CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Isabelle lifted a glass of chilled rosé wine to her lips. The sweet wine did little to help her mood, and the show on TV was drowned out by the noise in her brain. Where was he? Was he okay? She had a horrible feeling in her stomach something had gone wrong. She put the wine glass down on the coffee table and sat forward on the couch, resting her head on her hand. Asmodeus paced back and forth in front of the large windows.
She felt bad for him. He wanted to be helping his brothers. His body literally shook with the pent-up desire to be fighting alongside them. But he had been relegated to watching her ass and looking after the injured Cercyn. He paused at the end of each pace to look out the window before turning on his heel and returning to the kitchen. Picking up her glass, she followed him and pulled a beer from the fridge, placing it on the counter for his next pass.
Asmodeus paused as he finished his last full pace around the room and gave her a smile. He took the beer and slid onto a breakfast barstool, where he began to peel the label from the bottle.
Isabelle poked his arm. “I’m sorry you have to be here. I know you would rather be with your brothers. Thank you.” The demon blushed a little. It gave him this insanely cute boy-next-door look.
Asmodeus opened his mouth to speak, but the sound of something breaking in the bedroom had him frowning. Sliding from the kitchen counter, he headed towards the room. Isabelle followed behind him. Maybe Cercyn had tried to get out of bed. Stupid demon was going to open his wounds. Asmodeus pushed open the door and came to a dead halt.
An angel stood over the bed, the sword in his hand impaling Cercyn’s upper shoulder. The demon gripped the blade in bleeding hands, his face etched in pain. He was desperately trying to pull the blade out, but the angel just spread his huge silver and black wings, filling the room with their breadth, and pushed forward. Cercyn hissed as the blade sank deeper into his body.
The smile on the angel’s face was beyond terrifying. His cold, ice-colored eyes focused on her as he drove the blade even deeper. The demon cried out and the angel withdrew the blade, bringing it to his lips and licking the blood from the metal. He looked insane, his brown hair slicked back against his head. God how could anyone emit such evil? In a sick move, he drove the blade backwards, impaling the already half-dead demon once more.
Asmodeus roared and launched himself at the angel, tackling him from the bed and sending him into the wall. The plaster fractured, falling to the carpet as Asmodeus and the angel wrestled on the floor, crushing furniture in the tussle. Cercyn gasped and gripped the sword which still impaled him. He rolled from the bed, crashing to the floor with a cry.
Fists flew. The sound of wings beating and growling male voices drowned out the pained moans of the dying man. Isabelle moved quickly to Cercyn’s side.
The demon tried to pull her behind him. “My Seer…please you must leave,” he hissed, voice low.
Isabelle shook her head. Grabbing the sword by the hilt, she pulled, the blade slowly coming free and with it a fresh surge of blood from the wound. She dropped the sword and covered the bleeding hole in the demon's stomach her hands quickly becoming covered in warm blood. Oh God, his body had sustained so much damage. There was no way he could take much more.
Cercyn closed his eyes, concentration etched on his face. He was panting hard, trying to breathe through the pain. Slowly, he opened his dawn-like eyes and focused on her. Isabelle knew in that second he would fight past it all to keep her safe. Even if it meant his death.
Then, before her eyes, he faded into shadow. Her hand passed through him. The shadows rolling around her fingers felt cool to the touch. She could only liken it to running her hand through something silky, like cream. The shadows began to reform, taking the shape of a great hellhound, its eyes like fresh blood. The gleam of fangs caught the light, and the wounds quickly stopped bleeding. The hound growled low, bounding over the bed and landing on the back of the angel, sinking his deadly teeth into the angel’s wing.
The whole room vibrated with the pained cry. The angel stood, trying to dislodge the hound, his hair becoming slick with gushing black blood. He reached for the beast, his face twisted in immense agony. The sound of cracking bones made Isabelle wince. His roar of pain shook the building.
“Isabelle, get out of here!” Asmodeus shouted over the growls from the hound and the swearing of the angel. He leaped to his feet, his fist impacting the face of the angelic being, his nose exploding with a flood of black blood.
Heart racing in her chest, Isabelle nodded. She jumped to her feet and made a break for the door. For a second the world stopped. What was she supposed to do? Run? Stay in the apartment? Breathe, she told herself. Think.
