Blood Redemption (Angel's Edge #3) (36 page)

I couldn’t spare much attention to their unfolding drama, however. Ethan and I had problems of our own. A trio of Fallen angels had us in their sights, and were barreling down on us, swords raised high. The blades already had blood on them. Their features twisted into feral grins as they grew closer. I wasn’t that worried on my account. Belial wanted me alive, to use as a weapon. But Ethan… he would be collateral damage. I had to do something.

The Shadows had been crawling across my palms from the moment the armies charged each other. I dug deep for them now, touching that reserve of Darkness I seemed to carry with me wherever I went. The Shadows raced through my veins instead of across my skin, finding the Dark place and drawing energy from it. I could feel their cold power running all through me like I was about to explode. I would explode, if I didn’t find release. I aimed at the oncoming threat, palms out, and let the Shadows free in the most forceful blast I could manage.

Without Jack, I lacked control, but the black lightning pouring from me found my target anyway. Two of the Fallen were blasted backward. They landed on the ground in a heap and didn’t move again. Had I killed them? Regret and remorse swamped me. But in the midst of the clang and clamor of battle, I knew the emotion was something I would have to deal with later. I filed away my feelings and whirled to meet the next threat.

But Ethan had beaten me to it. He knelt over the last black-clad body, surveying the damage on one knee. Azazel’s blade, held loose in one hand, dripped black ichor. The Fallen one’s upper body had been severed in one clean cut, right across the chest. Ethan, panting, looked up at me.

“Impressive.” He indicated the Fallen angels with a nod. “But I have some real concern about how long we can hold out against the rest.”

“I could do so much more if Jack was with me.” But Jack was behind us as the battle raged all around. Ethan and I stood in almost the dead center of the conflict. It would be difficult, if not impossible, for him to find us in it.

“We’ll just have to make due.” Ethan sounded grim, his words slow and heavy. He straightened and raised his sword, already looking for the next threat. “Back to back, then.”

I spun so that Ethan was behind me. The whole length of him stretched against me, his every muscle taut to breaking. Each deep breath drummed against me, and he balanced himself with a careful steadiness. I wanted to reach out to him, to run my fingers down his arm and jaw and cheek, but there was no time. Gray shapes, moving fast and low to the ground, began to weave their way through the fighters. Ethan stiffened behind me, and I knew he had seen them. What kind of threat were they, and how could we best meet it?

One of the shapes passed closer to us, and I could just make out bushy tails, angry yellow eyes, and rough fur. Wolves. There were wolves loose in Bain’s meadow. I could hardly believe my eyes, but Ethan couldn’t have been more excited.

“They’re on our side!” he said, turning his head to yell in my ear. “The werewolves are with us! Our forces must be breaking through.”

Werewolves? We had werewolves? Mentally I cursed at myself for not paying more attention to our own fighters. I wondered what else Whitfield had managed to dredge up into an army.

I wondered if I knew any of them.

The wolves wove in and out among the fighting angels. I watched as one of them launched himself at a wasteland demon, catching it by the throat as they both went down in a hailstorm of dirt. Yet another wolf howled when an angel of Light slashed it across the flank. For a moment, it looked as if the wolves might make a real difference, that they might tip the scale our way.

And then, from far back in the trees behind Belial’s line of fighters, came a low, haunting howl. I recognized the sound, and my spine turned to ice. Hellhounds. Belial was sending the hounds against our wolves. Dark shapes rushed out from the sheltering forest, snapping at anything in their path. Their teeth were huge and sharp, and their eyes glowed red as they spread out among the crowd. More than one of them collided with a gray shape, and watched as they both fell snarling to the ground.

At least one of the Hellhounds wasn’t interested in werewolves. It veered around a pair of fighting angels and headed straight toward Ethan and me. I wondered which would work best against the creature: Shadows or blades. I decided to try both. I hefted one dagger, feeling out its balance, while I raised my other palm outward.

Only to have it grabbed by a calloused, tattooed hand. Out of pure instinct, I pulled against it, but the hand holding mine wouldn’t let go. Then I saw who it was.

Jack. Jack had found me at last. He raised our hands together, pointing them at the Hellhound. A burst of bright blue light erupted from us, and hit the creature directly in the chest. One minute, it was an imminent threat, and the next, nothing but a smoldering hole in the ground. We had completely obliterated it.

“See?” Jack grinned, letting go of my hand at last. “We can fight these bastards. And win.”

I didn’t share his confidence―not yet, anyway―but I did feel better now that he was by my side. Bait or not, we stood a much better chance now that we were together than we had as merely half a weapon each. With Ethan at my back and Jack by my side, I felt much more protected.

