Hellsbane Hereafter (18 page)

Chapter Fifteen

I asked Sadie to cancel my appointments then took off to help Abram. This was gonna take some time. I pictured the black awning over the windows of Bar None in downtown Manhattan.

With a casual step, I stood on the New York sidewalk in front of the windows and dark awning I’d pictured in my mind. Bar None was printed in white block letters on the sculpted flap. I knew it’d taken Eli even less time to arrive at Jukar’s offices at the other end of town.

Abram had sent him to get me. Eli was pretty confident Abram hadn’t wanted him to return once he’d given me the message. Abram may be the son of a fallen archangel, but he had yet to use his power. I bet he had no idea what he could do. Without those powers, though, he was just your average, snobby college boy. I was pretty sure I could handle him.
In my sleep.

The place was busier than I would’ve expected for a late weekday afternoon. Only three stools at the bar sat empty, along with one of the big booths across the room. The booth across from the empty booth overflowed with college coeds sharing three pitchers of beer and two massive pizzas. More coeds filled tables at the back of the narrow bar, most of them dressed in one sports team’s jerseys or another’s.

Each of the bar’s fourteen TVs glowed throughout the narrow room, casting halos of light on clusters of drinkers, who hooted and cheered at the screens. Abram’s notable lack of enthusiasm made him easy to spot. He slouched on his stool, throwing back a shot before slamming the tiny glass down on the polished wood. He chased the hard liquor with a long chug of beer, then leaned his head against his hand, elbow braced on the bar.

I sighed and pulled out my cell phone. Babysitting a spoiled college kid was bad enough. Babysitting a drunk, spoiled college kid was just asking too much. I decided to delay the torture for a few seconds and thumbed through to my contacts list then hit Mihir’s number. It went straight to voicemail.

“Mihir. It’s me…again. I’m standing here staring at the ring you were supposed to get rid of or hide or whatever. Anyway, clearly that didn’t happen. Now I need to know what this means for the poor sap wearing it and the rest of us who might be collateral damage. I think the sources I’ve got now are giving me the runaround. I need you. Call me.” I tapped the screen off and slipped the phone back into my pocket.

One last sigh and I elbowed my way through the bar-goers, excusing myself most of the way. I finally gave up trying to be polite and just muscled through to the far end of the bar. One of the three open stools stood next to Abram, and I slid up onto it without the kid even throwing a glance my way. “You called?”

He swung bleary eyes my way, recognition flickering a second later. He snorted and turned his attention back to his beer. “You resent that? That why it took you so long to get here? Trying to convince yourself you’ve got a say in any of this? Let me guess. You do what you want, and you just happen to
want
to be at my beck and call.”

I made a
pfft
sound like he was way off base, even though he kinda wasn’t. The kid was drunk, but he wasn’t dumb. “What’s the problem, Abram?”

He motioned for the bartender. “Pour her one of these.” He wagged a finger over his shot glass and beer.

“Make it a Pepsi.”

“Put it on my bill,” Abram said.

I tick-tocked a finger back and forth. “I got it.”

The bartender met my eyes, then glanced at Abram. The kid shrugged, and the bartender left to get my soda like he’d needed Abram’s permission.

Heat radiated under my collar. “Sorry to break it to you, kid, but I’m not your beck-and-call girl. I’m your—”

“You’re my protector,” he interrupted. “I know. I call. You come. You put your body between me and a bullet. You’re life for mine.”

“Naw, kid, you’ve got me confused with the Secret Service. I’ll fight to try and keep you alive, because Jukar asked me to and because I’m good. But I’m no martyr for the cause.” I pushed to my feet, deciding the smug little prick could pay for the soda after all. “Get this straight. You feel scared? You call me. You feel like getting drunk? Call your frat brothers.”

“It sucks. I know,” he said, clearly not noticing my haughty attempt at an exit. He took a swig from his beer and swallowed. “We’re both screwed. You, because your job is to keep me alive, and me, because I’m destined to die.”

Okay, that worked. I stopped, turned back to him. “Who told you that?”

His bloodshot eyes swung up to me. “Our father.”

I slumped back onto the stool. “He told you?”

“Which?” He snorted, though he clearly wasn’t amused. “That he’s my father, or that you’re my half sister?”

