Chapter 26
Bartol
They’d searched all the hotels around London without finding any trace of the demon. Even Haagenti’s followers appeared to be lying low and avoiding detection. Bartol, Caius, and Yerik had broadened their hunt to include nearby towns in the hope something might turn up. Unfortunately, it meant using their powers to flash because they couldn’t waste travel time at this stage. If they didn’t find the demon soon, there would likely be untold destruction and death.
Bartol flashed to Northfleet to check on a quaint hotel in the town that fit Haagenti’s preferences. Not wanting to risk running into the stones, he arrived a quarter mile away and walked the rest of the distance. Just as he reached a block away, he stumbled to a halt.
His power had begun to drain fast. Bartol struggled but managed to take a couple of steps back to free himself. He breathed a sigh of relief and turned his gaze toward the hotel down the road—a three-story Victorian building with wide bay windows. It was near a busy town center with people out walking and enjoying their early Friday evening. Nothing stood out from what Bartol could see, but a Gregorian stone wouldn’t be at the hotel unless Haagenti was using the place.
He pulled out his cell phone and called Caius. “I think I may have found him.”
“Where?”
“In Northfleet.” Bartol described his current location.
“Have you actually seen the demon?” Caius asked.
“Not yet…wait.” Bartol caught sight of Haagenti leaving the hotel with a large bag in hand, making his way toward a limousine that had just pulled up. He had his cane with him as well, but it appeared to be a prop more than anything. “He’s leaving.”
“On foot?”
“No,” Bartol said, flagging down the first car that drove by him. As much as he didn’t want to use his powers this close to the demon, he couldn’t risk Haagenti getting away. He pushed compulsion on the hapless driver to let him inside and directed him to follow the limousine.
Caius’ voice came out impatient, “What’s going on?”
“Call Yerik and tell him I’ve found the demon.” Bartol paused to instruct the human driver to keep his distance. “Both of you should check the hotel after that to see if there’s anything useful inside. Once I know where I’m going, I’ll instruct you where to meet me.”
He hung up to Caius’ protests. His human driver had gotten too close to the limousine while stopped at a traffic light, causing Bartol’s power to drain again. He clenched his teeth, waiting until enough distance separated the vehicles to give him his strength back. They drove in a northwesterly direction for several minutes before reaching the River Thames and crossing the Queen Elizabeth II bridge. The demon took a few more turns after that before stopping outside a nondescript warehouse. Bartol had his driver stop a little over a block away, noting there were quite a few supernaturals patrolling the area—all Haagenti’s followers.
Bartol let the poor driver go, compelling him to forget the experience and to go on about his business. Then he called Caius back. The men hadn’t found Tormod or anyone else of relevance at the hotel. They only discovered that the demon had checked out that morning with no plans to return. Bartol gave Caius and Yerik precise details on his current location, not wanting them to inadvertently flash inside the danger zone.
“Where is he?” Yerik growled as soon as he arrived.
As usual, the daimoun wore nothing more than his kilt, which only covered half his hairy chest, despite the cold winter weather. Fortunately, they had all turned invisible, so no one was able to see the crazy immortal except Bartol and Caius. Yerik would draw the attention of Haagenti’s security for certain otherwise.
Bartol gestured down the street. “He just went past that gate and into the warehouse.”
“Let’s kill him and get my son back!”
Yerik took off down the sidewalk like an enraged bull. Caius attempted to grab his arm, but the daimoun shook him off and kept going. He made it about twenty feet down the road before he hit the boundary with the Gregorian stones. The powerful man clutched the building wall next to him and faltered on his next step. It was like quicksand and would only get worse the closer one got. Finally, Yerik turned around and slowly made his way back.
His vermillion eyes glowed with frustration. “Those damn stones are a problem. I thought you two were exaggerating, but they are more powerful than I thought.”
“I suppose some things are best experienced firsthand,” Bartol said, attempting to be diplomatic.
Yerik glanced back at the warehouse, fists clenched. “We should scout the entire area to see if the demon has surrounded the place with more stones or if there may be a weak spot.”
Bartol nodded. “That was my thinking as well.”
“I’ll go in that direction.” Yerik pointed off to the left. “You two can go around the other way, and we’ll meet in the middle.”
Whenever possible, the daimoun chose to work alone, so it wasn’t surprising he choreographed this particular plan. Bartol wasn’t going to bother arguing with a man whose son was missing and could possibly be inside the warehouse. If it helped Yerik to take charge, at least they were getting the job done and making progress.
“Be careful,” Bartol warned. “And look for any places they may be hiding the Gregorian stones so that we can direct the sensors later on where to find them.”
They’d also need to figure out how many each team member would need to nullify before the assault force could get inside the warehouse. This mission wasn’t only about taking out the demon, but also stopping Haagenti’s followers and rescuing Tormod.
“Of course.” Yerik strutted away, gaze roaming as he went.
