Lucca (25 page)

“Good thing I’m not you then. Give it a
rest, Blaize.”

Blaize leaned against the bookcase with his
arms crossed over his chest. “Trust me, I don’t give a crap about
what goes down with the Archangels, but it really pisses me off
when they go after beings who can’t defend themselves.”

Lucca paused, his hand on one of the books.
He shoved it back into place on the shelf as he leveled his gaze on
Blaize. “Who would have known the great Dark Angel has a bleeding
heart.”

“Yeah, well, we all have a heart. It’s what
we choose to do with it that tells us what it’s worth.”

Lucca stared at him in disbelief. Blaize was
a Darklin, a Dark Angel, which made him half demon, half angel and
neither being was prone to care about humans in the capacity Blaize
was suggesting. “What do you propose I do? Raise my broadsword and
take on Barachiel?”

Blaize looked away. The muscles in his
jawline working as he clenched and unclenched his teeth.

“Good Lord, you do want me to pick up a
sword. Barachiel is the Archangel of Lightning. He’d blast my arse
to hell and back before I could swing the damn weapon, or have you
forgotten my wings are bound?”

Blaize looked at him, not unsympathetically.
“You have your brethren to back you up.”

Lucca chortled with snort of disbelief. “The
brethren
are who bound my wings. They would probably be
relieved if Barachiel took me out.” He shook his head and returned
to his search. If he didn’t find the
Book of Magic
, he was
doomed no matter what. He doubted Barachiel would appreciate a good
attempt at finding the book and call it a day. He either showed up
with what Barachiel wanted or he was looking at a nice toasty
ending. That is if Kordon didn’t get to him first or his
father.

He could feel Blaize’s heated gaze on him.
He didn’t need a conscience right now. Not with demons and
Archangels breathing down his back, wanting something from him. He
didn’t trust either preternatural being, but he was on his own. His
brethren tossed him out. Just because he had a nice sit down with
Eli, it didn’t mean the Watchers were going to welcome him back
into the fold with open arms.

Besides, he had no plans of just handing
over either book without a concrete plan. Archangels and the
Hashasheens had the tendency to clean up loose ends and he had a
hunch he was going to be one of them.

“What’s your interest in the humans anyway?”
Lucca shouldn’t ask, but his tongue never minded its own
business.

“What if Raziel hid the humans because he
cares for one of them or perhaps both?”

Lucca’s gaze riveted to him. “What are you
saying? Do you think an Archangel can have feelings toward a human?
Fall in love with one?”

He lifted his shoulder in a shrug. “Why not?
The Watchers have proven it possible.”

He let out a loose breath in disbelief.
“Your uncle was a pure blood Angel. Was he all warm and cozy with
you?”

Blaize looked him over, his brows furrowing
over the bridge of his nose. “Just because your father and my uncle
were right pricks, doesn’t mean all Angels are.”

Lucca looked away, his hand balled into a
fist. “My father didn’t have a compassionate bone in his body.” His
fangs lengthened as thoughts of his father resurfaced. “He could
give Lucifer a few pointers on breaking someone’s…”

“Soul,” Blaize finished and Lucca met his
gaze.

Lucca battled with his emotions, his eyes
watering with frustration and betrayal for what he endured at the
hand of his father, but he wouldn’t let the emotions spill out.
“We. Do. Not. Have. A. Soul,” he bit out each word. Screw what Eli
thought or what the elders hoped to prove.

Blaize shook his head. “I think you’re
wrong. Some just choose to ignore it. I have demon blood in me and
there are times the aggressive side of me wants to lash out without
care, but my mother taught me how to control those urges.” His lips
were blade thin as he pursed them together. He looked at Lucca with
a heavy sigh.

Lucca groaned. Even after all these
centuries he knew the look. Blaize was going to continue his heart
to heart. It must be the poet in him. He did have hit ballads on
the airways. “You asked about my father,” Blaize said. “Yes, he was
an Angel and he cared for my sister and me. He loved us and he
loved my mother.”

Lucca shook his head. He didn’t want to hear
it. “Stop.”

“My father knew your father?”

He narrowed his eyes on him. “I said I
didn’t want to hear any more.”

“My father was the physician who treated you
after Arizul nearly beat you to death.”

