Sword's Blessing (3 page)

“Except it can’t be everything.” Armand frowned “Cyrene is
old.
Way too old to bother with small potatoes like Eli and Samantha.”

“Exactly. Have you heard much about Cyrene?”

“Actually, yeah.” She tilted her head. Armand felt a flash of triumph. It was rare he knew more about a subject than she did. His face fell, though. “She was in Chicago.”

Giselle’s eyes flicked up, studying his face. “She killed your cohorts?”

“Yeah.” Armand looked away. “It was ugly.”

“Terrible.” She wrapped her arms around herself, shivering even in the sunlight.

Armand sipped at his coffee, making sure she didn’t shiver any more. He was better at taking human form than she was. It made her cold, even many years after their ascension. “I’m not kidding. Cyrene is something like four, five thousand years old at least.”

“But…” Gisselle frowned. “How isn’t she a Lucifer, or just swimming in souls? With so much time shouldn’t she be a greater legend like Beelzebub?”

“Normally yeah. As far as intel’s been able to tell though, she never recovered from the madness. She’s unbalanced, makes mistakes, underestimates threats. Her souls keep being sapped by the Lucifers, or they just slip away like she can’t keep them. They don’t have an exact reason why.”

“Then how’s she alive?” Gisselle’s eyebrows knit tightly, considering. “The Damned are too bestial to keep her alive with a weakness like that.”

Armand looked out into the busy street. “She’s crazy and they like it. I don’t know. At a guess I’d say they’re using her. Poor woman.”

“Didn’t you say she killed two of ours?” Gisselle asked, eying him.

“Yeah.” He smiled sadly. “Think about it. If we must withstand Hell to ascend, what must they withstand to be driven to Hell?”

She rolled her eyes. “Sometimes I think you’re better at this forgiveness thing than me, Armand.”

“If you meet Cyrene you’ll understand. She’s not like the other Damned.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Giselle said. “Right now our target is on the move.”

Armand glanced up at Eli and Samantha heading out of the hotel, dressed nicely, smiling, holding hands. He swallowed. To spend a night with Giselle like that. Eli leaned down. With normal eyes, it was only a few inches. As Armand could see it, Eli topped seven feet with the horns. A flash of envy nipped at Armand’s conscience. Eli was a Damned and could hold the woman he loved. They were being chased, but in the end there they were... Together.

And where was he? Sipping coffee with the woman
he
loved, unable to breathe a word lest they be immediately separated to preserve their focus and prevent an ancient curse.

“Armand?”

He jumped at the sensation of Giselle’s voice next to his ear, and whipped around to face her.

She smiled. “Come on. If you’re right and they’ve made us they won’t actually be going to dinner.”

“Yeah, sure.” He got up, and resisted the urge to take her waist. Instead he brushed her hand as they cleaned up their table and left. She glanced up, met his eyes and smiled.

Breath caught, Armand smiled back. He couldn’t touch her body, but at least, as a bonded pair, their souls were never far apart.

* * * *

As they followed Eli and Samantha down the street, their postures grew less relaxed as they bent together, speaking quietly. They didn’t glance behind. They clearly didn’t need to. Giselle pursed her lips. “You think we should back off and let them get a lead?”

He looked around. “Maybe. Something’s not right though.”

She frowned as they turned into a carnival taking place in one of the empty lots. It was packed, but he could feel slime on the back of his tongue, a twitch. They definitely knew they were being followed. There was something else though…

“Besides the fact they already know we’re here?”

He shook his head. “Let’s face it, Giselle, we’re not very good trackers. I think that one’s our fault. It’s something else.”

He looked around, hair on end. It wasn’t even that Samantha and Eli were walking ahead of them as if they were unfazed. They probably knew a pair of Angels weren't a threat against them–especially two as young as Giselle and Armand. Provided they knew who they were. He grimaced. “Do you know if Eli and Samantha are being tailed by anyone else?”

“Besides Cyrene, no,” Giselle shook her head. “The impression I got from the reports was the Damned were letting Cyrene deal with them, since it was a bit of a grudge–”

Armand hissed and grabbed Giselle’s arm, turning her around and walking away. That was it.

Her eyes widened. “Armand?”

“The bad feeling.” He swallowed. How hadn’t he recognized it immediately? That stalking, wailing tension in the air was unmistakable. “I think she’s here, Giselle. She must have realized we were here and followed us straight to Eli and Samantha.”

“What?” Giselle leaned closer into him. “Can you sense her like that?”

“Sort of.” Armand turned between two tents, coming out at a darkparking lot, making a beeline for the fence. “But there’s... a miasma, just a terrible feeling of madness right before you see her.” He clenched his hands. “The problem in Chicago was we had no idea she was so powerful. We’d been told twenty thousand souls, twenty five max.”

“What was she, then?” Giselle asked softly, looking around furtively as she caught on to Armand’s caution.

“Fifty thousand souls. At least.” Armand pulled a piece of fencing aside and gestured for her to go through. No time for elegant escapes, they had to get
out.

Giselle ducked down, and he started to go after her. Suddenly there was a light laugh from behind them, a snigger reverberating on the air. It was as if she were far away. The sound barely reached them, but there was no mistaking it and it sent chills up Armand’s spine. Not again. Last time he had heard that laugh, no one had survived but
him. “Go, Giselle, go.”

“Yes Giselle, go on. Oh how cute. A pair of Angels.”Cyrene’s voice carried, but they still couldn’t see her. Giselle came away from the fence, eyes flitting around as she took Armand’s arm.

“Delectable. You know, those two in Chicago gave me quite a taste for Angel flesh and soul. I didn’t know you lot were sweet tasting or I might have tried harder to shoot you out of the sky…” Cyrene giggled again.