The angel couldn’t grab her if she were around hundreds of people, right? The idea of leaving Asmodeus and Cercyn to fight on her behalf sat unwell with her, though. Running into the kitchen, she grabbed the only thing she could find to use as a weapon, although she felt foolish brandishing a large kitchen knife. Damn, if she made it through this, she was going to ask the Sins to train her to fight with something that was useful.
A low rumble began under her feet; she was sure the whole building was shaking. A blinding light came from the half open door to the bedroom, then nothing but silence. Dropping behind the kitchen island, she covered her mouth with her hand in an effort to hide her panicked breathing. Listening intently, she could hear heavy panting and footsteps as something heavy was dragged across the tile.
“Where are you, little Seer? Come out, come out wherever you are. Your demon friends need you. I did some damage with my last attack. Looks like they might die.” The voice was foul and cold, with a tone of child-like exuberance to it. Isabelle could tell this bastard was enjoying himself immensely.
She kept still, just listening to the sick sound of something being dragged. She managed to catch a glimpse of Asmodeus being hauled across the floor. His blood-stained face left a red smear against the tile. Her eyes locked on the glass oven door opposite her. In the mirrored finish, she could see the reflection of the angel as he moved toward the kitchen island where she cowered. One of his wings was torn. Isabelle managed to hold in her sob of worry over Cercyn. Her body shook, and she tried to breathe lightly, but it was near impossible.
“I can hear you breathing, little Seer. Do you want your friend here to die? Come on now, I promise I won’t kill him, if you just come with me.” Yeah, right. Sonofabitch was probably waiting until she showed her face before he killed Asmodeus in front of her, just because he could.
Placing the knife gently between her teeth, she forced herself to move. Slowly, one hand and knee at a time, she crawled to the far end of the counter and poked her head around the edge. The angel had left Asmodeus on the floor. He was bleeding freely, blood spreading out from under his body. Isabelle could see the back of the angel as he entered one of the other rooms. It looked like Cercyn had done a number on his wing. It hung, torn at an unnatural angle. Black blood coated the feathers and dripped to the floor.
Isabelle turned her eyes to her friend, ducking quickly as the angel emerged from the room. Isabelle could hear his footfalls as he moved around the room.
“I am losing my patience, Seer.” His tone dripped with hostility. She heard him open the door to another room off the kitchen.
Closing her eyes, she managed to make her throat work so she could swallow. She could hardly breathe, her chest tight with terror. Crawling over to Asmodeus, she placed her hand under his nose. The soft puffs of breath told her he still lived. Taking the knife from her teeth, she laid it on the floor beside her fallen friend. Gods, what was she supposed to do? Fuck! Her body wanted to shut down from fear. Her numb brain was unable to work out what step she should take next. The choice was wrested from her when a rush of air and blinding light exploded in the room, and she was grabbed from behind.
A hand covered her mouth, she was lifted from the floor and clutched against a concrete-hard body. She screamed and struggled in the iron grip, to no avail.
“There you are! Ready to fulfill your destiny, Seer?” His voice was like a million bugs crawling across her flesh. She would never see Mammon again. The thought made her sob. Her nails scratched at his wrist, but he ignored her as if she were some kind of annoying insect buzzing around him.
Abruptly, the room began to darken. The angel looked around quickly, his prize clutched to his body. He swore in a language she didn’t understand, the frustrated growl he emitted swamped by the low menace of a snarl from behind them. It promised death. It made you accept that there were evil things in the dark and this growl belonged to one of them. The angel turned to face the hellhound as he limped into the room.
“How the fuck are you still alive? How many times do I have to kill you?” The hound snarled and charged, going for the ankles, his deadly teeth snapping at the air. The angel danced back, crashing into the kitchen counter, which caused him to drop Isabelle. She fell to the floor, her knees screaming in pain. Not about to waste her chance, she slid across the tile, through the cooling blood. Grabbing the knife, she’d left in the floor next to Asmodeus, she turned and brought it down as hard as she could into the angel’s thigh as he stepped forward and reached for her.
He cried out, his hand going for the blade, eyes locked on her, promising retribution. The small distraction was all Cercyn needed. He skidded in low, his teeth sinking deep into the angel’s ankle. With a snarl, he turned and kicked the hound in the chest. The sound of breaking bone turned Isabelle’s stomach, as the beast was flung across the room, coming to rest against the back of the couch.