Lucca backed away shaking his head. “You
lie.” But he did know. The first few days after the beating he’d
been in and out of consciousness. He was vaguely aware of a male,
his kindness and hopeful words, but when he finally awakened he was
in the care of another. The new doctor hadn’t been unkind, but he
knew it wasn’t the male who encouraged him to live.

“I’m not lying. You should have heard my
father after he saw what had been done to you. He wanted to kill
Arizul.”

Tears burned Lucca’s eyes as he sunk down to
the ground, but the tears were of anger not of self-pity. “Why
didn’t he?”

Blaize walked over to him and knelt down
beside him. “Because the Grigori would have retaliated. They would
have come after us. My father couldn’t risk it. The Grigori frowned
upon demon and Angel marriages and they would use any excuse to
eliminate them.”

Lucca knew the Grigori’s thoughts of mixed
marriages with demons, but the knowledge didn’t excuse Blaize’s
father. Blaize’s father knew what had been done to him, must have
known what he endured, but the good doctor just nursed him back to
health and sent him home for more abuse.

“My father couldn’t take you away, but he
did manage to pass a law through the right channels, forbidding the
Fallen from abusing their offspring. If caught using excessive
force, it was punishable by death. The elders agreed to it
after…”

Lucca glared at him. “After what?” he
snapped.

“After they saw the visual imprints my
father took of you.”

His raw chuckle made Blaize flinch. “My
humiliation is complete or is there more you’d like to share with
me.” He rose to his feet in one fluid move.

Blaize came to his feet, too. “My father
saved your life.”

“You think so?” What Blaize claimed rang
true, but how could Lucca forgive them for handing him back to
Arizul. “My father just didn’t beat me to a bloody pulp, you know.
Mental abuse can be more damaging than physical blows. Life with my
father was a living hell,” he growled, his fangs biting into his
lips. “You just confessed your father and the rest of the Grigori
left me in hell.”

Blaize had the decency to look abashed.
“What happened to you sucked.”

Lucca hissed his harrumph, ending it with a
growl, warning Blaize he had met his limit of control. What Blaize
said now would determine if this conversation ended with fists.

Blaize met his gaze again. Lucca had to give
him credit. The Darklin didn’t flinch or back down. “You’re a
better male than your father, but you have to believe it. All I’m
saying is find out who the humans are before you serve them up on a
platter.”

A better male than his father, isn’t that
what he’d been trying to be since he broke free of him? Better,
didn’t mean he had to befriend humans and worry about their demise.
He survived by never becoming too close to a human. Becoming close
caused heartache and he didn’t need or want it. “I haven’t harmed
anyone who didn’t deserve to be pummeled.” Eli didn’t count since
at the time he had believed his actions were justified. It all
worked itself out in the end anyway. “Humans die.” He met Blaize’s
gaze. "They’re a weaker species. What do I care if they live fifty
years or a few days? Let the Archangels do what they want. I’m
staying out of their business.”

“You were friends with Will. You were
friends with Kit.” Blaize just couldn’t let it go.

He inhaled deeply, drawing in a rugged
breath. “Yeah, a waste of my time.”

Blaize swore under his breath. “That’s why
you dragged me down to the pub that night to try and save Kit.”

He whirled on him. “Kit Marlowe didn’t know
when to keep his mouth shut. Obviously, he had something in common
with you. I’ll have to remember that flaw the next time I feel
inclined to choose a—” The word he was about to spew lodged in his
throat.

“Say it,” Blaize demanded. “Say it. Friend.
You were going to say friend. Kit Marlowe was your friend. That’s
what friends do, they look out for one another, and you try to save
them when they’re too stupid to realize the danger. You wanted to
save Kit.”

“You don’t know a damn thing.” Lucca pounded
his hand into the side of the bookcase. The wood shuddered, the
vibration growing louder. “What the…” He backed up a step as the
case opened, revealing a hidden compartment. Blaize came to stand
by Lucca as he helped pull the case open further. “Bingo,” Lucca
said as he stared at the two books he’d been looking for, sitting
side by side on a shelf.

“I can maybe understand why the Book of
Raziel is hidden well, but why is the Tomes of Nasarm so
important?”