“Show yourself, Cyrene.” Armand growled, putting an arm around Giselle. Two of them in a big city. They hardly stood a chance. If he could see Cyrene, he might be able to tell if they could take to the sky. Knowing what she’d done in Chicago, he didn’t want to risk it… He glanced down at Giselle. Still in complete human form, she was shaking like a leaf. Damn it, why had they been sent after two people stalked by a damned of Cyrene’s caliber?

The Damned woman stepped into view, still giggling. “If it makes you feel better, little Angel boy.”

Armand watched Cyrene closely. Her hair was still blonde but straw-like, flying about her head as if it weighed nothing in the light parking lot breeze. Her eyes were sunken, bright with exhaustion. She looked awful, in sharp contrast to what the files had always said. Just the same as Chicago. “And who is this sweet little thing?” She leaned forward, reaching out with claws dipped in crimson.

Armand took a step back. “Not a chance, Cyrene. You aren’t after us.”

“Wrong!” Cyrene laughed, and reached up, stretching luxuriously. Armand figured she might have been beautiful at one point, but she looked as if someone had strung her out on about ten different drugs and a week of no sleep. “I am very much after you, Angel boy. I missed my first chance to eat you, after all.”

She sauntered forward. Armand steeled himself. There was no point in running. Cyrene could catch him. He knew that very well.

“Armand,” Giselle whispered. “Armand, what–”

“You mean she doesn’t know?” Cyrene asked, and tapped Armand’s nose, then stroked Giselle’s cheek. “How you got away from me? Do any of your superiors know what you did?”

“They know exactly what I did.” Armand growled, and pulled Giselle away. They knew, and Giselle knew if she’d read the reports, and she was still here. He had nothing to fear from her words, but her claws… “Your targets are probably still in the park. Go on after them.”

“You think I’m looking for them still?” Cyrene laughed again. “You misinterpret my goals. I don’t want to kill Eli. I don’t want to kill Samantha.” She licked her lips. “I want to make them suffer.”

“What do we have to do with them?” Giselle said under her breath. “You are mad.”

Cyrene whipped around and snarled. “Is that what you think, girl?”

She lunged forward, slashing out with her claws. With a gasp, Giselle pushed against Armand so they parted and Cyrene’s attack passed harmlessly between them. Cyrene wheeled on Giselle, teeth gnashing. “You think this is madness? Have you even experienced madness? Do you know what it is?” Cyrene laughed, hysterical. “I will show you madness, girl.” She shifted, turning to Armand with a grin.

Armand’s eyes went wide. He could hear Giselle scream, but suddenly the world was in slow motion, his feet stuck in quicksand as he dodged to the side of Cyrene’s lunge.

She clipped his shoulder with three claws. Armand gasped, clutching at the gash. This was bad. His glamour slipped, and then guttered out. He spread his wings for balance as he stumbled back.

Cyrene grinned. “Oh yes,” she purred, stalking toward him.

He could see the blood dripping down her hand, the faint giggles dropping from her lips almost helplessly, worming into his ears.

“I remember that face, those feathers.”

“Giselle, get out,” Armand cried, falling back more and more. If he could give Giselle enough leeway, she could run and make it out. He didn’t stand a chance now, but she did, and he’d sworn to himself. Nothing would hurt her, nothing. “Go, go!”

“Armand!”

She was crying. Why wasn’t she running? This was how it always happened, wasn’t it? He dragged her into danger and she stayed because of him. At least Cyrene killing him would stop the cycle. Giselle would have her ties to him cut, and that was fine. He was her lead belt, dragging her down. He knew now. It was his fault they were caught the first time, his fault this time. He hadn’t realized that Cyrene was there quick enough. She’d be better off without him, more careful.

“Oh no, no.” Cyrene waved, still hysterically giggling. “She can’t run away, boy. Can’t you see?” She stepped aside, gesturing to Giselle still standing, shivering, alone, staring at him with wide, hazel eyes which looked as frightened as he felt. “Nailed to the spot by love. Just think how you could have nailed her if you angels weren’t so
crazy
about office relations!” Cyrene threw her head back and laughed. “Oh look, I made a joke. I’m funny!”

“Armand…”

He swallowed. “Run, Giselle. Please.”

Cyrene looked over at Giselle and smirked as the angel woman quailed and shivered.

“You’re starting to get it, aren’t you, girl? Madness is helplessness. Watching them flay your wounds and being unable to move, hearing the screams of damned souls, unable to touch the Damned who holds them in their vice...” She grinned, and Armand gasped as Cyrene appeared beside him, grabbing his neck and sinking her claws into the flesh there, cackling. “Watching the one you love die…”

“No, Armand!” Giselle’s glamor shattered. Her wings spread in glorious white as she drew the sword of their station, the soft glow of the steel washing over the dirt but unable to illuminate the area around Cyrene. He struggled to watch her charge, knowing there was nothing for it. Cyrene could have taken on their Fore, Giselle didn’t stand a chance.

Cyrene snarled. “Too late.”

The Damned woman jerked her hand. Claws tore through flesh, ligament, and soul. Giselle’s dark hair streamed behind her, wings taking her into the sky as she held the sword aloft before the world went dark. Armand smiled. At least he’d gotten to see her one more time.

* * * *

“What happened to our entourage?” Samantha leaned in to Eli’s chest. “They were there a minute ago.”

“Hmm. Maybe they got different orders?”

“No, it’s something else.” Samantha frowned. “Does the night feel weird?”

Eli paused. He cocked his head for a long moment, hand tightening on Samantha’s hip. “You remember when you said someone could track us by tracking them?”