The angel was panting now, his teeth bared as if were some beast. He turned on her again. “Fucking demon whore.” He spat the insult, madness in his icy eyes.
Isabelle slid backward across the floor, once more through Asmodeus’s blood. She felt the wall behind her and wished she had kept the knife instead of leaving it in the angel’s leg. But he at least seemed to be in severe pain now. He was limping badly, leaving a trail of black blood on the tile. He looked like death, his eyes sunken, his dark hair plastered to his face. Slowly he advanced towards her, a sick smile spreading on his lips.
“I’m not playing any more, bitch!”
Isabelle closed her eyes. Think! Think! A memory struck her like lightning. She could almost see it playing before her. In the dream, Ilianna stood before her in the field of bright green grass and amazing blue sky. The woman’s lips were moving, the memory taking hold. “Yes, your powers go so much deeper than just experiencing what another feels. Being able to influence the emotions of others, to calm or instill fear if need be.” Instill fear. A sense of calm, like cool water washed over her mind and soul, slowly Isabelle opened her eyes. The angel stopped his progression and frowned, a wary expression spreading over his face.
She felt such peace in that timeless second. The fear and the pain were gone. No longer did she worry for her male, or her friends. Her eyes pinned the angel and slowly she got to her feet using the wall behind her. She could feel the energy around her like sparking flames licking at her flesh. It called to her—she recognized this. She knew those waves of energy. Recognized the emotional echoes, and she knew how to use them. Reaching out, she pulled them into her body. The rush of power surged through her veins. Her mind had one goal: to instill fear in a being that had never experienced such an emotion before.
She could see the aura of the angel around his body, black and grey, mixed with muted red and dirty brown. The black and grey swirled together around him like a misty halo. There was no brightness, no joy, no happiness. He was dark, she could see no good in him. Isabelle focused on the grey, she knew this was his fear showing.
“What are you doing?” Terror began to leak into his voice. She could tell he knew something had changed; she had changed.
Isabelle reached into this being before her, filling his soul with feelings of pain and anguish. Using her own terror as a blueprint, she sent it back into him exponentially. Using her past to help her, the years of being alone. She could felt it as it, rushed from her like water washing over him. She knew him then, knew his name, his very soul was exposed to her. When she spoke, her voice sounded so far away. Words came from her lips, but her voice…that couldn’t be her, could it? She felt the power pounding through her blood, the power of the Seers.
Clearly the Seer didn’t know she was glowing, or that her violet eyes were swirling like small galaxies of purple and silver light. She was freaking him the fuck out. Where did she get this much power from? He felt her power wash over him, gripping at his heart like a fist. “Raphael, you have sinned. Your fate has been written. The path you take is filled with blood. Rivers will run black, your wings rendered useless.” Raphael backed away from her, almost slipping in his own blood. Her voice, it sent chills over his flesh, it rang with destiny. His heart stuttered, and he gripped the spot over it, sweat beading on his forehead.
“Take it back, bitch! We do this for the world! How dare you curse my calling!” The words she spoke seemed to ring in his skull, over and over, getting louder and louder. His blood felt like it was on fire in his veins. He gripped his head, pulling at his hair, terror winding around his heart, stopping the very air from filling his lungs.
Falling to his knees, Raphael gripped his head as agony ripped through him. Opening his eyes, he focused on the Seer. Her eyes swirled. He had only seen that happen with one other woman—The Oracle—the one destined for his commander. The very reason Michael was a cold son of a bitch today. He had never felt such loneliness, such soul crushing fear. This was her doing! She was evoking all this within his heart. He cried out, bending over until his head touched the floor. His mind was battered by emotions he didn’t understand and could never comprehend.
Isabelle’s head was beginning to ache, the pain radiating down her face. A warm trickle of blood came from her nose. She wasn’t going to stop, not until he was out cold, unable to harm her or her friends again. Lights danced before her eyes. She needed help. Her head felt like it was going to split open. She reached for someone—anyone—to help her.
Her answer came in a brilliant white flash and scorching heat. Her head pounded, vision blurred by phantom lights. She lowered her head to the floor, fearful more angels had arrived as darkness swamped her vision.
“You summoned, beautiful?” The voice was liquid honey and sun. Apollo. Isabelle let out a sob as darkness claimed her.