Her Avenging Angel (Her Angel Romance Series Book 7) (38 page)

Her talons twitched and stilled like a statue.

The violet in her eyes faded, becoming dark grey.

Nevar halted in the air, threw his head back and roared his agony at the ceiling of Hell.

No. He refused to believe what he was seeing. She couldn’t be gone. He couldn’t have failed her. Not again.

He screamed until he was hoarse and dizzy, his fury blasting through him, mingling with grief and turning him numb before it transformed into something else. Something darker.

He breathed hard, his talons and fangs elongating, and his black blades reappeared in his burned hands. He gripped them, not feeling the pain. Physical trauma was nothing, inconsequential.

Eclipsed by the agony tearing apart his heart.

She stood as a statue, cold and motionless.

His beautiful Lysia.

She had only wanted to live, just as he had.

She had wanted to be free and to share that freedom with someone.

With him.

Now, she was gone.

The one good thing in his life, the one thing that had given it purpose and meaning, was gone.

He turned cold violet eyes on the black-haired angel below him.

Rage blazed through him, fiery and hot, driving him to lay waste to the angel and those who had assisted him in killing his beautiful Lysia, stealing her away from him and stealing her future away from her.

He obeyed that dark desire and need, surrendering to it and the release it promised him.

The angel would pay. All would pay.

He would avenge her.

N
evar roared and shot down towards the black-haired angel with one powerful beat of his obsidian wings.

“Stop.” Asmodeus held his hand out but Nevar refused to heed his command, ignoring the deep tug behind his breastbone and pushing through the compulsion to halt his attack.

He bared his fangs and slammed into the black-haired angel, knocking him out of the grip of the shadows under Asmodeus’s command. The inky ribbons snapped at Nevar, sinking into his calves and thighs, and he snarled at them and slashed with his sword, severing their tips. They shrank back, going to swirl around Asmodeus’s hands and feet.

Nevar pushed off the angel beneath him, sent his blade away, and hit him hard with a right hook, and then hit him again, pounding his face as he grasped his throat and pinned him to the ground. A hand closed around his right arm as he went to hurl another blow at his foe, twisted it, and tossed him through the air.

He spread his wings and set his sights on the newcomer. The white-haired one.

“Mihail,” Nevar sneered and beat his wings, zooming down towards the bastard as he sought to help the black-haired one onto his feet.

He was as irritating as Astaroth.

Nevar called both of his curved black swords back to him and roared as he brought them above his head, tucked his right knee against his stomach with his left leg pointed below him, and swung hard as he dropped out of the air above Mihail, his swords aimed directly at his back.

The pale-haired one appeared between them, his twin sickle-shaped blades deflecting Nevar’s blow, and thrust forwards with both swords, cutting at him.

Nevar beat his wings and shot backwards, beyond the angel’s reach. He growled through his fangs at the interfering angel and then set his violet eyes back on the black-haired one.

“Mihail, take Rafael and drop back. Gabriel and I can handle this,” the pale-haired one said, his green eyes locked on Nevar, an edge to them that relayed his belief that Nevar was little more than a bug to be trampled out of existence under his heel.

He bowed to no man, angel or demon.

Never again.

“You will pay for what you took from me.” Nevar pointed his sword at the black-haired one, the one called Rafael. “I will bathe this land in your entrails.”

Rafael shrugged free of Mihail’s grip and smirked at him. “I would like to see you try.”

“Rafael,” Mihail snapped but his subordinate paid him no heed as he drew a black spear from the air with one hand and wiped the back of the other across his face, cleaning the blood off his chin and mouth.

Nevar breathed hard, lost to the darkness and welcoming it as strength flowed through him and the shadows covering his skin began to bleed from his fingertips, twining around his talons.

He looked down at them and smiled.

It seemed he shared other abilities with his master.

His smile stretched, becoming a grin that flashed his fangs as the shadows fluttered, awaiting his command.

Rafael stared at his hands and his smirk faded.

“Our duty is not done here,” Mihail said and Nevar frowned at him. What did he mean by that? “Finish him quickly.”

