trying to catch her breath and control the pain that burned along her nerve endings. This was nothing. Andarta was playing with her. Things would get much worse before the end.
Piers was close by; she could sense his fear and despair. She’d made things worse. She should have known that. He’d blame himself for her death.
She struggled to her hands and knees, bracing herself for the next bolt. Andarta smiled as she stretched out her hand.
Then the smile froze. She lowered her arm, her eyes narrowing on something behind Roz. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Christian and her father had entered the chamber. They’d halted just inside. The Key was clenched in the Walker’s fist, and shock was stamped on both their faces.
“You can’t stop this,” Andarta said. “The challenge has been accepted.”
Ignoring her, the Walker strode over to where Asmodai stood beside Piers. He turned to the demon. “Get out. Now.”
“Why?”
“There’s no time for explanations. Just get out, or you die.”
Asmodai looked from the Walker to Roz and back again. Some expression flickered in his eyes, wonder, awe. She didn’t have time to analyze it because he whirled around and vanished from the chamber.
What the hell was going on?
The Walker reached out a hand toward her. He murmured something and inside her, the door was flung open.
“Fuck.”
The word came from Piers. He was staring at her. She peered down and saw her skin glowing with a pale luminescence. White light blazed out of her, lighting up the cavernous chamber, flaring off the black walls. She turned slowly. Andarta stood motionless, her eyes stretched wide.
Roz threw back her head as the power streamed through her, bathing her in raw energy. She was on fire but didn’t burn, the tongues of white flame licking over her skin.
Focusing her mind on Andarta, the light poured out from her. The demoness screamed, as the flames engulfed her body.
Shock held Roz immobile. What had she done? But she couldn’t stop it now. In panic, she turned to Piers, but the fire hadn’t touched him. He huddled against the wall, his hand shading his eyes. Christian stood beside him.
And all around her, the white fire burned.
The Walker approached the invisible barrier that encircled her and the burning demoness. “Rosamund, call it back. You can do it.”
Could she? Did she even want to? But the flames were spreading, leaking out of the circle, crawling along the floor, up the walls.
She closed her eyes. Visualized the door. Pushed it closed. At first, it resisted. She gave a shove, and the door slammed shut.
When she opened her eyes, the fire was gone. In front of her was a pile of ashes—all that remained of Andarta.
Epilogue
“She’s an angel,” the Walker said.
They were back in Piers’ office at the Order. Everyone was there. And they were all staring at her. Even the goddamn cat.
“Hey, stop gawping at me like I’m about to sprout wings and a halo and start singing halleluiah!” Roz twitched her shoulders as if she could already feel the appendages growing.
“Really? An angel?” Piers asked. He sounded dubious, and who could blame him. He was also studying her as though she might explode. She scowled instead.
“Quarter angel, actually,” the Walker replied. “Her mother was the child of a fallen angel.”
“What happened to him?” Roz asked. Her mother had always said she was an orphan.
“He was hunted down and executed, along with your grandmother, but the child—your mother— escaped.”
“But who killed them?”
“The angels, of course. If you think the fae don’t like their blood being spread about, you should see what the angels do.”
“Actually, I don’t think I do want to see.”
“What sort of angel?” Christian asked.
“There are different sorts?” This morning she hadn’t believed in angels. Now apparently, there were different types. And she was one of them.
“What sort do you think?” the Walker said. “You saw the light, saw what she did to Andarta.”
“She’s an Avenger.” Asmodai sounded far from happy. “Shit, all these years...” He cast her a look of awe mixed with fear.
What the hell could put that expression on the demon’s face? “An Avenger? What’s that?”
“A Warrior of God, a Wielder of the White Flame.” Christian grinned. “Also known as demons-bane.”
Well, that sounded impressive. The white flame? Was that what she had locked behind the door inside her? It occurred to her that she could have done that fire thing to Asmodai at any time over the past five hundred years. If only she’d known. She bit back a grin.
She was an Angel. Who would have thought it? Problem was she didn’t feel particularly angelic. She glanced up to where Piers paced the room. He was still naked from the waist up, but the sigil was gone from his arm. He looked sexy as hell and suddenly, she wished this meeting over and done with. Piers glanced across and caught her watching him, and a slow smile curved his lips.
She forced her gaze away. There were still things she needed to know. And there would be time later, because she wasn’t going to die. At least not immediately. What a novel idea.
“How did you meet my mother?” she asked the Walker.
“I was the assassin sent to kill her.”
Piers grinned. “Well, that I find easy to believe.”
“And you weren’t tempted?” Roz asked.
“Once I’d seen her, I couldn’t—I loved her from the start. She was the purest person I’d ever met. So I lied, told them I’d killed her, and then helped her hide. Your mother was a latent. She had very little power. She could do some simple healing but nothing else. So she was easy to conceal. But you…” He got up and came to stand in front of her, his hand reaching out to stroke her face. “From the moment you were born, it was obvious you weren’t human. You glowed. We tried to keep you hidden, but it was almost impossible. We had to stay on the move—the angels sensed your birth and were hunting you. As soon as you were old enough, I taught you to hide the power. Lock it away, and after that things were easier.”
“And what about now?” Piers asked.
“They’ll have felt an echo of that power. They’ll know she still lives and will come after her. You must keep her hidden. But now I must go and tell my brother that Andarta has perished.”
Roz watched as he left, her brain processing the information. “Great, just great,” she muttered. So much for not going to die. That hadn’t lasted long. “Will I never run out of people who want to kill me? Just for once I’d like to go to sleep at night and not have to worry about waking up dead.”
Piers came across to where she was sitting. He sank down beside her and pulled her into his arms. “I’ll protect you,” he murmured into her hair.
“You will?”
“Of course. You really think a bunch of asshole angels will get through me?”
She didn’t know. But maybe it was enough that he was there and wanted to protect her.
The truth was there were so many times since this whole thing had started that she could have turned her
