Lethal Rider

He’d found Regan. She screamed in pain and terror as she bore down on a contraction. Behind her, hanging from the ceiling with razor wire, was Idess, battered and bloody.

And running the entire show was Gethel, standing before an altar, her hand on Regan’s belly, and Pestilence, waiting, a blade poised and ready to drive into the baby that was moments from being born.

* * *

Reaver burst out of the Harrowgate with Ares and Lore, and he didn’t waste time with niceties. “Traitorous bitch.”

He blasted Gethel with hellfire, a minor weapon meant for only the lowliest of demons, but he couldn’t risk anything more powerful with Regan and Idess so close.

Thanatos and Ares dove at Pestilence as Lore went for Idess, but Reaver couldn’t afford to help either of them. Gethel was his priority.

The sounds of battle and pain came from the Horsemen. Regan screamed, and Reaver swore he’d make Gethel scream, too. He blasted her again, but she returned fire with a white hot bolt of lightning that slammed him into the stone wall behind him.

“Get Regan out of here!” There was a shout, a shot, a thump. As he rolled to his feet, he caught a glimpse of Lore and Thanatos, scooping up their females, and Ares, gathering an unconscious Pestilence.

Relief was tempered with apprehension. The qeres had worked. But for how long?

Twin flashes, and they were gone.

“Clever, using the qeres,” Gethel snarled, as she hurled a ball of blue fire at Reaver’s head.

Reaver ducked and retaliated, the flames from his fireball singeing her tunic before she could dive behind the altar Regan had been laid on. “Clever, hiding your tracks behind Harvester. You knew we’d suspect her first.”

She popped up on the other side of the altar. “How did you figure it out?”

As a battle angel bred for destroying demons, Reaver had a few tricks up his sleeve, and he called forth one of them now, focusing on her eyes to hold her with his gaze.

“How? I admit, I didn’t put it together until a few minutes ago. Earlier, Limos confronted Harvester about the khnives that attacked Arik. Only someone very powerful could summon more than one or two, and no one inside Sheoul would use low-level spies as assassins. I remembered the book you were reading in the Hall of Records.” He inched a little closer, narrowing his gaze to focus the stream of holding power into a more concentrated laser.

“It was a Sheoulic book of summoning,” he continued. “You were a little extra twitchy when I found you. So, out of curiosity, I went back to the Hall and found the book. It’s filled with khnive summoning spells.”

She sniffed. “It’s also filled with a thousand other spells.”

“True. Which is why I gave you the benefit of the doubt. Maybe you were researching the angelic ward used against Kynan and Wraith at Aegis Headquarters … that spell is also in the book. But then you took Regan and all the clues fell into place.”

“What clues?”

“While we were in the Hall of Records, you mentioned that The Aegis Headquarters was in Scotland. You shouldn’t have known that… unless you’d employed spies. And then there was Pestilence’s attack on the headquarters in Berlin. You knew that Thanatos had grabbed Regan, didn’t you? It would have been easy for you to alert Pestilence so he could track Thanatos’s movements before the Harrowgate trace grew cold. And what about Harvester’s pendant? She claimed you took it, and I didn’t believe her, but you did. You gave it to The Aegis, along with false information … you convinced them that if they killed Regan’s baby, it would end the Apocalypse, and those fools believed you because you are an angel.” He cursed. “I’ll bet you released the vampires at the Berlin headquarters too, didn’t you? You were hoping they’d kill Regan. You must have been pissed as hell when one of them actually saved her.”

She smiled. “Look at you. You should have been a detective. So bloody smart.”

Reaver’s foot came down on the dagger Pestilence had intended to drive through the baby’s heart. “And look at that,” he said. “Wormwood. Last I heard Pestilence was looking for it. You must have known The Aegis had it. How did you get them to hand it over?”

She licked her lips, slowly, as if savoring her genius. “I traded Harvester’s charm for it. So easy. All I had to do was say that the charm would only provide power if something of equal value was given in exchange.”

Devious bitch. “Why? You said it was powerless. Granted, you’re a big hairy liar, but still … what’s its purpose?”

“You’re the detective. You figure it out.”

Reaver ground his molars. Now she decided to shut up. “One other thing I don’t get. Why send the khnives after Arik? What was the point of killing him?”

“Fun. What, you don’t believe me?” Her dramatic sigh made him grind his teeth harder. “Fine. That really was just pettiness. With Arik dead, his soul would default to Pestilence. He’d be tortured into saying Limos’s name, and she’d have been sent to spend eternity in Satan’s claws.”

What. A. Bitch. How could he have not seen all this coming? Oh, right, maybe because she was a full-fledged heavenly angel who was supposed to fight on the side of good.

“But why save him later, then?” he asked. “When my soul and Limos’s were cast into his body, why did you save his life?”

She shrugged. “He and Limos were already married. Letting him die would serve no purpose, but saving him…”

“Would make you look like a hero, and if anyone was suspicious about you at all, it would remove any doubt that you were playing for Team Good.” Devious.

“See? Smart.”

“But why, Gethel?” As pissed as he was, he was also saddened by this. Gethel had been the one to give him his wings back. She’d guided him through the early days of the transition. He’d felt as though he owed her a debt of gratitude. “When did you turn from our side?”

She hissed, as if Reaver had pushed the button that triggered her evil bitch side. “You took them away from me, you bastard. You were accepted back into Heaven and given the assignment to handle the Horsemen.”

Taken aback, he stopped moving toward her. “I was told you relinquished the duty freely.”

She snarled. “Would you argue with Michael if he suggested that perhaps it was time to turn the duty over to someone else?”

Well, yeah, Reaver would, but he’d never been cautious with his tongue. He could see how others might not argue with the archangel, however.

“And the Horsemen,” she spat. “They didn’t come to my defense. They didn’t care that I was replaced.” Her eyes flashed. “I loved them, and after all I did for them, they didn’t so much as wish me pleasant travels.”

Reaver experienced a moment of sympathy, but it was quickly squashed when she brought down a rain of tiny electrical shocks on him—tiny in size, but each one carried the power of a nuclear power plant. Pain ripped through him, burning his blood and turning his skin to ash. His vision doubled, as if one Gethel wasn’t bad enough.

“Your demon-fighting tricks don’t work on me, Reaver.” Her voice was both amused and cold, laughter hung with icicles.

With a cold smile of his own, he summoned a flame sword and spun it low, letting himself experience a grim satisfaction when it buried itself in her gut. Her cry of agony and fury rattled the chains hanging in the room. She launched herself a foot off the ground and spun, becoming a whirlwind of white.

Reaver hurled himself to the floor as she unleashed a storm of sparks that bored holes in everything they landed on—including Reaver.

Groaning, his body riddled with through-and-through holes that turned him into a giant sieve, he lurched to his feet. Time to play dirty. Spending time with demons while he was fallen was going to pay off.

He threw off the pain, channeling it into anger, and called forth one of his favorite weapons, one he rarely got a chance to use. The shear-whip’s handle was hot in his hand, but ice-cold compared to the molten metal that comprised the scourge part of the weapon.