Rafael nodded.

Asmodeus roared and unleashed his shadows, sending them shooting towards Mihail like javelins. The angel was quick to defend with his white sword, cutting through the black spears and beating his white wings to gain ground to evade the rest. Asmodeus flapped his black wings and went after him.

Amelia and Marcus went after the red-haired one, Gabriel.

Apollyon and Einar targeted the nameless pale-haired one, the largest of the four.

Nevar grinned.

Divide and conquer.

Rafael suddenly looked less certain about the outcome of the fight and less inclined to attack him. Never mind. Nevar was happy to make the first move.

He thrust his hand forwards and sent his shadows streaming towards the black-haired angel. The male cut through some with his black spear and dodged the rest. Nevar huffed and twisted his hand, commanding the shadows to pursue his foe.

The angel bared his teeth as one struck his ankle and wrapped around it, swiftly snaking upwards to cover him up to his knee. Nevar yanked his hand back to him, sending Rafael face-first into the sharp basalt pebbles that covered the ground and then lifting him into the air upside down.

Rafael grunted and hung for a moment before hauling himself upwards and slashing through the shadow. It severed and he dropped, hitting the ground on his back.

Nevar sent more shadows after him and pursued them, his one blade at the ready to cut the bastard down when he reached him and his shadows had captured him.

The first shadow struck hard, puncturing the angel’s black wing and pinning it to the ground. The rest of the shadows hit in rapid succession, each punching a hole in the angel’s wings, leaving him spread out like an insect in a display case.

Nevar raised his sword and roared as he hurtled towards the angel.

A huge explosion rocked the air and shook the ground and he barely had time to look towards the source of it, the gate beyond Lysia’s black stone form, before the shockwave hit him. The inky blast slammed into his side, tearing him away from the angel and sending him flying through the air with the others, hurling him far from the rest of his side.

He fought to level off and froze when he managed it, numbed to his core by the crater where the gate had been and the swirling black liquid that spun and twisted above it.

Angels rushed in to contain the liquid that formed the barrier between Hell and the mortal realm as it struck out at the land like a living being. Wherever it touched, things disappeared. Teleported to the other side?

It took out a whole section of the angels.

More raced to replace them, light glowing from their hands as they held them facing the mass of black liquid.

Nevar looked for the others, scanning the angels scattered around the black land. Asmodeus was picking himself up off the ground a short distance away, nursing his left arm, back in his normal form again. Blood covered most of his arm, leaving only a few patches of pale skin visible. Beyond him, Amelia and Marcus were huddled together, Marcus having taken the brunt of the blast, holding her tucked in his arms with his back to the epicentre.

Einar had been hurled the furthest. Nevar spotted him with Lukas over five hundred feet from where he had last seen them.

Rafael spat blood out onto the black ground a short distance from Nevar and pushed back onto his feet, swaying a little as he leaned on his spear, using it for support.

Nevar called his black blades back to him.

He would finish this while the angel was still recovering from the blow the explosion had dealt.

He beat his wings and advanced a few metres until the ground below shook again and his gaze shot off to his left, towards the fallen gate.

Her charred form broke apart, falling to pieces before his eyes, and he couldn’t take it. He clenched his fists around the hilts of his blades and tried to look away and spare himself the pain of seeing the final thing he had to remember her by splintering and crashing down into a pile of rubble, but he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

A shiver ran down his limbs and his spine.

Amidst the black pieces of basalt lay a pale hand.

He blinked, sure he was seeing things, was imagining what he wanted to see, but it didn’t disappear. It was real.

Rafael spread his wings and took flight, heading towards her broken form and the pale hand sticking out of it. Nevar looked around and his heart hitched as he saw the other three angels were racing in the same direction.

Their mission wasn’t over.

Nevar roared and flew after them, determined to reach her before they did.

Lysia was still alive.

Mihail reached her first, grabbed her hand, and pulled her upwards, out of the rubble. Black dust covered her bare body and her head drooped forwards, her dark hair a tangled mess. Nevar focused on her and flew harder when he heard the steady, slow thump of her heart.