That illusion of protection lasted about fifteen seconds. Through the screams of rage and pain, through the slashing, hacking fighters, came Belial. He moved through the melee, stepping with smooth strides through gaps in the fighting where none had been before. And he was headed straight for us.

aybe he’s just here to talk,” I said nervously, eyeing Belial’s giant abyss-wings and the flames that wavered on the edges. I had never seen wings that did that until I met him. I hoped I never would again.

“Nope, that got covered already,” Ethan said, still pressed against my back. “You were there, remember?”

“I just thought… maybe he hadn’t finished?” I answered with little conviction. “Like maybe I just interrupted him. Because of, you know, me prematurely killing someone.”

Jack just shrugged beside me. “If you ask me, you killed too few, too late.” His palm was still rough in mine, keeping our hands raised together and held out in front of us, ready to strike as soon as the need arose.

Looking at an approaching Belial, I wondered if the two of us together would be enough. Werewolves were one thing, but the ruler of the Twilight Kingdom? Jack seemed to sense my unease and gave our linked hands a gentle squeeze.

“You didn’t start this,” Ethan reassured me. “This was poised to happen anyway. This has been building for thousands of years.”

“But why me, why now?” I caught myself almost wailing, but stopped before I sounded too much like an angry toddler. “What does Belial want with me? As if anything could bring back that Nephilim woman he loved?”

“You have to believe it’s not really about you,” Ethan assured me again. This time, he had moved to my side, where his reassuring human warmth pressed against me. “He’s here for me. Never doubt that. It’s revenge, pure and simple. Revenge and the power you might bring him. Anything resembling an ability to love died out long ago.”

Belial headed for us, wading through groups of fighting angels and supernaturals as if he was strolling through a crowd at the mall. His lifeless eyes trained on our little group. Despair swamped me at Ethan’s words. My former Fallen angel of a boyfriend was most likely right. Belial was coming for him, and might kill him before taking me back to the Dark Realms. I would much rather have the demon coming for me alone. At least I had Nephilim abilities. Ethan had been stripped of everything, leaving him utterly mortal and defenseless, unless you counted his immunity to magic as an ability. But we knew very little about that at all, and I doubted it was going to help against the king of the Twilight Kingdom.

But Ethan wasn’t completely defenseless, I realized. He hefted Azazel’s blade in his hands, holding it so that it flashed in the light. “You’ll have to go through me to get to her,” he called to the almost-mirror image of himself.

Belial laughed. It wasn’t a pleasant sound, and the hair on the back of my neck stood on end. “That’s exactly what would make me the happiest,” Belial said, and lunged for Ethan, who danced out of his way. The two circled around each other, wary and watchful.

I was so terrified I forgot to breathe until Jack yanked on my hand. “Hellhound!” he yelled at me.

I had forgotten not just to breathe, but that there was a battle raging, as well. At least, a battle involving more than the demon and his brother in front of me. I pulled Shadows with effort, casting covert glances at Belial and Ethan as Jack and I prepared to fight together.

Belial was the first to move. He handled his massive sword like a toothpick, swinging it out and thrusting it upward in an effort to get inside Ethan’s guard. But Ethan was too quick; he jumped backward, ducking the upper half of his body out of the way, while his lower half stayed tense and ready, poised on the balls of his feet, waiting for the next strike. Belial snarled and moved closer, readying his arm for another swing. Ethan took a long stride forward, landing so close to Belial it was too late for the demon to check his swing. Belial’s sword met only air. Ethan raised Azazel’s blade and swung it hard, catching his brother across the shoulder. I knew demon’s skin was as hard as stone, as impenetrable to mortal weapons as any angel’s was, but Azazel’s blade sliced clean through it, leaving a deep leaking fissure. Belial howled as Ethan danced backward, out of the circle of combat.

“Caspia!” Jack shouted. He jerked me forward so hard my whole arm was almost wrenched out of its socket. “Pay attention, damn it!” Shadows erupted in a thick, controlled line. I had no idea of the target until a huge, black, wolfish shape came skidding to a halt just inches from our feet. My entire focus had been on Ethan and Belial; I hadn’t seen the Hellhound coming. Thank god for Jack.

“Sorry!” I shouted back. I surveyed the battle raging in our immediate vicinity. An angel in golden armor fought a shifter several feet away from us. Hatred sparked in the angel’s cold blue eyes as the shifter―a white wolf with blue eyes and bristly fur―snapped and tore at his ankles. Werewolf claws . I watched in awe as the wolf opened a long gash on the angel’s thigh. No fluid leaked through, but the angel threw back his head and howled in pain. He swept at the shifter with one massive gauntleted arm, sending the wolf sprawling on its side.