Bartol and Caius headed in the opposite direction, taking note of the boundary and how far it covered. Their search was slow going because it was even broader than expected and more often than not, they got sucked into the power drain.
“If we’ve got to attack this place,” Caius said, out of breath as he stepped back from the Gregorian stone’s reach for the fifth time. “It is going to require a large force.”
“Agreed. I’ve counted at least thirty of the demon’s followers so far.” Bartol frowned in the direction of the warehouse, which they couldn’t see from their current vantage point behind other buildings. He’d been noting the patrols and the guards along the way.
“There’s likely more that we can’t see.”
Bartol didn’t doubt it. “The sensors will have to do a scouting mission before the attack so that we can get a precise number.”
One thing he had learned, if one had sensors on their side, they had an advantage. Sensors were built for reconnaissance, and it came in handy that neither magic nor demon essence could touch them. It was too bad their race had mostly been at odds with supernaturals over the millennia.
“I fear for what that demon has done to Tormod.” Caius frowned as the warehouse came into view again. “The energy around that place is very dark.”
Bartol was trying very hard not to think about that, but he feared the same. “We’ll deal with it when we must.”
They found Yerik at the other end of the warehouse, nearly at the halfway point from where they started.
“The demon has fortified this place well,” the daimoun said, stopping in front of them. “I found no weaknesses in his security.”
“Neither did we,” Bartol replied.
Caius worked his jaw. “Let’s return to the house and compile our notes. Remiel should be coming soon, and we’ll need to share what we found with him.”
“I don’t see the point in working with that damned archangel,” Yerik growled.
They hadn’t told the daimoun about Bartol’s father yet but only because he never stayed around long enough for them to discuss it. “I think you’ll find there’s a good reason we’ve allied with the archangels this time.”
Yerik grunted. “We’ll see.”
The three of them flashed back to Caius’ house, going straight into the front reception room. To their surprise, they found Remiel and another archangel waiting for them. Bartol found himself staring at a man that didn’t appear that much different from him—except a few inches taller and slightly broader shoulders. They shared the same eyes and golden brown hair, both cut close to the shoulders. The power radiating off of the archangel was significantly greater, though, making him appear almost larger than life.
Remiel gestured toward the man next to him. “This is Raguel, your father.”
Over the last few days, Bartol had tried to think what he might say to the man who’d sired him, but he never could find the right words. He stared at Raguel, finding his father’s eyes intense and ageless. The archangel—even in his weakened state—glowed with sheer power and stood out above everyone else in the room. His gaze ran over Bartol from head to toe before focusing on the burn scars. A flash of anger reflected in his features before he covered it up and his face became an impenetrable mask.
“It is good to see you again, son,” Raguel said, voice deep and commanding.
Bartol took a moment to reply. “Again?”
“I had a month with you and your mother before your birth was discovered, and I was forced to leave,” he explained.
No one had ever told Bartol that before. “I didn’t know.”
Raguel’s features softened a fraction. “You once urinated on me while I was changing your…diaper—I believe that is the current term.”
Of all the things Bartol expected his father to say, he’d never guessed his embarrassing activities as a small child would be one of them. “My apologies.”
Raguel’s lips twitched. “Your mother found it rather humorous.”
“I am certain she did,” Bartol said, vaguely remembering his mother’s laugh. She’d always been full of joy and found happiness in everything.
The archangel glanced over at Remiel. “I will take my son to the back garden so that we might have some time alone.”
“Of course.”
Bartol and his father made their way through the house, using the backdoor near the kitchen to exit. Though the grounds were not overly large, Caius must have hired someone to tend them when he was away because they were well-maintained—even in the winter. Raguel led them over to a bench under the tree, taking a seat and patting the space next to him.
He waited until Bartol was settled before speaking. “I did not think I would ever have the occasion to see you again.”
“I had no idea you weren’t fallen.”
“I sensed you nearby when you were in Purgatory,” he said, staring off into the distance. “Even in my deep slumber, your pain and suffering called out to me. As my son, and my flesh and blood, it tormented me to be aware of what was being done to you and unable to stop it.”
Bartol was startled by the revelation, but he didn’t want to talk about what he’d endured in that place—not even with his father. He wasn’t ready for that. But did the powerful archangel know what kind of life he’d led and some of the less than angelic things he’d done? “Did they tell you why I was there?”
“Yes, but it is not my place to judge—not after my own transgressions.”
They hardly compared to Bartol’s. Meeting Raguel now, it bothered him deeply that his sire had been left alone and cold in such a horrible place for so long even if he had slept through most of it. “If I’d known you were there…”
“You could have done nothing. We all have prices to pay for our crimes…” His gaze ran to the burn scars on Bartol once more. “Some steeper than others.”
“True.” He could not believe he was having this conversation with his father.
Raguel was quiet for a moment. “How did your mother pass? They told me very little about her, though I preferred to find out from you anyhow.”
