Passion Unleashed

Chapter 28

This charm thing was so cool.

Wraith and Reaver approached the Dome of the Rock with ease, practically untouched by the army of demons who swarmed around it. He could have shapeshifted into some heinous demon to make himself less conspicuous, but there was no fun in that.

No, he walked straight through the horde like a spear through flesh, his long leather trench coat flapping at his ankles, the comforting clank of his weapons ringing in his ears. Thoughtful of his brothers to bring his fighting gear.

Several demons attempted to assault him—not because they viewed Wraith or Reaver as enemies, but because demons were generally just assholes—but thanks to the charm, something always got in the way of their attacks. They’d stumble, strike another demon, miss him completely… yeah, the charm thing was way cool.

Reaver pulled him to a halt at the top of the steps, just beneath the arched colonnade outside the golden-domed mosque. “If this goes badly for me, you know what to do.”

Yeah, he knew. Reaver had told him that only an angel could kill an angel… with one exception. If one drained an angel to death, they would temporarily inherit the ability to destroy another angel. The catch was that no one could drain an angel of blood—unless the angel volunteered.

Wraith hoped it didn’t come down to that. He kinda liked Reaver.

“Got it,” Wraith said, and started walking, but Reaver stopped him again. “Geez, what this time?”

“Kynan. You must give Kynan the amulet. Not anyone else in The Aegis. Understood?”

“No.”

Reaver made an exasperated noise. “This is all fated,” he said, waving at the army around them. “I don’t know how this will end—the battle is fated, the outcome is not. But Kynan’s fate is tied closely with these events.”

Wraith rolled his eyes. If there was anything he hated more than cryptic shit, it was fate shit. “Whatever. Let’s go kick Byzamoth’s ugly, and I mean ugly, ass.”

They entered the Dome of the Rock, easily shoving away the burly, horned Ramreel guards. They didn’t have to worry about the fallen angel’s minions following; few demons would set hoof in so holy a building. They feared God more than they feared any fallen angel.

Even Wraith twitched uncomfortably in the mosque, where bright tiles and glass mosaics spelled out Qur’anic verses and religious depictions. Byzamoth stood near the center next to the giant Foundation Stone, his gaze fixed on the ceiling, an evil, ecstatic smile curving his mouth.

The sounds of battle erupted outside—Wraith’s entrance had been the signal for The Aegis and militaries to launch their attack.

“Byzamoth.” Reaver moved next to Wraith, his skin glowing with a freakish white light.

Byzamoth’s eyes flew wide open. “Reaver?” He shifted his gaze to Wraith. “You. You live?”

“Nope. This is all in your imagination.” Wraith stalked toward him. “Hell of a way to get back into Heaven, don’t you think? When all you have to do is walk into the noon sun.”

“Fool. That only works if an angel hasn’t yet entered Sheoul.”

“My bad. I’m rusty on fallen angel rules. Don’t suppose they’ve got an Idiot’s Guide for that.” Wraith studied his nails. “But one thing I know? If you die, you’re gone for good. Poof. No redemption, no reincarnation, no nothing. Buh-bye.”

He launched a morning star so fast Byzamoth didn’t have a chance to block it. The star caught him in the shoulder, went right through and buried itself in a pillar.

Byzamoth yelped in pain, but he recovered in an instant. “Did you think it would be so easy?” He came at Wraith, feet not touching the ground.

Reaver met him head on, and they crashed together like two bulls. Light streaked with black voids swirled around them, encasing them in a supernatural funnel cloud as they grappled. Wraith hurled one of his daggers into the mix, aimed at the back of Byzamoth’s neck, but the weapon was caught up in the tornado and flung to the far side of the building.

Blood flew from the two angels, staining the vortex a gruesome red. The whirlwind imploded. Reaver flew through the air, coming down in a heap that slid across the floor, leaving a crimson trail.

Wraith attacked Byzamoth, ripping powerful punches into the male’s face. A knee to the groin earned a satisfying roar of pain. A bolt of energy slammed into Wraith’s chest, knocking him into the railing surrounding the Foundation Stone.

Wet tearing sounds filled the mosque as Byzamoth shifted into his grotesque gargoyle form. His one wing rose up high over his head, the clawed tip coming down to clamp on Wraith’s head.

Pain screamed through Wraith as sharp, serrated claws dug into his skull. Blood streamed down his face, and rage streamed through his veins. Snarling, he dropped to his knees and lunged sideways, breaking Byzamoth’s hold. He rolled, avoiding what would have been a bone-breaking stomp to the hip.

