“How many times does Alex have to say no?” Aramael countered. “I won’t let you take her.”
Alex lifted the heavy, hardened steel blade. Gabriel had said it would slow down a Fallen One, but that’s not what Seth was. He wasn’t an angel at all but something other. Something more. What if it didn’t work against him?
The blue crackles came together, weaving themselves into a wall before Seth. “Then you’ll die,” he told Aramael. “Again.”
Over Seth’s shoulder, Alex met her soulmate’s calm certainty. Aramael’s mouth curved upward in the slightest of smiles. He knew what she considered. Nodded his approval. Blinked his good-bye. He turned his attention back to Seth.
“So be it,” he said.
Alex stretched a hand toward him.
Aramael threw his wings and arms wide. Hardened feathers splintered the wall tiles and tore through a metal stall door with a screech, then swept toward Seth. Power struck crackling energy with a force that gusted outward, shattering mirrors, sinks, toilets. And then Alex swung the sword with all the strength she possessed, down in an arc toward Seth.
The blade sliced through the flesh between Seth’s ribs and hip. An unearthly bellow ripped through the washroom. The clash of divine energies exploded into a blaze of white.
Aramael dropped like a stone.
Chapter 86
Mika’el’s blade sliced through collarbone as if it were butter, cleaving all the way down to the center of the Fallen One’s chest and shattering the hardened sphere of immortality hidden within. He tugged the sword free with grim satisfaction. The third kill in a fight only fifteen minutes old. Samael truly had forgotten the power with which he dealt.
A hand settled on his shoulder, and he looked into Gabriel’s piercing, deep blue eyes. Impeccably trained, the others closed around them in a protective ring, blocking them from harm while they spoke.
“The woman is safe?” he asked.
She nodded. “But we have another problem. A Guardian is seeking our help. A Fallen One is wreaking havoc in a crowded gathering place not far from here—a mall, he called it.”
“All right. We can take care of those remaining here. You go—and Gabriel, fly there. Use your physical approach to draw him out and away from the mortals.”
“I’ll be seen.”
His grim gaze swept over the wreckage surrounding them. The cardinal rule might have had its place once, but no longer. Not after this. “I’m pretty sure our secret is out.”
Gabriel nodded, turned, and launched herself through what little remained of the exterior wall. Mika’el turned back to the fight, but before he could choose a target, a small hand tugged on his sleeve. He glanced down at the ethereal, almost translucent figure of a Guardian, its fierce look of concentration a measure of the effort it took to achieve even this much physical form.
“It’s all right,” he told it. “Gabriel has gone to the mall. She’ll look after the Fallen One there.”
“But I haven’t come from a mall,” the Guardian objected as he turned away. “There is a museum a short distance from here. Two Fallen Ones have attacked the patrons there.”
A second attack? Hell. Mika’el caught Zachariel’s eye and the Archangel raised an eyebrow. Mika’el nodded. Stepping back from the battle, Zachariel launched himself in Gabriel’s wake. The wisp of a Guardian followed.
Mika’el raised his sword. Two Archangels remained, along with nine Fallen. The odds were still firmly in their—
“Mika’el!” Raphael’s voice pulled his attention away from the battle yet again.
Mika’el looked toward him, then followed the tip of the other’s head. Another Guardian had shimmered into form along the wall, and two more were taking shape on either side of her.. In an instant, Mika’el understood.
“Stop!” he roared.
Silence dropped over the assembly, broken only by the harsh breathing of winded fighters. And Samael’s chuckle.
“You’ve figured it out.”
“How many?” Mika’el demanded. “How many have you sent out?”
“As many as I needed to. One more activates every three minutes until I say otherwise.”
“Call them off.”
“Not until I have what I came for.”
“I can get more help,” Mika’el said. “Heaven still outnumbers you.”
“You can,” Samael agreed. “It wouldn’t bother me in the least to fight the entire war right here on Earth. But are you sure that’s what you want?”
Mika’el bit back what he would have liked to reply and again growled, “Call them off. We’ll talk.”
“We have nothing to talk about, warrior. I’ll call off my soldiers when I have Seth safely away from here. Not a minute before.”
Impotent fury snarled through Mika’el. He’d been outmaneuvered, and every soul in this room knew it. Viciously he sheathed his sword and motioned for a reluctant Raphael to do the same.
“Fine,” he growled. “Go. Take your new leader and—” Breaking off, he spun on his heel, his gaze raking the destruction around them. He swung back to a calm Samael. Too calm to have lost what he’d come for. “Where is he?”
“Claiming what’s his, I should imagine.”
Before Mika’el could move, Samael’s sword came up, blocking his way.
The traitorous former Archangel
Fists clenched, Mika’el glared at the angel who had once fought at his side. Naphil or not, the woman deserved better than this, and yet he could not go to her. Could do nothing to save her. Not without unleashing Armageddon itself, here and now.
Samael smiled, smugly, unpleasantly, arrogantly. He lowered his sword and sheathed it. “I knew I could count on your sense of honor, Mika’el. It has always been your greatest weakness. One day it will be your undoing.”
“And arrogance yours,” Mika’el retorted. “Now collect your prize and—”
A bellow cut him off, filled with rage and a deep, gut-wrenching anguish.
Without a word, Samael bolted for the back of the office where Gabriel had stowed the Naphil. Mika’el followed.
Chapter 87
Bloodied sword still in hand, Alex stared down at the two figures lying amid the wreckage. Water from the broken toilets swirled across the floor, running crimson where it mixed with blood, trickling into the emergency floor drain with a hollow musicality. Seth writhed in agony; Aramael lay motionless. Shattered glass and porcelain littered the room.
From beyond the washroom, she heard the sound of footsteps running, then the door burst open. A Fallen One skidded to a halt in the opening, his gaze going first to the bodies on the floor, then to Alex. Jaw hanging
