Devin

I can feel her even though she’s miles away. Willow’s blood sings in my body, a sweet, torturous melody that threatens to tear me apart. Tugging at my hair, I pull until my scalp burns. The pain is a welcome distraction from the emptiness in my chest. She’s been gone two weeks, and every night, I hope she’ll realize she can’t be without me and walk through my door.

I’m weak. I haven’t fed since the night she left—I haven’t wanted to. But two weeks is pushing the line of safety. If I go any longer, I’ll be a danger to my donor and to myself. I’m just hoping my fangs will descend, that without Willow around, I’ll be able to … perform. Staring at myself in the mirror, I’m taken aback at the hollow shell of a man reflected in the glass. For the first time, I wish that old bit of vampire lore were true. I don’t want to see myself. I knew I looked bad, but this is worse than I thought. Dark circles ring my eyes. My irises have always been bright blue, it’s one of the things that draws in the ladies, but now they’re almost gray. So dull and lifeless, you’d think I was suffering a terminal illness. Then again, maybe I am.

As I pull on my shirt, the sound of feet moving across hardwood catches my attention. Heart in my throat, I race out into the living room, desperately needing Willow to be standing there. Instead, Gabriel stands in the middle of my fucking house, his arms crossed and a smug expression on his angelic face. I should have known it wasn’t Willow, but I was so caught up in wallowing, I couldn’t even be bothered to pay attention to my surroundings.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Feathers?” My voice emerges weaker than I intend, but there is no way to disguise my heartache. “I’m not in the mood for company.”

His shoulders tense. Good. I hit a nerve. At least my nickname for him still brings me a small bit of pleasure.

“Your presence is requested.”

It’s times like these I wish I could drink alcohol. I’d be three sheets to the fucking wind and bordering on alcohol poisoning if I could. “Yeah? Well, sorry. I’ve got four weeks left until my time is up and nothing to live for, so you can take your request and shove it up your glowing robed ass.”

He glances down at his black leather pants and boots. “I’m not wearing a robe.”

“Fuck, man. Can’t you just let the stereotype roll? You’re killing my insults.”

Frowning, Gabriel strides across the room and stands directly in front of me. “What is wrong with you?”

Running my fingers through my hair, I walk away from him, not stopping until I stand at the bank of windows that overlooks the Seattle skyline. Closing my eyes, I home in on her. I can sense her and know she’s alive. That alone makes my anxiety lessen. “Nothing.” Training my gaze on his reflection, I scowl. “Now, why the hell are you here?”

“We need Sariel. So we need you as well.”

“For what?”

“The boy.”

Dread takes hold in my gut. “Sean. His name is Sean.”

“He’s fading. We can’t contain his grace.”

“What do you mean?”

Sighing, Gabriel rolls his eyes. “Exactly what I said. He’s not going to survive the binding without Sariel.”

Thoughts of Galen flood my brain as I process what he’s said. Sean is not even five years old. How could this happen?

“What do you need me to do?”

“Let Sariel take control. We need him with us.”

Shit. I’ve got nothing left to lose, in all honesty. “Fine.”

* * *

Sariel

My palms itch with unease. Devin seemed more broken now than he was when he thought Willow hated him. I should be rejoicing. I’d won without having to fight. Instead, sorrow tugs at my heart. Damn. I’ve grown to like this cocky vampire asshole. As Gabriel hovers, frowning at me from his towering height, I fight the urge to punch him in the gut. What would he do? It probably wouldn’t even faze him.

“Okay, I’m here. What do you need?”

He rests a hand on my shoulder, and without warning, we’re in a large white room.

“Devin?” Galen’s voice rings in my ears, calling my attention behind me.

As soon as I turn, he stiffens. “No, Galen. It’s Sariel.”

He’s out of his chair and clutching at the collar of my shirt with both hands, despair brimming in his eyes. “They say he’s not strong enough. He’s wasting away before my very eyes.”

“Where is he?” I don’t know what I can do. I’ve never had the privilege of being a father. That opportunity had been taken from me along with Selah. But I can imagine his pain.

Galen walks to a door at the end of the room and opens it slowly. Following him inside, I see the small boy laid out on a table. His skin is waxy and pale, breaths coming in shallow gasps. Is this what my grace does? My heart lurches as I look at his face. He’s a perfect blend of Reese and Galen. His jet-black hair and strong brow mirror his father, while his full lips and slightly upturned nose are similar to Reese’s.

“How long do they think he has?” I can barely get the words out.

Galen only shakes his head as he runs his fingers through the boy’s hair.

“And they think I can help?”

His dark eyes find mine. “Aye. They know it.”

A voice I never thought I’d hear again fills the room, sending the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. “You are the only one who can help him, brother.”