Lucca shrugged. “How should I know? I
thought we established my father wasn’t the warm and cozy, feely
type. He never revealed his reasons for what was kept in the Vault.
I’m just glad he chose to keep both books together. Saves me time.
Now I can get Kordon off my back, too.”

Blaize shook his head. “You have no problem
handing both books over to beings that would sooner see you dead
than give you the time of day.”

Lucca shoved him aside, reaching for the
books in question. As he lifted them off the shelf, he knew he’d
made a mistake. “Shit.” He threw himself at Blaize, sending the
Darklin flying backward out of the hidden room as spikes came
barreling down like a hailstorm with a deadly aim.

The books flew out of his hands, sliding
across the floor, slamming into a vase that tumbled over, rolling
down toward the cabinet with the display of weapons. Lucca leapt to
his feet with a curse and flung himself toward the vase, grabbing
it just inches before it fell against the cabinet. He breathed a
sigh of relief and looked up to see Blaize frowning down at him. It
was then the pain registered. His gaze landed on the protruding
spike in his calf.

Blaize crouched down next to him.
“Seriously, what else is booby trapped down here?” His large hand
gripped the spike and he yanked out the offensive weapon.

Lucca grimaced, holding back the scream
choking him. Blood soaked his jeans and his leg throbbed as if it
somehow created its own heartbeat to go with the blinding pain.

Blaize ripped the thick material aside as if
it were no more than a paper towel so he could have a look at the
damage. He held his hand over the wound, light radiated from his
palm, sending warmth throughout his limb.

Blaize’s healing powers were phenomenal, but
they hadn’t been enough to save Kit Marlowe that night. They had
been too late.

Blaize met his gaze then as if he read his
thoughts. “I can’t heal all wounds. You know that.”

Lucca nodded. “I know.” His voice sounded
raw like an open wound that wouldn’t heal. “I know,” he said with
more meaning this time. He lost a friend that night, but so had
Blaize. He never considered Blaize’s loss until now.

He placed the vase down beside him. Blaize
stood and offered his hand. Lucca grabbed a hold, allowing Blazie
to pull him to a standing position. He stepped gingerly on his foot
expecting residual pain, but his leg felt good as new. “Thanks.”
And meant it. “We should get out of here before we end up as one of
the artifacts.”

“You don’t have to ask me twice.”

Lucca bent down to retrieve the books.

Clap…clap… clap

The slow rhythm of two hands slapping
together drew their attention to the door.

“Bloody hell,” Blaize cursed.

Lucca’s body went rigid and he felt the
blood drain from his face. “Father?”

Chapter Thirty-Two

“Son.” Arizul held out his arms as if
expecting Lucca to welcome his embrace. When Lucca made no move, he
let his arms drop. “What? No hug for your father.” Arizul’s dark
gaze landed on the books Lucca held in his arms. “You plan on doing
a little light reading?”

“Just let us pass.” Lucca’s voice lost some
of its usual deep timber as if Arizul castrated him with just one
look.

“You haven’t changed, have you?” His father
shook his head. “You’re still the pansy arse, thinking you can
whine your way out of tough spots. I’ll have to give you credit. It
took me a while to figure out you’d replaced the key with a fake. I
never figured you’d have the balls to defy me, but then you did run
away, didn’t you?” He waved his hand at him, palm up. “Give it
over. Give me the books. They don’t belong to you. If you hand them
over, I’ll forgive your rash decision to steal the key.

Lucca held the books tighter, his knuckles
turning white. No wonder his father had been shadowing him and not
making contact. His father knew he’d never hand over the key
willingly. “You sent Kordon to pressure me, didn’t you?”

Arizul shrugged. “You made it easy for me.
You owed the Hashasheen the books and you failed to pay them.
Kordon owed me a favor. You see where this is going. Now, I’ll ask
you one more time. Give me the books.”

“I don’t believe I will.” His eyes narrowed
as he met his father’s gaze. He hadn’t laid eyes on Arizul since
Kit Marlowe’s death. The death his father had orchestrated.

His father was a purebred Angel and they
were all but immortal as he was, but it didn’t look like the years
had been kind to Arizul. Dark shadows haloed his once vibrant blue
eyes. His wheat colored hair had lost its sheen and lay limp on his
shoulders. Where had his father been holing up all this time?