The Second Death (13 page)

He gave her a tentative smile of his own before she finished her spin and faced forward again. For the first time since his life as Asaph, he felt as if he belonged to something greater than himself, and Los Nefilim were slowly becoming a part of him.

Amid the soft soles of the mortals, Los Nefilim's footsteps created a sharp beat: one, two, and a hard stamp on three.

Rafael picked up the rhythm and ran in time to the adults. “
Bulerías,
” he chanted the name of the dance step under his breath, and then he counted out loud. “One, two”—­he stamped on three—­“four, five”—­another stamp on six. A spark scorched the floor beneath his heel.

They marched to the double doors and went outside. Guillermo halted them on the porch. Arcades shielded them from the open courtyard. Only a few mortals moved around the yard.

Beneath the cloudy sky it was even more apparent to Diago that Die Nephilim's song was gone. Not a single note lingered in the air overhead.

“The kitchens,” Guillermo said.

Eva pointed to the right. Then they were walking again, faster now, their movements still synchronized. A hot wind cut through the autumn chill and gusted down at them.

“It's too warm,” Diago said.

Guillermo scanned the darkening sky.

Lavender light burned behind the clouds. Streaks of sangria and silver poured across the heavens, followed by streams of orange that left tails tipped in black. A burst of thunder crashed overhead. Blood-­colored notes dripped into the yard.

Just like that, Diago's chromesthesia had returned.

The profusion of color and sound disoriented him. Dizziness smacked him like a club. He almost stepped on Rafael, but Maria snatched the boy from Diago's path. Miquel grabbed his sleeve and barely prevented him from colliding into one of the pillars. He was vaguely aware of Guillermo moving to his side.

Guillermo took Diago's arm and steadied him. “Can you keep walking?”

Diago nodded and forced himself forward. “Angels.” He pointed at the sky. “I saw Engel and Prieto. They are in the sky. A third one is there. They're fighting.” That explained Engel's sudden departure. He must have realized Prieto was gone.
He also must have discovered my deception.
Diago swallowed hard and ignored the fear creeping into the pit of his stomach.

Guillermo hesitated by a column and looked up at the sky. “The third is probably the American, Yellowcloud. It's out of our hands now.”

“Are we ever really out of it?” Diago asked.

Guillermo spat. “Never.”

As suddenly as it began, the episode of chromesthesia passed. Diago rubbed his eyes. The occurrences were becoming less frequent and of shorter duration. “I'm okay,” he announced. He picked up his pace.

Guillermo slapped his back and moved to the front of their small company again.

Miquel squeezed his arm before releasing him and dropping back to the rear.

Diago strode to Maria's side and placed Rafael between them.

His son looked up. “Are you okay now, Papa?”

“Yes. Are you tired?”

He shook his head and danced alongside Maria with a determined look on his face.

Eva scouted ahead, weaving in and out of the arcades. She moved with the grace of a great black butterfly with wings of crimson and white. Her elegant dance came to an abrupt halt at the edge of the porch. When they reached her, they all saw why.

Garcia stood in the courtyard. Fierro and Moreno were behind him, along with the German orderly.

Guillermo's group automatically formed a protective circle around Rafael. Eva and Maria flanked the child. Miquel held his place at the rear of their group. Diago stood beside Guillermo.

Overhead, the angels warred in a clash of thunder and lightning. A hot wind tore at the fronds of the palm trees.

The lid of Guillermo's lighter clicked twice.

“You're all under arrest,” said Garcia. “The Princess, Sariel, has lost her ability to guide Spain. Her own angels are bartering with daimons. She has forgotten who we are.”

Guillermo interrupted him. “Who are we, Garcia?”

“We are Los Nefilim. We were created to serve as the angels' warriors in the earthly realm.”

“And I do,” said Guillermo. “I serve Sariel's will. I swore my oath to her. If I usurp her rule, then I will be a traitor—­like you.”

Garcia's cheeks reddened. “You have polluted yourself and Los Nefilim!”

Sparks of rage flew from Guillermo's eyes. “I've done no such thing.”

