Seal of Surrender (21 page)

Archon remained silent, gazing out over the Bantu ceremony below, any sign of his demonic beast well hidden. On the slab near his feet, Irena stirred. Her pained moan filtered through Chago's focus and burrowed straight to his heart, drowning out the sounds of reality. Fuck waiting. Time to end this battle now.

He pushed up into a crouch and prepared to jump, gauging his angle for the best strike. His plans came to a screeching halt when a gun cocked beside his ear.

“Hands behind your back.”

He managed to tuck the syringe safely inside his shirt pocket before he turned.

A guard towered above him. They bound his wrists then led him down to the summit and forced him to kneel beside Irena's still form. She stirred and her bound hand clasped the leg of his jeans. Vengeance swelled his heart. He would not fail. Not again. Not this time.

Chago met Archon's searing gaze head-on. “Tonight we end this.”

• • •

Archon gazed down at Chago and a strange calm suffused his system. At last, he would ascend to his rightful place and oust his horror of a father. He would have satisfaction. This man's actions were of little consequence now.

“Leave us.” He dismissed the guards and stepped closer. “We meet once more, Scion.”

Wind blustered and the torches flared, their elongated shadows dancing a macabre waltz. On the plains below, the Bantu ritual culminated into frenzied chaos — the same energy that had brought him here would summon his father and terminate this charade.

A quick check of the stars showed the alignment was near. The Seal would provide the extra burst of power and the divine catalyst he required. He slipped the golden dagger from his pocket and crouched beside Irena, his quiet words meant for Chago alone. “Once again you have chosen your duty over your mate. And once more you will lose.”

Despite the Scion's fervent struggles, he stripped Irena of her shirt and bared the mark near the base of her spine. He poised the knife over the Seal's mark, its blade etched by Divinity herself with tiny symbols and runes — a spell for unleashing Armageddon.

The Bantu chants reached an ear-splitting crescendo and the planets above aligned. His time had come. Archon recited the ancient Enochian words, a key in the language of the angels. “Yolcam Emetgis.” Bring forth the Seal.

The blade sliced across the Seal's mark atop the girl's sacrum. She bucked against her restraints as the wound opened and scarlet blood spilled forth. Lightning flashed and power surged. His father would arrive soon.

“Yolcam Emetgis.” Archon yelled to the crowd below, driving the frenzy higher. “Yolcam Emetgis.”

Soon, the crowd repeated the foreign words in a never-ending loop of destruction.

Irena writhed on the slab, her skin flushed and breathing labored. Archon knelt beside her, stroking her hair reverently as he leaned in close to her ear and whispered, “Soon this will all be over and you'll be at peace.”

The Scion snarled and ripped free of the heavy ropes securing his limbs. He charged forward with something clutched in his hand. Archon watched his approach with mild interest. Nothing this man could do to him would be worse than what he'd already suffered.

Chago struck him with the force of a freight train.

Archon tumbled across the dry grass covering the summit with the Scion in close pursuit. They skidded to a stop near the edge, precariously close to a sheer drop. Chago grabbed him by the lapels of his Armani jacket and slammed his head against the hard surface before fumbling in the grass for something. A syringe.

They struggled for control of the needle and the plunger came free with a wet ‘pop'. Whatever liquid had been inside flowed out onto Archon's tailor-made chest.

Chago eyed the damp stain then cursed and slammed a fist into Archon's temple.

Stars flashed before his eyes and a small smile formed. The time had come to eliminate his façade. His inner beast raged, intent on freedom.

As Drake's body melted away, Archon's true nature surfaced. A thunderous boom echoed across the plains, ringing in his evolution and his victory. The overpowering stench of rotten eggs clogged the air. Lucifer had arrived and Archon would have his victory.

Chago stared at the stain on the front of Archon's suit.

Gone. One precious dose of the venom wasted and only one remained. He thrust his opponent's limp body away and pulled out the second syringe. There was no room for another accident.

Irena moaned atop the slab and he glanced in her direction, relieved to see Luther undoing her restraints and covering her with his shirt.

