Face, meet brick wall. Bane’s steps faltered. Humans didn’t know about the UnHallowed. If a human ever crossed the path of any of his kind, their memories were wiped. No good would ever come from humans knowing about the war raging around them. They had enough everyday evil in their miserable, undignified lives. The exception to the rule was Sophie. Her friendship with the Halfling Scarla allowed the lapse in judgment. Otherwise, Scarla’s best friend would’ve had her mind wiped clean even if it meant she had to relearn her ABCs.

While he pondered all of this like a pedestrian caught in the crosswalk, the female sliced the Darkling from one end to the other. Her kill, clean and precise. Ash was the only thing left when she was through—and she was gone.

His smile actually hurt his face. Not much impressed him when it came to humans. She was good. No. She was better than good. The female was quite exceptional… Fortunately for him, she’d left a trail of breadcrumbs. Darkling ash.

Bane followed at an unhurried pace. He wanted to see where she journeyed. That journey took him through every house on the block. He exited the last dwelling the old-fashioned way, through a side door. The fine sprinkling of ash stained the cracked asphalt and interspersed between the flourishing weeds. She should be right in front of him, probably running away, yet she was truly gone. What the fuck?

He studied the ash again, his gaze straining in each direction, until he caught a speck next to a manhole a block away. Drag marks scored the street. She’d taken to the sewers.

“Agile, fast, and strong.” He stood next to the manhole. Impressed, bordering on awe, Bane flung the manhole aside and dropped into a muddy stream, all traces of dust gone. “Add smart.”

A summons rang between his ears and snapped his attention away from his failed pursuit. Michael called. It had been a while. However, what were a few years to beings who counted lifetimes in millennia.

Irritated, Bane pulled the shadows to him and traveled through the conduits. Michael couldn’t have picked a worse time if he’d planned it. That female stoked every nerve ending Bane possessed. Humans were supposed to be afraid of demons, dropping to their knees in fervent prayers for salvation from things that went bump in the night.

Not battling Darklings and knowing about UnHallowed. He wished he could deny the evidence, but the way she moved, the skill of her attack, the precision and fearlessness, she had to be one of them. Well, at least half of them. He snorted at his lame joke. Someone had trained her. Either an UnHallowed or a Demoni Lord, and those Demoni bastards were all in Hell. It had to have been an UnHallowed. Her existence shouldn’t be possible, but Scarla was living proof. Two UnHallowed children. One would think the UnHallowed had learned their lesson from Scarla.

Who had made this child? And why keep her a secret? However long it took, he would uncover the answer, layer by layer. But if they had kept it a secret, then he would also. She would be his secret.

Bane adjusted the raging erection tenting his leathers. When was the last time he had a female? So memorable, the date eluded him. It had to have been a few centuries, probably more than a handful.

He would have her. Take her until she was out of his system, then, if necessary, strip her mind clean, and be on his way. That is, after she gave him the name. He stopped mid-conduit, short of his destination. One thought gripping him tighter than a vise to the balls. What if she belonged to this unnamed UnHallowed? What if she is his, and not mine?

On a surge of anger, Bane peeled away from the shadows to find himself on a hillside plateau two hundred feet above the city.

He was alone.

Lightning struck the center of the plateau, cracking the rock into two pieces. A scent wafted from the new fissure. An aroma all UnHallowed revered; sun, sky, and Heaven seeped from the crevice. An ache took hold inside Bane, an ache for home and what he foolishly cast away.

A beam of warm celestial light pierced the clouds and bathed the plateau. Bane grasped the hilt of one of his many blades. Michael wasn’t one to invite you to an ambush. The senior archangel, Seraph to the Throne, was too honorable for such treachery. Besides, Bane should have been fried by the heavenly light, yet not even a sunburn heated his skin. The rules of engagement must’ve been suspended. Things must be desperate for the Maker to allow the UnHallowed this reprieve.

The light narrowed, the intensity increasing until it was a tight blinding circle. Bane didn’t look away. Instead of streaking for the shadows, he basked in the fraction of warmth and braced because the light brought his enemy.

The archangel stepped from the beam, power radiating from him in visible waves. In a single glance, Bane measured the purity of his white and gold wings to the two-inch height advantage, the empyreal armor coating his body, and the sword of Metatron at his side.