Garcia pointed a shaking finger at Guillermo. “You consort with daimons and have inducted them into your ranks.” He spat in Diago's direction. “Sariel's negligence has allowed you to lead Los Nefilim amok.” He lowered his hand. “Well, that is done. Prince Aker is taking over the principality of Spain, and he has designated me to lead Los Nefilim in his name. Hand over the child. We'll determine whether or not he's been contaminated by the daimons.”

Diago asked, “And if he has?”

Guillermo shot him a sharp look, but Diago ignored him. In any other confrontation he would take a subservient role to Guillermo, but not when it concerned his son.

Garcia didn't hesitate with his answer. “If the boy is unclean, we'll give him the second death.”

“Christ,” Miquel whispered.

Guillermo said, “You're not getting the boy. And we're not handing ourselves over to you. I will not abdicate my rule to you or anyone else. Stand down.”

A slow rain started to fall. Garcia seemed unperturbed by Guillermo's refusal. “You have allowed the abomination of daimons to infiltrate Los Nefilim.”

From the corner of his eye, Diago saw his son flinch. He clenched his pistol's grip.

Guillermo touched his wrist. “No guns. We settle this like Nefilim.”

Diago nodded and allowed his hand to fall away from the weapon.

Garcia shouted, “Bow before me! I am the new king of Los Nefilim.”

Thunder crashed overhead.

Garcia reached up and grabbed the thunder's black vibrations in his fists. He sang a note and twisted the noise into a sigil. Behind him, the German joined his voice with Fierro and Moreno to create a concussive glyph.

If he hits us with that, it will be enough to stun us.
Diago didn't need to know what would happen next. Garcia wanted them alive. Probably for the same reason Guillermo wanted Garcia—­information.

The skies opened up and the rain poured from the heavens.

Garcia fired the glyph with his Nefilim's voices. He threw the ward upward.

A bolt of lavender lightning struck the sigil. Engel. Even while fighting Prieto and Yellowcloud, the angel assisted his Nephilim.

The lightning shattered the glyph into six bolts of sound.
One for each of us,
Diago had time to think before Guillermo's deep voice ruptured the air.

Eva and Maria joined their melody with Guillermo's song. Miquel picked up the thread of the music and added his voice to their choir. Diago listened for the music's weakness. There. Between the chords of Guillermo's bass and Eva's soprano, the register was thin.

Diago caught up with them on the refrain. He sharpened the song with his tenor. Behind him, Rafael added his boyish soprano to the chorus. Eva and Maria opened their hearts to Diago and Rafael. They saw Diago's darkness and did not flinch. They wrapped Rafael in acceptance and joy, and drew the child into their song. Rafael leapt into the air and executed a twirl, adding his amber vibrations to their sigil.

Guillermo took the combined vibrations of their voices and formed a shield designed to absorb Garcia's sound. When Garcia's thunderous noise struck Guillermo's buffer, Diago's head rocked. But he didn't falter in his song, nor did the others. Together they held the shield, and Garcia's bolts of sound died.

Diago didn't wait to recover. He stepped past Guillermo and into the torrent of rain. He skimmed the sole of his foot over a puddle. Water sprayed in his wake, leaving droplets of sound. Diago sang a note and formed a sigil. Miquel joined his song and they created a ward to catch the wind. Eva, Maria, and Rafael twirled like dervishes. The skirts of the twins' habits raised the wind and water, turning it into a miniature tornado. Rafael shaped the tempest between his palms. Guillermo charged the ward with his voice and sent it flying.

Garcia formed a quick song. Moreno and Fierro followed Garcia's lead. The German caught on a beat too late. The tornado grabbed him and flung him into a nearby building. The sound of bones crunching carried across the yard.

The wind picked up speed. Lightning flashed blue and white across the sky. Orange and crimson light ringed the clouds roiling across the heavens.

Before Garcia had time to recover, Guillermo summoned another sigil and charged it with his song. Miquel sang with Guillermo. The twins harmonized. Rafael let loose a cry as he leaped into the air.

Diago caught the notes together and cut a sharp sigil, charging it with the vibrations of his song. The ward sliced the air as it hurtled toward Garcia, Moreno, and Fierro.

Overhead, a brilliant flash of silver lightning turned the darkness bright as day. The electric charge descended into the yard and fired Diago's sigil. Static electricity made their hair stand on end. The bolts of lightning engulfed Garcia and his Nefilim, leaving them flopping in the puddles, helpless against the rain.