Beside him, Archon convulsed violently as Drake's skin disintegrated like wet tissue paper. The suit ripped in two and low gurgles escaped as rows of razor-sharp fangs descended into Archon's mouth in a circular pattern. With no time to spare, Chago lifted the half-empty vial and drew the remaining contents into the final syringe. If he didn't act fast, the fragile needle would never penetrate Archon's thick hide.

He scrambled back to his opponent's side, the syringe gripped in his fist. He didn't care where the needle struck as long as it injected somewhere inside the infernal bastard. He raised his hand to strike — too late.

A clawed fist wrapped tight around his throat and squeezed. Dots formed in his vision and a sickening crack sounded as his vertebra crumbled. Air whooshed past his face as Archon threw him across the summit. He landed in a heap near the opposite side and watched as the beast closed in, acidic saliva dripping from his lips. Somewhere in the distance he heard shouting, screams. A voice. A warning. Irena's horrified sobs carried on the now blustering wind, a reminder of his objective. Must save Irena. Must not fail.

He needed a new delivery system for the poison. The answer came swift as a cheetah.

Without allowing time for doubt to steal his thunder, Chago plunged the needle deep into his own jugular. The venom burned like battery acid as it infiltrated the nearby tissue. He tossed the empty syringe over the side of the cliff and cast one final look at Irena.

Archon grabbed his arm, his poisonous claws digging deep into his flesh. If the beast wanted a snack, Chago planned to give him one he'd never forget. An odd sense of completion overtook him as Archon's sharp fangs pierced his nape. At last, it was over. He was done.

• • •

Irena bucked against Luther's iron grip.

She refused to stand by while the man she loved died. Frustrated and desperate, she fought for freedom with all her remaining strength.
Warm blood trickled down her lower back, but she ignored it and focused on Chago. He must survive.

After being knocked unconscious, she'd gone into some kind of trance. Pain had flared brighter than the sun, blinding her to everything but its glorious agony. A crazy whirlwind of images had spun through her consciousness — a world without solace, a frightening wasteland of desolation, war in all its awesome, abhorrent power.

Yet something had stopped the specter from becoming reality, had drawn the abomination back inside her and rendered it dormant. She'd been dimly aware of a storm, of lightning and distant thunder and the persistent smell of sulfur.

Irena had concentrated, forcing herself into stillness, into peace, and reality had returned. With the tranquility came understanding. The man she loved had been honest with her all along.

Now her muscles ached like she'd been struck by a brakeless semi and her head still thumped with the remnants her vision-induced migraine. She longed for a hot bath and a long nap, but only if Chago was alive and well to join her in the festivities.

Archon roared into the night sky, his patchwork-ugly face slick with perspiration and saliva as his jagged spray of fangs sunk deep into the nape of Chago's neck.

Irena screamed, but Archon didn't budge, seemingly lost now in the feeding.

Adrenaline coursed through her system and she searched for a weapon. Luther's hold loosened just enough to allow her to slip his Beretta from its holster and jam an elbow hard into his ribs. She darted out of his grasp and charged, gun cocked and ready. “Let him, go, you cockeyed piece of shit!”

Archon disengaged from Chago's neck with a resounding smack, but he didn't release his meal. He turned slightly in her direction and roared. Irena stared, too repulsed to scream. The stench of decay swept past her on the errant breeze. “You've made your decision.”

Without hesitation, she fired once, twice. Archon staggered and dropped Chago's body to the ground. Irena stepped closer and fired again. Three, four. Each shot ricocheted off his thick, purple hide. He snarled and took a step toward her. His sharp claw barely missed her forearm as she fired another volley. Six, seven. The last shot struck deep inside Archon's gaping mouth. Jackpot.

He rushed at Luther, rage in his glowing eyes. Then he halted, twitched. Stepped again, and twitched again. Held his claws up and stared. Dropped to one knee.

Luther pulled Irena back.

His squeals erupted like a pen full of disturbed pigs.

Archon tumbled to the ground, one hand clutching his scaly throat while the other clawed the stone beneath him. Pained gasps followed as he struggled for breath and his muscles locked. He gave a final wheeze then nothing. The nightmare concluded in silence.

