait. It gets better.”

“Elizal?” Eli and I both turned to look at Amon. The hottie demon braced his hands on the dented automatic doors, pushing up to his feet. His eyes were big and white, like a frightened child, glistening as though he were holding back tears.

“Keep my name off your lips, demon,” Eli said, putting himself between Amon and me.

The sandy-blond man shook his head, tears finally spilling down his cheeks. “Kill me. Please. This is too much to be borne. End this torment.”

Eli narrowed his eyes, tilting his head to study the man. “It’s not for me to end you, demon. Beg the master who broke you free of your punishment or the children charged with atoning for their father’s sins.”

“Shut yer gob, Amon.” Liam hissed in pain, dragging himself to his feet. “You’ll not go anywhere if I have a breath left in me.”

Eli glanced from the demon to Liam and back again. “Amon?”

The tall, handsome man nodded, quiet sobs shaking his shoulders. He wouldn’t look at the rest of us, his head down, arms folded over his muscled abs.

“You know him?” I asked. “I mean, like from before he was a demon?”

Eli spared me a quick look then turned back to Amon. “Yes. It was Tommy who sent him to the abyss. He was…different then.”

Amon raised his gaze to Eli, his sheepish expression making him all the more adorably pathetic. “The abyss damaged me. I look the best my savior could manage.”

Eli scoffed. “Savior. That’s a matter of perspective.”

“I know,” Amon said. “The Fallen who freed me was a betrayer and freeing me was an act of further disobedience. He was banished by an illorum shortly after doing so. I had little choice but to serve him, but I’m free now and…” He straightened some, lifting his chin. “I won’t go back to the abyss.”

“That’s not your decision.”

“No. It’s mine,” Liam said, stepping between the demon and Eli. He made a wall of himself even though the wall was barely five feet high. Okay, so maybe he was more of a hedge.

“Wait. Wasn’t Amon just begging for Eli to shish kebab him with his sword a second ago?” I said.

Eli exhaled like I’d asked if snow was white and glanced back at me. “He begged that I end him. Your sword, your power, sentences the Fallen to the abyss. My sword…ends them.”

“Oh. Yeah. Right.” Maybe I was missing something. “So, what’s the difference?”

“The abyss is punishment,” Liam said. “Eternity in darkness, their bodies and minds feeding upon themselves. ’Tis a hell worse than any dreamed by men or debated by science.”

“The point is that they exist. They continue—even in the abyss they think, feel, and suffer…forever,” Eli said.

“Well, yeah, that’s kinda the definition of immortal,” I said.

“None of us is truly immortal. We do not age or suffer illness,” Eli said. “We have no natural end. But the blade of an angelic sword can end our existence, as it is. We return to the divine ether, to the spirit and power from whence we were formed. What we were…ceases.”

I looked to Amon, tears drying, though his wide-eyed, handsome face was still etched with sorrow. “And you don’t want to end him because…?”

“He doesn’t deserve it,” Eli replied.

“What the bugger-all do you know, ya feckin’ wingless fairy,” Liam said.

“I know his sin.” Eli’s voice was cold steel. “I know the pain his defiance wrought on the humans he used to satisfy his wicked desires.”

“I loved them,” Amon said, his head low. “I loved
her
…I loved Beatrice with all that I am.”

“Then you should have left her untouched, uncorrupted,” Eli said. “You would have done her less harm.”

“Her?” I so did not understand angel sexual preference.

Liam huffed. “Said
I
was gay. ’Tis all the same for angels.”

Eli continued as though he hadn’t heard. “She was inconsolable after your banishment. She…” He exhaled, jaw tight, hands flexing, and then he looked away.

Amon lifted his gaze to Eli, back stiffening. “She what?”

In one swift movement, Eli drew his sword, pulling it from the invisible sheath at his side. He pushed Liam aside before the small man could see him move. Eli leveled the point of his sword at Amon’s neck, light reflecting off the metal beneath the demon’s chin.

“If my blade could banish you to the eternal torment…”

Amon’s expression flattened and he held his ground. “She what? Tell me.”

“She took her own life,” Eli said.