“A fever swept the village,” Bartol said, looking away. “I was six years old at the time and did not have the power to help her back then.”
He wasn’t much of a healer now, but he might have been able to do something to prevent his mother from dying. Unfortunately, nephilim didn’t develop their powers until adulthood, and even then it was a slow process that allowed them time to adjust as they matured.
“She is in Heaven now if that is any consolation.” Raguel worked his jaw. “But for me, it is as if I saw her less than a week ago. It is still difficult to comprehend how much time has passed.”
“Will you be allowed to visit her?” Bartol asked.
The archangel shook his head. “No. That is my penance, but at least I am able to see you again, which is more than I dared ever hope.”
“You and I both.”
“Is it true that you’ve mated?” Raguel asked, curiosity in his golden gaze.
“Yes.”
The archangel studied him. “You are finding your relationship complicated, I see.”
“She is not the kind of woman I expected, but I wouldn’t trade her for the world.” Of that much, Bartol was certain.
“You’ll find happiness with her, but give it time to develop and flourish,” the archangel said, countless years of wisdom in his tone.
It was more than a little awkward speaking with his father about his love life. “Remiel told me you could help me gain better control while fighting the demon.”
“I will do what I can, but we are short on time.” Raguel worked his jaw. “I spent years training my legion to conquer the berserker rage that comes with a kill. Once the demon essence touches you, it is easy to let it take over.”
“How do I stop that from happening?”
“There is a technique to it we can practice today, but it will only be a start. Your mate will have to be the one to pull you out of it the rest of the way with the bond you’ve forged,” he said.
“I don’t want my mate anywhere close to here,” Bartol growled.
Raguel gave him a look of understanding. “I do not blame you, but the first demon you killed was weak compared to the one we will face. Even with the two of us working together, you are going to be overwhelmed by the essence. The rage and bloodlust will take over, which will leave us two choices—kill you or let your mate bring your sanity back. I prefer the latter.”
Bartol stood, fists clenched. “Remiel lied when he said you could help.”
“I would make you as great at killing demons as myself if I had more time, son.” His father rose and put a gentle hand on Bartol’s shoulder. “But the last thing I want is to put you down when I’ve only just reunited with you.”
“Can you guarantee my mate will not be harmed?” he asked.
Raguel nodded. “We will not allow anything to happen to her—arrangements have already been made.”
“I still don’t like it,” Bartol growled.
“I don’t expect you do, and I would never have wanted to put such a difficult task before your mother, but there is no choice in this instance. Now, before your mate can do her part, you must learn how to do yours.” The archangel looked up at the sky, uttering some sort of mystical words. A moment later, a human appeared before them in the garden. It growled, and its eyes glowed red. “This person is possessed.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Draw the demon essence out and destroy it,” his father said, as if it was that simple.
Bartol stared at the rabid man. “What if I lose control?”
“This one is too weak to trouble you all that much. Hardly consequential.”
“I am not!” the human snarled.
Reflexively, Bartol grabbed the man by the neck and pressed a hand to his chest. Tendrils of the demon’s essence were there, just under the skin. He pulled on the dark energy, letting it flow into his palm until nothing malevolent was left inside the human body. Then Bartol clenched his fist and crushed the demon’s soul. Power surged through him like a tidal wave, bringing him to his knees.
“Think of your mate,” his father’s stern voice said from somewhere far away.
Bartol did as the archangel instructed, envisioning Cori much the way he did in the cave while Caius was removing the demon’s mark from his flesh. She was there in her kitchen, making him a pot of stew. It brought peace and inner calm to him.
Raguel’s voice spoke once more, “Now release the energy.”
It was a struggle. Bartol didn’t want to let the energy go, but as he kept his mind on Cori, it helped him to focus. He pushed the remnant energy from him, allowing it to escape into the atmosphere in tiny, harmless molecules. As he came back to himself, he found the human man slumped on the ground, skin ashen from death. Bartol hadn’t saved his life, but at least his soul could move on now.
“Good, son.”
Bartol rose back to his feet. “I had no idea that was possible.”
“Yes, but unfortunately, that was an easy one.” Raguel’s features took on a grim expression. “You will need to practice a lot more if you are to survive the battle that lies ahead.”
“Does the process always kill the hosts?”
The archangel glanced down at the body, sorrow in his gaze. “More often than not it does. Demons destroy human minds and bodies quickly, so unless you find the person very soon after possession, their chances are not good.”
Bartol made a mental note to return the dead man’s body to his family. At the very least, he could give them closure. “Are there more possessed humans I can practice on?”
“Much more—particularly right now with a powerful demon on the rise.” His father stared up at the sky, and another human appeared, a young woman this time. “Do it again.”
Bartol leaped to the task, determined to learn and save Cori from facing incredible danger to save him. They spent the rest of the evening practicing.