“Abram…” Words failed me. He’d caught me totally unprepared. Jukar made it seem as though he wanted to keep the kid in the dark, to keep him normal.

The bartender slid my glass of soda in front of me, and I suddenly wished I’d taken him up on the shot.

Abram shook his head. “Never mind. I’ll save you the time answering. He told me everything. What he is, what I am, what’s going to happen to me…” He took another gulp. “Everything.”

“He told you you’re going to die?” If Abram’s destiny was to die, then how could mine be to save him? If Jukar’s plan hinged on me fulfilling my destiny, could my destiny be only to
try
to save Abram but fail? Amon had said if I didn’t kill Abram, no one would. None of it made sense.

However, so far it’d been my experience that nothing Jukar wanted was ever good for anyone but Jukar. If Jukar counted on his son’s death, I couldn’t let it happen. “You’re not going to die. Trust me.”

He smiled at that. “Thanks, but I don’t think you can stop it. That’s sort of the definition of destiny.” He shrugged. “It’s okay. I mean, it’s kind of cool when you think about it.”

“What, dying?”

“Being a religious martyr,” he said. “I’m in some pretty good company. I’ll be remembered forever. Written about. Maybe even prayed to or worshipped.”

“Right.”
Geez, delusions of grandeur, much?
“Did he tell you how it would happen? How you’d be martyred?”

A smile kicked up at the corner of his mouth. “Still think you can stop it?”

“It’s worth a try,” I said.

He shook his head. “No. He didn’t say. To tell you the truth, I didn’t want to know. But don’t worry. I don’t blame you or anything. I mean, you can’t change your destiny any more than I can change mine. It is what it is.”

“Uh-huh. Very profound. But I don’t give up that easy.” I slid off the stool and glanced away, looking toward the front of the bar. I caught a few sets of eyes staring our way.

My brain skipped over that thought for a second. Why were they staring? I looked closer at our fellow late-afternoon drinkers. It wasn’t just two people staring. I found three more sets of eyes peering at us, one from over someone’s shoulder, another from the seat next to the one I’d emptied, and the third even closer, standing in the near darkness next to the bathroom door behind Abram.

I realized it hadn’t been angry sports enthusiasts making the hair at the back of my neck prickle. It was illorum. “We have to get out of here. We’re surrounded.” I tipped my chin toward the illorum getting up from his seat at the bar, the others, only one of them female, following suit.

My brother followed my stare. “Are they angels?”

“Illorum,” I said. Then Thes walked into the bar.
Crap.
“
That’s
an angel.”

“Is he here to kill me?”

I wanted to say no, but I knew Michael had ordered me to kill Abram. Had he sent this angel and the others here with the same command? “Wait here. I’ll talk to them.”

“No. It’s okay. I’m ready to die.” He inhaled, standing straighter. “I’m ready to take my place in history.”

I patted his chest. “That’s great. But dial back the brave martyr bit. It’s not gonna happen today.”

His shoulders drooped a half inch. “You don’t know that.”

He was right, but I wasn’t ready to admit it. “Just wait here.”

I glanced at the guy next to the bathroom doors. He looked about my age, but illorum stop aging the second they first pick up their sword, so who knew. Still, I got a sense the hipster with the scraggly beard, droopy beanie cap, vest, and jeans would stay put for the moment.

“Stay,” I said one last time to Abram and then made my way through the crowd to the UPS angel.

“Emma Jane,” he said by way of a greeting before I could say anything. “It’s unfortunate to find you here.”

“Yeah. Right back at ya.” I cupped my forehead, the beginnings of a headache pressing between my eyes. “What’re you doing here? Where’s Sadie?”

He flinched at my friend’s name, as though he’d somehow separated her from the rest of his life and duties. Thes lifted his chin. “I told her I had a sudden
work
obligation to take care of.”

I huffed. “So you’re just gonna keep her in the dark then.” Nodding, I smiled and forced a swallow. The tirade surging up inside me stuck in my chest. This thing between them wouldn’t end well. I knew it better than anyone. It pissed me off that my friend would be hurt, or worse, but I didn’t have the power to stop it, and I had more pressing battles to fight at the moment. Literally. “Whatever. Just tell me why you and rest of the lollipop gang are here.”

His pale eyes swept down to me. “We’re here to kill the wicked one before he can spoil mankind.”

“Abram?”

The angel gave a single nod.