The demon stumbled back, his face going ashen, mouth agape—wordless.

“She believed in death you would be reunited. She orphaned her child…
your
child.” Eli stepped closer, pressing his sword’s point against Amon’s flesh again. “Why would she believe such a thing unless you lied to her?”

Amon shook his head. “No…no. I wouldn’t.”

Liam shoved his way between the two men, slicing his sword against Eli’s, knocking it away from Amon. “Are ya deaf? He loved her. The daft bird never knew what he was. Didn’t know there was a special hell for fools the likes of him. He never told her. Was her human beliefs that twisted her reasoning. Not Amon.”

“And now you’ve decided to take out your resentment on those of us who’ve proven stronger than you. Is that it?” Eli asked. “You resent us, your brothers who have controlled our desires and resisted temptation despite our nearness to humans.” Eli lowered his sword and leaned forward, his chest uncomfortably close to Liam’s face. “What are you doing with the magisters’ swords?”

Confusion creased a mirroring expression across both Amon’s and Liam’s faces. Amon visibly swallowed and lifted his chin. “You’re wrong, Elizal. I’ve harmed no one since returning from the abyss.”

“You fecks think it was us?” Liam asked, his green eyes looking from Eli to me and back again. “You think we took that lad’s head back there? Done in his magister? Truly? Have ya lost yer bleedin’ gourds?”

“The girl from the alley said it was an illorum and a demon who attacked her and her magister,” I said. “And here you are.”

Liam held his hands out to his sides. “Do ya see any bloody angelic swords on me? We’ve been tracking the pair same as you.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Because the pricks killed me magister. That’s why.”

That got Eli’s attention. He stepped back. “What was his name? When did this happen?”

There were thousands of magisters, each one as focused on his illorum as Eli. It was just too easy to lose track of each other, too easy not to notice when one of them went missing even with their angelic connection. I could see how the news had come as a shock to Eli.

“No more than a fortnight ago,” Liam said.

I stiffened. “Before the attack on Maion?”

“Aye. Me magister’s name was Rehel, and despite wantin’ to keep me under his thumb, he was a right fine bloke. Didn’t deserve what they done to him.”

“You saw it?” I asked.

Liam looked at me, pain glistening in his small green eyes. “Aye, I saw them take his hand half a click before they used his own blessed sword to take his head. And there wasn’t a bleedin’ thing I could do to stop it.”

“Lies,” Eli said, sword still in hand, his other fisted tight. “What kind of illorum stands by and watches his magister slaughtered?”

“The kind that’s battling for his own buggered life, that’s what,” he said. “The demon you’re lookin’ for ’tis wicked fast and meaner than hellfire. Killed the poor gom Rehel had been trainin’.”

“He had taken on a new illorum?” I knew magisters often brought in a second or third trainee, especially when the first was particularly experienced. That’s how it’d worked for Eli, Tommy, and me. And then Tommy had been killed. Eli had yet to volunteer to take on a new trainee.

“Aye. Not more than a month marked,” Liam said. “If Amon hadn’t tackled the bloody demon battling me, I’d be a head shorter me self.”

“Amon was there?” Eli’s cold stare shifted to the demon behind Liam. “So he is involved with the attacks.”

“No, ya eejit,” Liam said. “He was passin’ by is all. But he’d be a right prick to walk on while two of his brother’s bastards were ripped from the mortal coil.”

“No. He’d just be what he is, a demon,” Eli said, his gaze never leaving the tall blond behind Liam.

“Why’d you help him?” I asked Amon. “Why would a demon help save an illorum?”

Amon’s gaze shifted from Eli to me, his expression softening. “The abyss is a cold, maddening place devoid of all light. It’s not meant to kill its inhabitants but to damage, to punish, to slowly strip away all that made us what we were. Our beauty is the first to be destroyed, then our compassion, and finally our minds. I was not a prisoner long enough to forget my heart.”

“How long were you in there?” I asked.

“Five years.” Eli’s tone was flat.

Amon looked to the angel and then lowered his gaze. “Less than that. My savior was banished twenty-two months ago. I have been free for some time.”