“Lysia.” Nevar sent one blade away and hurled his right hand forwards, sending his shadows shooting towards her.

They blasted past Rafael and the angel swerved and shot a glare over his shoulder at him.

He ignored him and kept reaching for Lysia.

Mihail looked down at her unconscious form and then back at him, a flicker of emotion crossing his eyes, one that Nevar couldn’t bring himself to believe was real. He looked remorseful.

The white-haired angel closed his eyes and lowered his head. “I am sorry, but it must be this way.”

Bright golden light shot down, the beam blinding Nevar for a moment until his eyes adjusted to it. In the centre of the column, Mihail lifted Lysia into his arms and tipped his face upwards, towards Heaven.

The light stuttered and disappeared, taking Mihail and Lysia with it.

Three more beams shot down, reclaiming the other angels of the apocalypse.

“No,” Nevar roared and hit the ground hard, stumbling a few steps before crashing to his knees.

Asmodeus appeared beside him with Amelia and Marcus but Nevar didn’t take his eyes off the pile of black rubble.

“She isn’t dead,” he whispered.

Asmodeus crouched beside him and placed his hand on Nevar’s shoulder. “I know. I sensed it too.”

He slid his gaze across to Asmodeus, meeting his golden eyes, and sagged, every bone aching and muscle screaming in agony now that he had stopped fighting and the flood of adrenaline was leaving him, despair flowing in its wake to fill him.

His black form faded away, the shadows slipping from his chest and stomach and running down his arms and legs, stopping just above his elbows and knees. His talons shortened back into normal black claws and his horns shrank.

Lukas and Einar landed in front of him.

Nevar lifted his eyes to the blond mediator. An angel of Heaven.

“What will they do with her?” He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer to that question, but part of him needed to know it.

Lukas sent his spear away and closed his eyes, his chin dipping as he sighed. “They will incarcerate her.”

“I cannot let that happen.” Nevar pressed his left hand into the dirt and pushed himself up, slowly rising onto his feet. His legs wobbled beneath his weight. “I cannot. I do not want her to wake alone in Heaven without me… she will be frightened.”

A worse situation crossed his mind.

They might keep her unconscious, trapped within her own body, a prisoner subjected to the torture of seeing horrific endless replays of her past deaths.

It was her worst nightmare.

He couldn’t let that happen to her again. He wouldn’t.

“What will you do?” Lukas said.

Nevar mustered his strength and called his blades to his hands.

“I will take her back. I will set her free.” Nevar flexed his fingers around the hilts of his blades. “I will tear down Heaven if that is what it takes.”

Asmodeus rose to his feet. A golden blade appeared in his right hand and he placed his left hand on Nevar’s shoulder as Amelia and Marcus came to flank him. His golden gaze simmered with red fire as he squeezed Nevar’s shoulder.

“And you will not be alone.”

T
he plan was simple.

Nevar just hoped it would be effective.

He sat on the sand in the shadow of the swaying palm trees, a warm breeze stroking his bare chest and his gaze fixed on the bright turquoise water of the shallow lagoon.

When all this was over, he would bring Lysia here, back to the island she had been fond of, and he would teach her how to swim. He would give her that moment of normalcy she had wanted with him, a carefree moment, the sort that lovers should share.

He rested his forearms on his bent knees and studied each small wave that rolled and lapped against the shore, using the serenity of the scene and the steady sound of the ocean to find a sense of peace.

Calm amongst the storm raging within him, darkness that even now threatened to boil out of control.

He pressed his left hand to his chest. He would give it the freedom it desired and the blood and violence it hungered for. All in good time.

Einar and Veiron were busy healing the others, preparing them for the battle that lay ahead.

He had to be patient.

Nevar lifted his jade gaze to the blue vault above him and closed his eyes, pressed his fingers into his chest, and sought Lysia. She was far beyond his reach, but he would tear down the sky to seize hold of her and bring her back to him.