Wraith pivoted on his hand, sweeping his legs out for his own devastating kick. He caught the male in the knee, and though Byzamoth grunted, he didn’t go down. Scrambling to his feet, Wraith dashed blood out of his eyes. In the distance, the air sang with the clank of weapons, the thud of fists striking flesh, and the screams of demons and humans in mortal pain.

“It’s beautiful music, is it not?” Byzamoth edged sideways, keeping his body between the Foundation Stone and Wraith. Lightning flashed and thunder rocked the ground. Outside the dome, an evil storm spun up black twisters and blood-red rain. Through a single hole in the Heavens came a golden stream of light, but in a heartbeat, the roiling clouds extinguished it.

Byzamoth opened his fist to reveal Serena’s necklace and a vial of blood. Wraith’s blood. “The sun has cast its first and last rays. It’s time. Reconsider your fight, incubus. Stand with me, and you will reap unimaginable rewards.”

“As tempting as it sounds to be your bitch,” Wraith drawled, “I’m going to have to turn down that offer.”

He launched himself at the angel. Byzamoth’s wing caught him in the shoulder, knocking him off balance, but somehow, he stayed upright. They fought like fiends, with Wraith coming out on top every time they broke apart.

But Wraith was bleeding badly, one leg wasn’t working right, and he was sucking air with a lot more effort than he’d like.

Byzamoth looked as if he’d gone for a pleasant jog. “I can’t be killed, filthy demon.”

“You’re pretty judgmental with the demon thing,” Wraith said through panting breaths. “Given that you are a demon.”

Evil laughter bounced off the walls of a place so holy that they seemed to writhe under the sound. “I’m better than demon scum.”

“Holier than thou is kinda funny coming from a fallen angel.”

“I tire of your infantile humor.” Byzamoth popped open the vial of blood and whirled toward the Foundation Stone.

“No!” Wraith struck Byzamoth in the back, propelling him into a support column, but blood splashed from the vial and fell in thin streaks across the Foundation Stone.

Outside, the storm hushed. Inside, it had just begun.

The blood on the stone bubbled, releasing black steam into the air. Byzamoth struggled toward it, kicking at Wraith, who held onto his ankle. The fallen angel held the necklace stretched before him, trying to reach the blood.

“Damn you!” Byzamoth slammed his fist down on Wraith’s skull like a hammer on a nail. Wraith crumpled to the ground, his legs not functioning. Byzamoth moved to the stone.

“Wraith…” Reaver’s hand closed on his ankle. The angel had somehow crawled from where he’d fallen, his body a broken mess. “Drain… me.”

Wraith brushed blood out of his eyes. Holy hell. If Reaver died like this, his soul would suffer eternal torment. “Let me try—”

“There’s no time!” Reaver rasped. “You must slash Byzamoth’s throat… and then fill the wound with your own blood after you drink mine. Hurry.”

Byzamoth was holding the necklace in the steam rising up from the blood on the stone, and the building had begun to rock. Reaver had exposed his throat. There was nothing to say. Nothing at all.

Wraith sank his fangs into the angel’s jugular. The blood hit his tongue like an electric shock and began pouring down his throat.

“No!” Byzamoth flashed to Reaver, grabbed the other angel by the arm, and threw him like a Frisbee through the doorway. “I want him dragged to the depths of Sheoul!” he screamed, and from nowhere, a horde of imps swallowed up Reaver and dragged him away.

Snarling, he turned on Wraith, crunching a foot into Wraith’s chest. Wraith launched into the air and hit the far wall with a crack of ribs.

His vision swam. Byzamoth darted back to the stone. Hand shaking, Wraith fished in his weapons harness for something to throw—anything. Outside, the sounds of battle became a screaming roar, metal on metal and metal on flesh growing closer. And then Kynan was there by Wraith’s side.

“Need Reaver,” Wraith gasped. “His blood.”

“Take mine.”

Wraith shook his head, trying to make sense of what Ky had just said. “I don’t need to feed.”

“I know. You need to drain an angel. Angel blood runs through my veins. It won’t be the same, but we’re losing, Wraith. Either way, I’ll die.”

“No.” Wraith grasped another throwing star and tugged it free of its housing. “I’m not done—”

“Wraith!” Ky’s voice was hushed but urgent as he grabbed Wraith’s shoulders and shook him. “Damn you, vampire. If you want to see Serena again, you have to do this.”