Liam poked a finger at Eli’s chest, glaring up at him. “And he’ll stay that way as long as me lungs draw breath.”

Eli looked down at the brassy redhead, fighting the smile ghosting across his lips. He snorted, then sobered. “Trusting a demon may be the very thing that costs you that last breath.”

“So why were you there when Liam’s magister was attacked?” I asked, refocusing the conversation. “You expect us to believe you were just passing by? Really?”

“Aye, that’s right,” Liam said. “And a lucky coincidence was all it was.”

The tall man glanced at his pint-size love and back to me, his cheeks flushing. “No. It wasn’t a coincidence. I had been…watching Liam for a few months. He doesn’t remember but he saved me long before I saved him.”

“Bollocks,” Liam said.

“How, Amon?” I asked.

“After my fellow brothers in service to our master—”

“Demons,” Eli said, interrupting. “Demons in service to a Fallen.”

Amon’s gaze flicked to the dark-haired angel beside me, a cold acceptance hardening in his violet eyes. “Yes, Elizal, that’s right. My fellow
demons
had scattered the moment we were free of our debt to the Fallen who’d pulled us from the abyss. I was alone. Even the damned among angels are not built for solitude. We need to connect to our kind. And after months with only my thoughts for companionship, I’d grown so desperate that I considered offering my service to another Fallen.”

“And Liam stopped you?” I asked.

“He did.” Amon’s handsome smile lit his face, looking down at the short illorum. “By banishing the Fallen to whom I meant to pledge my allegiance.”

“No,” Liam said, clearly surprised to hear the story. “Who was it?”

“Farun.”

“Naaww…” Liam shook his head, looked away for a second and back again, his surprise melting to understanding and then love. “You never told me.”

“It didn’t matter,” Amon said. “You were so beautiful. Your conviction, your sense of duty and justice, shined like a brilliant light around you. You walk with the grace of our Father within you, Liam. I was helpless to resist.” He hiked a shoulder. “Plus, I’ve always been a sucker for redheads.”

“Wait,” I said, my brain shuffling information and finding holes. “If there’s no Fallen forcing you to fight for him, why did you attack me just now?”

Amon’s violet eyes swung to me. “You were chasing me. Waiting for me with your sword drawn. Was I simply to let you end me?”

Good point.
I shook my head, moving on. “So, basically you were stalking Liam,” I said, my smile letting them know it wasn’t meant as an accusation.

Amon glanced from Liam to me and back again. “I suppose I was.”

“Lucky me,” Liam said, pushing up on his toes to press a kiss to Amon’s lips.

“Why didn’t you alert anyone to your magister’s murder?” Eli asked, unmoved by the pair’s romantic how-we-met story.

Liam’s brows creased. “What, the way you pricks tell us when an illorum bites us in the arse? Keep track of your own bloody brood, why don’t ya? Besides, he was my magister. His death was mine to avenge, it was. Didn’t know the bastards were making a habit of it, now did I?”

I knew when I first met Liam that he was sort of fighting on his own team rather than picking sides between good and evil. He wouldn’t raise a sword for a demon, but as he put it, he wouldn’t be the seraphim’s dirty little bitch either.

Eli opened his mouth to comment, but I spoke before he could. “So you’ve both seen the pair who’s been attacking magisters and their illorum. Did they say anything? Do you know why they’re doing this? Why they’re keeping the swords?”

Liam shook his head. “Naw. I got to the fight late. There was no time for talk. The illorum was a tall git—thin, mid-thirties, blond hair, glasses. The blasted demon was an old one, thick and strong and dressed in one of those sherwani outfits, like a Hindu priest if that don’t beat all.”

I glanced at Eli, both of us recognizing the description of the demon Nenita had given. But the illorum didn’t match. I looked back at Liam. “You’re sure the illorum was a grown man—not a kid, maybe an older teenager?”

The small man nodded. “I’m sure of it. But I can’t say for certain he was an illorum. There was somethin’ off about the fella. His sword was black as pitch and I got a glimpse of his mark. The feckin’ thing was ruined, like somethin’ had cut it in half, left a scar straight through.”