Turning, I see him. Michael, the archangel, the leader of God’s army, stands behind me. “Things must be serious for you to get involved. I can’t imagine Father would send his general to deal with something so trivial.”

Galen snarls. “Trivial? This is my son’s life. There’s nothing bloody trivial about it.”

Ignoring him, Michael smiles and takes my hand. “Sariel. It has been so many years. But Gabriel has kept me well informed of your dealings. You seem to be an anomaly amongst the fallen. One we hope can change the course of our brothers’ fate. But you know that already.”

“Yes. I do. Now, what needs to be done for Sean?”

Shaking his head, Michael places a palm over Sean’s chest. “He’s fighting so hard, but his little body isn’t prepared for the binding. He doesn’t have enough of your grace for us to bind without tapping into his soul.”

My mind races as I search for some sort of solution. “I don’t understand how I can help.”

“You need to share your grace with him. He needs enough for us to separate and bind.”

A sick feeling twists my gut. “But … that will weaken me. I have to fight.”

“Right now, it is more important to hide him from the Watchers … from Lucifer.”

“Fine. How do you want me to do this?”

Michael’s face is impassive. “A bite should do it. Just focus on transferring your grace and stop when I say.”

Glancing at Galen, I can’t deny him this. He’s suffering as he watches his boy die, and I can stop the pain. No father should have to watch his child die. I know this more than anyone. A memory of my Selah, heavy with our unborn son or daughter, hits me at the thought.

Sitting next to the boy, I take his limp arm in my much larger hands and lean toward his wrist.

“Oh, there is one small detail,” Michael begins.

Annoyance rolls through me. Of course there’s a detail. “What?”

“After you’ve given that much of your grace, you’ll have to sacrifice certain abilities.”

“Fine.”

“Sariel … you won’t be able to father any Nephilim.”

My gut turns to stone. “What did you just say?”

“In order to save your child—”

“He’s my fucking son!” Galen shouts.

“Hold your tongue,” Michael snaps. “This boy is your child, but he is also Nephilim. There is nothing you can say or do to change that, Galen.”

Sean lets out a soft whimper, and Galen is at his side in an instant, shooting me a pleading look.

“As I was saying,” Michael continues. “To save your child, you’ll have to give enough of yourself that he can be bound. You will no longer possess enough grace to transfer it to another child. Which means your ability to procreate will be gone.”

I can’t do this. Pacing the room, I work to control the raging frustration. Save the boy, lose the family I want so badly to have with my Selah. How can I condemn her to a childless existence to save a child that isn’t truly mine?

“I’m sorry, Galen. I can’t do this.” My words are a harsh whisper, but he hears me. His pitch-dark gaze burns as it lands on me.

“You fucking bastard. You did this to him, and now you’re leaving him to die? I should have known. You only care about your own bloody agenda, just like I always thought.”

“What do you want me to do, Galen? I’ve found her. Selah is here, in this time. This is my one chance to have what I lost. And I should throw away my hopes for a family? If I do this, I’m taking from her just as much as from myself.” The notion of never holding a child Selah and I create in my arms tears at my heart. How can I do that to her?

“Yes. That’s what I bloody well want. You’re seriously asking me if I think the life of a child, one who is right here in your presence, is more important than the possibility of children in the future? Of course. I’m not asking you to kill your children. I’m asking for you to save one. You heard them, I know you did. Devin told me, Sean is as much mine as he is yours.”

No. Damn Galen and his morality. He's fucking right, but how can I make this choice?

“Brother, we need you to do this. For all of us.” Michael’s voice is low and controlled, as if he’s talking me off a ledge. Maybe he is.

“Why does it matter whether he lives or dies?”

His gaze darts toward Galen, and the angel shakes his head, almost imperceptibly.

“Oh, you need him. You aren’t done with the poor kid. It’s always this way with you fucking archangels. There’s always some hidden agenda.”

Galen’s head whips toward us, tearing his gaze from the form of his son. “What are you talking about?”

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with,” Michael warns.

I see it the moment Galen decides to fight back. I spent long enough inside his body to recognize the signs. “Galen. This is not something you can win.”

“Make your choice, then, you coward,” he says. Hurt echoes off the walls with every word.

“I’ll do it. But not without something in return, Michael.”

My brother raises an eyebrow. “What?”

“A favor. Anything I want that I can redeem at any time.”

Michael’s jaw clenches. “You take too many liberties for that.”

Closing my eyes, I sigh. “Fine. Send me back. I’m sorry, Galen.”

“No! You can’t let him leave, Michael.” Desperation colors Galen’s tone.

“Oh, all right, Sariel. One favor. Now, come over here and do what is required of you.”

Turning my gaze heavenward, I close the distance between myself and the boy. I take his small wrist in my hand and bite down, my heart breaking for the gravity of this sacrifice, for the future I can’t have, and for the pain I know this will cause Selah.