Byzamoth looked over at them, but he didn’t view Kynan, a simple human, as a threat.

“Feeding won’t help you, idiot.” Byzamoth turned back to the Foundation Stone, which was becoming lost in a giant, spinning black hole that extended upward to the cupola. It was growing, expanding, swallowing the ceiling.

Kynan tilted his head. “Do it.” He swallowed, locked gazes with Wraith. “Tell Gem… never mind.”

“Fuck,” Wraith whispered.

“Do it!”

Closing his eyes, Wraith latched onto Kynan’s throat. The human stiffened, but after a moment he sagged so Wraith had to catch him.

He drank until Kynan’s heart sped up to compensate for blood loss, and then he pulled harder as the human’s veins collapsed, until his heart stuttered. Oh, shit, he was doing it… he was killing his friend.

His friend.

He’d never had one before, and the one he had, he was destroying.

Kynan stopped breathing.

Power ripped through Wraith, power and pain that felt as if his muscles were separating from the bones. He lowered Kynan gently to the ground and let the rage of what he’d done fuel him. Rage that Byzamoth was the cause of all of this.

The demon would pay with his life.

Wraith launched himself at Byzamoth with a vengeance. They knotted together, a vicious swirl of hand-to-hand, a form of combat at which Wraith excelled. He would not lose. He could not lose. Kynan’s death would not be in vain.

Byzamoth’s wing sideswiped Wraith and knocked him to his knees. The fallen angel kneeled beside him and wrapped his clawlike hand around Wraith’s throat.

“I scarcely have time for this.” Byzamoth glanced at the horizon, where the clouds pushed against the sun’s light.

Wraith opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Not even breath.

“I know who you are. A demon born to a vampire.” He licked the gash he’d made in Wraith’s cheek. “I found your dam. She’s in Sheoul-gra.”

— Sheoul-gra. The place where dead demons went until their souls could be reborn. But according to many, deceased evil humans, vampires, weres, and shapeshifters didn’t go there, because they couldn’t be reborn.

“You’re wondering why she’s there instead of suffering eternally in Sheoul?” Byzamoth dug his finger in the wound, and Wraith grit his teeth against the pain. “She’s serving there. Serving the demons who are waiting to be reborn. The things they make her do…”

Wraith could imagine. Didn’t need to imagine, actually.

“She had a message for you, her darling boy.” Byzamoth punched his hand into Wraith’s gut, and agony accompanied a wet, hideous rip. “She can’t wait to see you. And she’ll make what she did to you as a child seem like, well, child’s play.”

A shudder ran through Wraith, no matter how hard he tried to contain it. Even after all these years she could prey on his fears.

No. She was not going to win, and he was not going to be seeing her anytime soon. Because his mother no longer had control of his fears. Not when his greatest fear was losing Serena. He had to get to her. But Byzamoth’s hand was deep inside his body, tunneling its way up to his heart.

“Now, I send you to see your mother.”

Wraith dug into his pocket for a weapon. His fingers, slippery with blood, found a blade, but he couldn’t grasp it… but wait… he closed his fist around the wooden top. Byzamoth’s fingers found his heart.

Byzamoth squeezed. Weakly, Wraith stabbed the pointed end of the top into Byzamoth’s eye. The fallen angel reared back. Finally free, Wraith punched a dagger into the fallen angel’s gut. It sank deep, and Byzamoth hit the deck.

“Mother,” Wraith rasped, “is going to have to wait.” With a snarl, he slashed Byzamoth’s throat. The fallen angel’s neck opened up all the way to his spine. Blood flowed in a river, but the holy site seemed to be ready. Steam billowed up as the blood burned to ash. Quickly, Wraith slit his own wrist, let the blood drain into the wound.

Instantly, Byzamoth went up in smoke.

That was it? Wraith had thought an angel’s death would somehow be more dramatic.

Outside, demons shrieked as they, too, began to flame. Wraith looked down at himself, made sure he wasn’t on fire. So far, so good. Except for the fist-sized hole in his gut.

He seized the amulet from the floor where it had fallen when Byzamoth poofed, and staggered out of the Dome of the Rock. In the distance, Eidolon moved from human to human, healing where he could. Nearby, Tayla barked out orders to the less severely injured Guardians. Luc was rendering aid and looking a little worse for wear himself, but he appeared to have all his body parts. Near the Harrowgate, Reaver was spreadeagled on the ground, chains holding him down.