Michael made a slow pivot, his gold-rimmed eyes assessing the area and Bane. One-on-one, Bane knew he wasn’t a match for the archangel in his midst. As a lower-class warrior angel, he never would be, but if he could reclaim his grace and ascend once more, there was a chance he could become an archangel and resume his place in Heaven.

“UnHallowed. The war between Heaven and Hell has come to a crossroads.”

No preamble to warm him up. No, ‘Hi, Bane. Long time no see.’ “You’re losing. It’s evident in the sulfur that stains the air wherever I travel. Since the Fall, the balance has turned. Too much darkness, not enough light, even though the Cruor is closed. Gideon saw to that.” Gideon—with the help of the warrior angel Dina—closing the portal to Hell and leaving at the first opportunity was common knowledge among the UnHallowed. Most approved of his actions, Bane included. He had no desire to return to Hell.

The war was a battle of attrition. But while Darklings were made with nearly every human death, the soul only had two choices, ascend or descend. Ascension didn’t guarantee the soul would be an angel. Most souls enjoyed the bliss of eternity in Heaven. Few were suitable to be angels, and even less, warrior class angels or higher, archangels. Souls that descended eventually all became Darklings, Spaun, or other demons. It wasn’t an exaggeration to say crossing the threshold to Heaven was a bit more difficult than strolling into Hell.

Michael grimaced. He paused at the edge of the fissure. “The portal to Hell being closed has had no bearing on the current state of matters. The Darkling scourge continues, flourishes even.” Michael seemed to struggle for words. His armor vanished, leaving the archangel clad in a myst robe. “I’ve come from the battlefield. Even though the Cruor is closed, the Darklings are not defeated.”

“How is that possible when Darklings are little more that raving beasts?” Bane asked. The archangel had informed him of the problem years ago and hadn’t mentioned it since. Bane had noticed a steady flow of Darklings, which wasn’t unusual for Detroit.

“The means have not been determined, though the results are manifesting at an alarming rate. We are losing the war.”

Bane chuckled without an ounce of humor and waved a finger between the two of them. “We? ‘You are no longer one of us.’ Those were your exact words to me days after the Fall.”

Michael’s gaze speared Bane. “You are not one of me which makes you perfect for this assignment.” His tone matter-of-fact professorial.

AKA expendable. Bane wasn’t surprised, yet a block of ice settled in his chest where a nugget of respect had lived. “What do you want, Michael? Get to the point.”

With a swipe of Michael’s hand, the fissure in the plateau widened. He dropped into the opening. Bane followed. He passed through the crack and landed thirty feet below. That unforgettable scent was thick as fog here, overpowering. The ache inside Bane twisted into a stabbing pain, threatening to bring him to his knees. The longing it evoked propelled him forward to trail behind Michael’s halo as the archangel moved down a narrow tunnel, illuminating the way for Bane.

Though dark, no shadows lingered. Where they traveled, there would be no escape, no shadows for him to escape into. It didn’t matter. Whether here or above ground, Michael didn’t need a particular place to slaughter. Any time, any place, only Father’s word restricted the archangel and Seraph to the Throne.

The tunnel ended at a small antechamber. Michael waited at the opposite end, at the entrance to a larger chamber. Bane crossed to him, their footsteps muffled by nature’s carpet. Michael continued, except, light was ahead of him instead of within him. He moved to the side, and Bane stepped past Michael and paused, his feet refused to move any further onto the hallowed ground. Lush trees only found in virgin rainforests and flowers—varieties from every corner of the world–filled the cavern Bane faced.

There was only one way this glowing tropical bounty could exist inside a hillside outside of Detroit.

“Braile gave the last of his grace to Gideon so that he and Dina could close the Cruor,” Michael said before Bane gathered the strength to ask which archangel had died. “And now, that sacrifice is in danger of being for naught.”

Pain exploded in Bane’s chest. Not Braile. He was the best of all of them. Not only powerful, but kind. So damn kind. “What do you want of me, Michael?”

“There is a farm outside of Danville. Be there tomorrow.”