As suddenly as it began, the storm ended. The sun rolled behind the clouds and sent crimson and orange rays to border the storm. The light burned brighter and brighter. Diago noticed the lavender was gone.

Prieto and Yellowcloud had won.

The rain came down softer, feathering away until it was merely patters against the roof tiles.

Diago panted in the sudden quiet. Without thinking of who might be watching, he reached out and took Miquel's hand. His lover smiled and touched his forehead to Diago's brow.

Miquel murmured, “Are you all right?”

Diago nodded and turned in time to catch Rafael in his trembling arms. He lifted his son, checking him for wounds. Rafael was fine.

“Let's move, ­people,” Guillermo growled at them. “We're not safe yet.”

A nun emerged from an alley and ran toward the downed Nefilim. Diago realized it was Sofia.

“Quick!” she called out to someone behind her. “Be quick if you want them alive! They have cyanide capsules in their mouths.”

Her words broke through their joy, but even as she reached Garcia, Diago saw that the Nefilim were dead.

Garcia grinned up at the sky. His eyes open to the last of the falling rain.

Two uniformed Urban Guards suddenly appeared. They were followed by a Nefil in a worn suit. He was older, with oiled black hair and soft gray eyes. His face appeared as rumpled as his suit.

Guillermo glared at him. “It took you long enough, Santiago.”

Santiago reddened at Guillermo's rebuff. “I'm sorry, Don Guillermo. I had to circumvent Garcia's orders and charm the Chief Inspector. The affair required finesse.”

Sofia loosened her veil and shook free her long hair. “We have Jaso and Acosta in custody. I've ordered my ­people to take them in for questioning.”

“Yes. Thank you, Corvo.” Santiago turned to face someone behind Diago. He made languid shooing motions with his hands. “Please, go back inside, everyone. I am Inspector Carlos Santiago.” He lifted his jacket so they could see his badge. “Everything is under control now.”

Several mortals lingered on the porch for a few seconds before they returned indoors, murmuring amongst themselves.

Dr. Vales detached himself from the crowd. Pushing against those who were going back inside, the young doctor came forward. With a sideways glance at Diago, Vales faced Santiago. “What the hell happened here? Garcia and his men said that Dr. Alvarez was under suspicion for the Ferrers' murders.”

Santiago blinked lazily, as if noticing the mortal for the first time. “And you are?”

“Vales, Dr. Vales. I signed off on Alvarez's admission to the hospital.”

“Ah,” Santiago assessed the mortal. “I'm afraid it was Inspector Garcia who was trying to cover his own crimes. We've been investigating him for several weeks. It was an internal affair.”

Diago admired Santiago's new spin on the story. Without telling a lie, he had just outlined the entire situation.

“Sergeant Corvo”—­Santiago gestured at Sofia, who had shed her nun's habit and now waited beside Garcia's body—­“was undercover here at your hospital. Her sisters, Señoras Eva and Maria Corvo, were assisting. Dr. Alvarez was brought in from Sevilla to help us flush Garcia into the open. Don Guillermo graciously volunteered to help. Everything was going according to plan until Garcia and his cohorts abducted Dr. Alvarez and his son.”

Vales wasn't entirely appeased by the explanation. “
Dr.
Alvarez shot three ­people.” He pointed back toward the hospital with a shaking hand. “Aren't you interested in that?”

Santiago matched Vales's tone. “
Dr.
Alvarez is a veteran. He's seen active duty, and his ability to handle himself under adverse conditions was the reason we wanted him involved in our investigation. If he shot them, they needed to die.”

Rafael rested his cheek on Diago's shoulder. Santiago came to Diago's side and ruffled the child's hair. Rafael gave him a wan smile.

Santiago smiled back. “The little guy looks like he's had a rough day. Why don't we let the doctor take his son home?” He tilted his head at Sofia. “Sergeant Corvo, would you escort Don Guillermo and his ­people to their vehicles?”

“Of course, Inspector.” Sofia gestured for them to follow her.

Diago followed Guillermo.

“Dr. Alvarez!” Vales called. “Will you please come to my office tomorrow?”

Diago hesitated. He should just keep walking. Instead, he turned back. “Not tomorrow.” Maybe not next week. “But soon.”