Wraith gathered Kynan’s body in his arms and limped down steps that were tacky with burned demon remains and human blood. Eidolon looked up from healing a guy wearing what looked like a Spanish military uniform, his expression falling when he saw Kynan.

“Is he…”

“Yeah.”

Still, E’s dermoire lit up as he lay his hand on Kynan. “Ah, fuck.” His arm fell away.

“Yeah.” Wraith cocked his head toward Reaver as Eidolon channeled a healing wave into him. “Someone needs to help the angel. I’m going to Serena.” He looked down at Kynan’s limp body. “And Gem.”

Lore had to take a leak. He had no idea how long he’d been sitting in the hall of what he’d figured out was an Aegis house, but he really could use an opportunity to stretch his legs and hit the bathroom. Why the fuck his brothers had brought him here instead of leaving him at the hospital was beyond his comprehension

Being chained up there was just as good as being chained up here, and likely less hazardous to his health, given how the Guardians eyed him like they wanted to drag him outside and use him for target practice.

The door across from him opened, and Shade came out of the room.

“So.” Shade crossed the hall and stopped in front of Lore. “What’s your deal? We haven’t had a chance to chat.”

“Too bad, too, because you seem like such a nice guy,” Lore drawled.

Shade thunked him in the forehead with his palm. “Says the guy who tried to kill his own brothers.”

“Yeah, about that.” Lore glanced down at his arm, and then glanced at the matching set of markings that marched their way up Shade’s forearm. “I know you and your brothers are a breed of incubi. So I’m guessing I am, too?”

“What did you think you were?”

“Dude, I didn’t even know I was a demon until I was in my twenties.”

Shade gave him a you’re-a-dumbass look. “The fact that you were born with a dermoire wasn’t a clue?”

“Dermoire? That’s what it’s called?” At Shade’s nod, Lore shook his head. “I wasn’t born with it. It appeared when I was twenty.” He remembered the hell he’d gone through immediately prior to the appearance of the markings, the insane desire to have constant sex when, for twenty years, he’d not even gotten an erection.

“It appeared when you were twenty?” Shade frowned. “What species was your mother?”

“Human.”

“Well, there’s one piece of the puzzle. You’re a cambion. Half-breed. Which is why we can’t sense you.” He looked down the hall where two Aegis slayers weren’t even attempting to be covert as they watched them. Shade flipped them off and turned back to Lore. “So your human mother named you Lore?”

“Loren,” he mumbled.

Shade eyed him with sympathy. Because, yeah, Shade was such a great name. “When were you born?”

“Eighteen-eighty.”

“Then you were one of our father’s firsts. Idiot either didn’t know any better than to impregnate a human, or he was already off his rocker.”

“You know, I’m not feeling the love here.” Lore shifted, wincing at the tingles shooting up his leg, which had fallen asleep.

“Our father got off on fucking things he shouldn’t.”

Lore had no idea what that was supposed to mean, but Shade’s tone didn’t invite questions, and really, Lore had more to worry about than his deadbeat dad’s choice of bedmates. Besides, Lore didn’t have a lot of room to judge.

“Where is he?”

“Dead.” He gestured to Lore’s dermoire. “What’s your gift?”

“Gift?” Lore laughed. “Is that what you call it? Can you kill everything you touch, too?”

Shade cocked an eyebrow. “I can kill with my gift, but I have to make an effort to use it that way. Its primary purpose is to force ovulation in females.”

Since Shade was an incubus, that made sense. “Can all Seminus demons do that?”

“Wraith can get inside female heads and make them receptive to sex. Eidolon can ensure an egg is fertilized. You said you kill everything you touch?”

“Yeah. Except it didn’t affect Eidolon.”

“Could be the brother thing… or it could be because E had activated his own gift, and maybe they countered each other.”

It had to be the sibling thing. Lore had never hurt his sister with his touch, either. “So why is my gift all fucked up?”

“Probably has something to do with the cambion thing. We’re not meant to breed with humans. Stuff tends to go wrong with the offspring. Obviously.”

“Is there anything else I should know about? You know, that might go wrong?”

Shade appeared to consider that. “Oh, hey, you’re probably sterile. You know how when a donkey and a horse or a water sprite and a fire sprite—”

“I got the picture,” Lore snapped. For some reason, the sterile thing annoyed the shit out of him, but he had no idea why, since he couldn’t fucking have sex without killing his partner. Having kids was a moot point.