Cryptic much? Grass crunched beneath Bane’s feet, releasing bursts of that fragrance. He plucked a delicate orchid and crushed it in his hand. The scent exploded. Greedily, he brought the crushed petals to his nose and inhaled. Memories tripped over themselves. Memories he’d buried so long ago, he’d thought them gone forever. He remembered battles and the friends he lost in those battles, the wind rushing over his wings, the sun on his skin and so much more he’d tried to forget.

He wanted it back, everything that was lost when he fell. This may be his ticket to get it all.

Michael led the way topside as Bane said, “Why tomorrow? If the situation is so dire why wait?”

“The farm house. Tomorrow at noon,” was all Michael said.

Bane had an idea why. Michael would need more than one UnHallowed to guard the Cruor. Meeting at noon made the UnHallowed vulnerable to the sun, especially if Michael invited more than one. This was definitely a group project. “Are you putting me in charge?”

“In charge of this task, yes,” Michael said as they stepped out of the cavern.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” Bane growled.

Face to the wind, his dark hair whipping about, Michael stared at the city lights twinkling in the distance. “I know you are a minor warrior class angel with grandiose ideas that have no place in this present discussion. No one is in charge.”

“That wasn’t our deal,” Bane snarled. “I’ve been out here killing Darklings when the rest of the UnHallowed have done nothing because you agreed to put me in charge. Now, you renege when you need something from me? What are you playing at, Michael?” Bane faced him, hands curled at his sides.

“I do not play. I am a soldier and I follow orders,” his voice low, weighed by the truth of his words.

Dread clenched Bane’s gut. There was only one being Michael took instructions from. “What orders?”

“The UnHallowed are on their own. Rudderless, until one proves worthy to lead.”

Empyreal steel to the throat would’ve been kinder. After all he’d done, going against his own kind to secretly meet with Michael, he still wasn’t worthy.

“Prove yourself, Bane, and redemption is yours. The promise still stands.” Toneless, the words dropped with the finesse of a hammer striking a nail.

Crimson glazed Bane’s vision. “Don’t piss in my mouth and tell me its wine. I’ve been down this dirt road already, paid my dues when none of the others did. Leadership is mine!” He thumped his chest.

“Then claim it. You have the ability. You are UnHallowed.” Michael’s grave tone gave nothing away.

Bane growled, “I’m more than UnHallowed and you need me, so stop pretending you don’t or I’m out of here.”

“To go where?”

One side of Bane’s mouth curled and he shoved his hands into his pockets. “You and I both know you are not the only game in town.” Spaun wouldn’t hesitate to take an UnHallowed into their circle of chaos.

Michael freed his sword. Made of brimstone and empyreal steel, the sword was his, yet didn’t truly belong to him. He had it as a loaner until Metatron returned to claim it. So the story went. He brought the blade around and pointed it at Bane’s throat. “Where are they?”

Bane shrugged. “I have no idea. That doesn’t mean I won’t spend the next thousand years searching for them, and not helping you.”

“It is a poor choice to threaten me with Spaun, UnHallowed.”

“It was a poor choice to promise me leadership then snatch it away. I know it’s impossible, but put yourself in my skin. How would you feel if someone took something you wanted?”

The sword dropped from his throat and Michael invaded Bane’s aura by getting way too close. The temperature around them plummeted until frost covered the ground. Light bled from Michael’s gold eyes, his face twisted in rage. “Where is she?”

Puzzled, Bane drew back. She? “I don’t know who you’re talking about. Who is she?”

A growl rattled from the archangel. “You lie. Tell me where Gemma is.”

Bane didn’t like the desperate, hostile edge to Michael’s voice or the way the angel vibrated with rage. The ground rumbled beneath their feet. An unhinged Michael could destroy more than a hillside.

“I’m not lying. I don’t know any female named Gemma.” Was this something he could use as leverage?

Lightning illuminated the sky and the wind morphed from a breeze into a gale. Michael’s gold gaze drilled into Bane, then the archangel stepped back, spread his wings, and with one great flap was gone.

Sunlight touched the horizon and Bane’s skin began to itch. The night had ended. His rage bled from his pores and shook the hillside. Leadership of the UnHallowed belonged to him and no one else. He would settle for nothing less. First, he would discover who this missing woman was, then he would find her and use her until Michael delivered on all he promised.