Irena wrenched free of Luther's grip and ran to Chago. The wound on his nape was already healing over, the fresh skin pink as a newborn's. She stroked the hair from his eyes, worried by his grayish pallor.

Luther crouched beside her and checked Chago's pulse. “His heart still beats erratically. I'm not sure how long the effects will be in his system. We've never dealt with black mamba venom before.”

Irena nodded and held Chago's hand tight. She didn't care about the effects. Didn't care about anything except the fact he was alive. And she'd stay with him forever, if he'd have her.

“The one who is victorious will not be hurt at all by the second death.”

Revelation 2:11

Chago returned to the world of the living in stages. His first awareness was of Irena stroking his hair and dusting his face with kisses. His second was the voice of his commander. He cracked open an eye and saw Xander examining Archon's motionless carcass.

“You're awake!” Irena smothered his face in kisses. He gave her a wan smile and struggled to stay awake. A gag-inducing wave of flatulence escaped Archon's now bloated form and Irena snorted.

“Christos!” Xander scrunched his nose and stepped away from the ick. “And I thought the minions were bad.” He glanced in Chago's direction with watery eyes. “Welcome back.”

“Did it work?” The words croaked from his arid throat. Judging by the carnage before him and the throb at the back of his neck, it had. Still, Archon's body lay unclaimed. He would have expected the archangel squad to clean this up pronto, as they had after the first Seal's opening. Divinity should be eager to learn Archon's secrets.

“Yes, it worked.” Xander crouched beside him and smiled. “And your training with Innocent's men did the trick too. They surrounded the insurgents and took them down before Turay even fired a shot. Good work, brother.”

Chago took a relieved breath and relaxed into Irena's lap. Everything should have been perfect.

Instead, the smell of sulfur grew suffocating and the torches flared into columns of fire as Lucifer touched down beside his errant son. Irena stiffened and Chago's head throbbed anew. If she hadn't had enough proof of his honesty before, she sure had a boatload now.

“'Ello, boys.” Lucifer hovered inches above the elephant grass “I see you've dealt with my naughty boy.”

“Yes, Irena dealt with him.” Xander stood and crossed his arms, moving away. Lucifer glanced at her and smiled with all the warmth of a ship-bottom barnacle. Xander's curt tone left no doubt to his level of irritation. “You should keep your spawn on a shorter leash.”

Revulsion fizzed in Chago's gut as Lucifer chuckled and rubbed his clawed hands together, apparently overjoyed in his son's demise. He crept around Archon's body, applying the occasional poke, jab, or kick. If he lived to be three thousand years old, Chago would never understand the twisted logic of Hades.

Dressed in his disco-meets-zombie attire, Lucifer fit right in with the still chanting Bantu below. He continued to murmur the same words over and over, in his off-tune singsong voice. “From one serpent to another.”

Luther skirted the proceedings and approached them. He offered his well wishes to Chago and Irena before asking Xander for permission to leave.

“Fine. I'll check in with you later before your mission.”

Luther nodded and disappeared in a flash of bright light.

Irena didn't seem to notice. Her focus remained solely on Chago as she continued to stroke his hair and caress his cheek. He never wanted to move again.

Golden clouds formed high above and a distant chorus of Angels heralded Divinity's imminent arrival. Lucifer took one look at the rays beaming down from the sky and cowered. The grayed polyester of his leisure suit smoked beneath the pure light. He cast a furtive glance in their direction then latched onto Archon's wrist and disappeared with Archon's remains before Xander could stop him.

Divinity touched down a moment later. “Where's Archon?”

“Lucifer just stole the body.” Xander fidgeted despite his formal stance. “You didn't give me orders to detain him.”

“Body? Archon's not dead. The venom only paralyzed him.”

Shit. Chago struggled to sit up. If the bastard still lived, Irena was still in danger.

Xander bowed his head. “I'm sorry. Please forgive my lapse in judgment.”

She considered him for a long moment then turned away, her iridescent gaze diverted to Chago. “This means our contract is void.”

“What?” He did scramble upright then, only to fall back as dizziness overwhelmed him. “I fulfilled my end of the bargain.”