“He’s just a stupid college kid. Harmless.” As many problems as it would solve, I couldn’t let them kill him. Whatever they were afraid he’d do, I was pretty sure it would be worse if he died. I just couldn’t get past Jukar telling Abram his destiny was to die and yet mine was to protect him. Was he counting on me betraying him? Did he know that despite everything, my loyalty would be with the seraphim? Instinct crawled up my spine, warning flags waving in my head. Whether I betrayed him or outright failed, Jukar wanted me to let Abram die. I was sure of it. I couldn’t let that happen. “I’ve got this. He listens to me. I won’t let him spoil anything. Trust me.”

Thes’s brows lifted in doubt. “Trust you? Tell me, why does the boy listen to you?”

I slipped my hands into the back pockets of my jeans, going for my innocent, aw-shucks persona. “He looks up to me like a big sister.”
Not a lie.

“Which is why I don’t trust you,” he said.

Huh…good point.

Someone screamed, and the sounds of a scuffle rose over the game on the TVs. I turned and pushed my way back toward Abram. The thud of fists hitting meat and swords clashing chased the crowd toward me, and I moved faster, slipping between them. An instant later the last human was behind me, and a life-and-death battle raged before me.

Each of the illorum I’d spotted before had advanced, and several demons had slipped out of hiding among the human bar-goers. One demon already lay dead, and just as I stepped into the back room, another died at the hands of an illorum.

The stench of brimstone turned my stomach, the demon’s young, male body falling limp to the floor, his head already melting into a mess of steaming black goo. The female illorum had killed him, and a part of me couldn’t help feeling a quick surge of pride.

The emotion died quickly when she stepped over the demon’s disintegrating body and headed for Abram. My attention shifted ahead of her, seeing Abram, sword in hand, battling his own illorum. The dark-haired man, not much older than Abram, dressed in faded jeans and a black T-shirt, moved so fast his sword was nearly a blur. My half brother matched him blow for blow.

For a heart-stopping instant I thought Abram had picked up an illorum sword. He’d be marked, he’d be an illorum. Jukar’s son would belong to Michael until he chose to betray Michael by lifting his sword against a warrior of God, which he was already doing. The light caught his blade, his wrist flashed, the skin still smooth and unmarked. It wasn’t an illorum sword. He must have taken it from one of the demons. They made their swords from Earthly metal with no connection to seraphim or Fallen. But they could be just as deadly.

“Abram!” It was too late. Abram moved too fast. The illorum was caught unprepared for his speed. My half brother’s sword sliced through the illorum’s neck clean and fast. Blood sprayed like a stomped packet of ketchup, splattering the ceiling, speckling over Abram’s pale face, staining his clothes.

He stumbled back, stunned by what he’d done. The female illorum didn’t give him time to grapple with his morality. She swung her sword, revenge fueling her will and her speed.

I understood her pain. If I opened myself to her I’d be able to feel it as though it were my own. I didn’t have to. I already knew exactly what it was like; I had felt it when I lost Tommy. I understood, but I still couldn’t let her kill Abram. I called my sword, sensation tingling through my veins flowing from every corner of my body, down my arm, and into my hand. The hilt and blade formed from nothing, from me, nestling perfectly in my palm.

Faster than anyone except maybe Thes could move, I raced across the room, avoiding swinging swords with every step. Demons battled illorum, fighting so close it was a wonder no one was struck by accident. Before the woman could realize what had changed, I blocked her sword strikes, placing myself between her and Abram.

I yelled over my shoulder. “Abram, run.”

“No. I can fight.”

My attention focused on the woman again, her face scrunched with rage, teeth bared, cheeks blazing red. Her long cocoa-brown hair swung in a thick ponytail as she moved, and her fit body moved easily in skinny jeans and a snug green top over a pink camisole. She was pretty, girly in a way I wasn’t, yet still a fierce, determined fighter.

But her swings were wild now, emotion taking its toll on her skill. I blocked her strikes, seeing how the next would come even before her body shifted to make it.

I could kill her easily. She was no match for me. The knowledge shot a bolt of fear through me unlike anything I’d ever felt, tightening my muscles. Not fear for myself, but fear for her. I couldn’t let her kill Abram, but I truly did not want to hurt her. Where would I draw the line? Whose life would I sacrifice? One of them would die unless I could figure a way around it.