Shade said something under his breath about him being high-strung. “So why did you think killing me and Eidolon would be a good idea?”

“Some dude named Roag paid me.”

“And you didn’t know who he was?” Shade threw back his head and laughed, but the sound wasn’t one of amusement. “That sick sonofabitch.”

“Can I get in on the joke?”

“He was our brother.”

“Brother? As in, that sick fuck, too?”

“Yep. No doubt he knew who you were all along. I’ll bet he had it arranged so that when you got the money for killing us, you’d learn the truth.”

Fun guy, his insane brother. Of course, the one in front of him didn’t strike him as a load of laughs, either. “I’m glad he’s dead.”

“Well, he’s not exactly dead. But he’s suffering a fate worse than death. Trust me.”

A commotion in the front room brought Shade to his feet. The pounding of heavy footsteps and hushed curses heralded the arrival of something… not good.

Wraith stalked into the hall, his arms cradling a body. The human male, Kynan. Oh, cool.

Gem’s scream pierced the silence, and his feeling of satisfaction shattered.

“No… no… no!” She’d been in the room with the sick woman, and now she stood in the doorway, disbelief and horror etched on her face. She backed away, hand over her mouth, shaking her head, and as Lore watched, she stumbled and fell to the floor.

Wraith moved slowly down the hall toward the bedroom, his eyes closed, but his aim never wavering. Shade uttered a soft curse and moved aside as Wraith took the body to Gem and laid it before her.

“No, Wraith… no!” She grabbed his hand, pleading with him to make Kynan not be dead.

Shade and Wraith both bowed their heads until Gem collapsed on top of Kynan, her sobs wracking her body.

Wraith seemed to weigh a thousand pounds as he went to Serena.

No one in the room seemed to know what to do, but Gem’s cries lanced Lore’s heart. He should use this opportunity to comfort her, to take advantage of her loss. Had he been the one to kill Kynan, that’s what he would have done.

But seeing her suffer wasn’t pleasant.

“Shade.” The guy didn’t move. “Shade!”

“What?” He was still standing, head bowed.

“Release me.”

“Fuck off.”

“Shade.” Lore swallowed, knowing this was crazy and that it might not work because he didn’t know how Kynan had died, but he had to try. “I might be able to help.” He kept his voice low, not wanting to give any false hope.

Shade turned, slowly, eyes bloodshot and narrowed. “If this is a trick, know that I have no problem killing a sibling.”

Lore gave a single nod, and Shade crouched, released the chains holding him.

With Shade on his heels, he moved to Gem and Kynan. She was draped over him, her face buried in his throat.

Drawing a deep breath, Lore crouched at Kynan’s feet. He grasped the human’s still-warm ankle. He concentrated, let his “gift” work its way down his shoulder to his fingers, until his markings glowed. A wave of energy spread up the human’s leg, into his torso, his chest, his extremities.

The heart sparked. But the body was drained of blood, and it took several precious minutes for his marrow to start churning, creating new blood to fill his veins.

Gem turned to Lore, her eyes nearly swollen shut, but possessive anger shone through her misery. “Get away from him!”

Shade knelt next to her and whispered something in her ear. She nodded and went back to sobbing.

There. The heart beat. Once. Twice. It shuddered as though unsure what to do next… and then it started up in a strong, steady beat. Kynan’s chest rose, and his lips parted as he took in a giant, choking breath.

“Kynan?” Gem scrambled off him. “Kynan?”

“Yeah,” he rasped. “Fuck. Yeah.”

Gem shrieked with joy and threw herself around him. Lore stood and backed away. A hand came down on his shoulder. Shade’s.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” Lore said. “Really.”

Fuck, that was a stupid thing to do. Lore rubbed his hand across his chest, over the hand-shaped scar over his heart. These guys might have the answer to who he was, but really, did it matter? He could pretend to be his own man, could pretend to be a free agent. But the truth was that he was on a short leash connected to the fist of a demon who could—and did—call him to service at any time, on short notice, and for truly vile jobs.

He’d feel the life Lore brought back, and there would be punishment. On top of the punishment for not fulfilling the contract to kill the brothers. If there was one thing Detharu couldn’t abide, it was reneging on a vow.

That, and being cheated out of his cut of the death money.

So Lore was in for a shitload of pain.

Good thing, then, that he liked it.