Authors: SM Reine
The camp stirred with activity. The angels were ready.
Elise watched as blue light began encircling the vehicles, forming a rune in the sky. She inhaled the scent of the magic, like ozone and burning grass. She bet she could have cast the spell better.
“I need some of your wolves for the next leg of my mission,” Elise said.
“No. I want them all.”
“There are lives at stake. I might need their help.”
“Tough,” Abel growled. “I’ve got a score to settle.”
Elise thought about fighting him on it, since the only reason he even had those wolf spirits was because she had given them to him, but she could tell that he was ready to fight over this. Abel was going to fight anyone and everyone who got in the way of avenging Rylie.
So she said, “Fine.” She’d just have to kill the Fates some other way.
Abel moved toward the cars. When he moved, there was more motion behind him. The wolf spirits were trailing him at all times now.
As he left, she called to him. “Make it a fair fight, Abel.”
His shoulders were tense, his eyes dark, rage in every line of his body.
But he nodded.
Ariane joined Elise. She was carrying her entire bag of tricks now, not just the herbs. “Do you want me to—?”
“Yes,” Elise said. “Yes. I think we need to.”
“Very well,” Ariane said.
Elise waited until the entire group of cars was taken away in a flare of ethereal light. It hurt to watch the angels leave, knowing that they held the lives of people she cared about in their hands and that she couldn’t follow.
Belphegor was a more immediate danger. He’d threatened her friends, and Elise only had so many friends left to kill.
Once the village was empty, Elise vanished into the night, taking her mother with her.
Belphegor would know she was coming. It was time to get a few steps ahead of God.
Elise had told
Abel not to attack until the angels transported them to the gate in the Himalayas.
So he waited.
It hurt, but he waited.
He stood under the electric blue rune, watching one of those feathery-winged bastards cast the spell, and he didn’t attack. He saw Leliel, the one in charge, smile to one of her companions—and he still didn’t attack. Even when he felt the wolf boiling in his blood, he didn’t attack.
Summer stood by his side, all tangled up in the wolf spirits that followed him everywhere now. “Which one did it?” she asked, bathed in the blue light of magic. It brought out the lighter tones in her skin, the hints of gold in her hair.
“That one,” he said, pointing to Leliel. “She ordered it.”
Summer didn’t seem surprised. “She’s Nash’s ex-wife.”
“I’m going to kill her.”
She bit her bottom lip. She looked down at her feet.
This was when it would come—the warning not to attack or do anything else likely to get him killed.
Instead, she told him, “I’ll warn the guys.”
She drifted off to tell Abram and Nash and even Levi. One by one, the men turned to look at Abel.
All of them looked as angry as he felt.
Abel gave a small nod to Nash, and Nash nodded back.
“Ten seconds,” Leliel announced, her voice echoing over the farming village.
Ten seconds. Just ten more fucking seconds.
The pack drew in closer, gathering around Abel. The group was a hell of a lot smaller now. It was weird to look at all those faces and see that people like Paetrick weren’t among them. All of the people that Rylie had been friendliest with were gone. The nice ones, the people who didn’t like to fight.
The ones who remained were the ones who didn’t mind being werewolves. People who shared in Abel’s aggression.
“Five seconds,” Leliel said.
Summer was whispering to the witches, Brianna and Ariane. Warning them what was to come.
There was no way the angels could have missed what Abel was planning. They were spreading out around the edge of the circle too, watching him warily, waiting to see what he was going to do.
Leliel’s voice broke out over the night. “Now!”
A column of blazing light erupted from the giant rune, filling the entire street. It encompassed all the cars, the wolves, the witches, the other allies. Even the angels.
Everything froze.
For an instant, Abel’s feet lifted off of the ground. Just a couple of inches. Just enough to make him feel disoriented, out of his skin.
He noticed that Abram had drawn his gun in one hand. The other hand was on Levi’s shoulder, like he was making sure they didn’t get separated in the teleportation.
Then the rune flashed, and the village was gone.
A mountain peak appeared where the fields of rice had been. It was cold and snowy and the wind was strong enough to suck Abel’s breath from his lungs. He landed on snow-slicked stone, lost his footing, collapsing to all fours.
He began shifting as soon as he was certain that the transportation was over, even as the vehicles were still landing around him, smashing into the mountainside with crunches that told Abel they wouldn’t be driving anywhere after this.
They were in the mountains, and he could see the gate to Eden just a little further up the slope, glowing faintly with inner fire.
He’d waited to attack like Elise had asked.
Now they were at the gate, and the time for waiting had ended.
The angels spread their wings and caught the wind. They began to take off. Leliel was in the air within seconds.
“They’re running!” Abel shouted. Or at least, that was what he tried to shout. He was already midway to wolf and his mouth didn’t work right, so the words came out a slurred growl.
Summer shrieked behind him. “Abram!”
Abel’s eyes zeroed in on one of the ascending angels. It was the one who could cast magic, and his arms were locked around Abram as they climbed toward the sky. Beyond the clouds, he glimpsed a sliver of Heaven—impossible to tell which one, but it didn’t really matter.
They were taking his son.
The angels hadn’t merely anticipated an attack. They had prepared an attack of their own—an attack specifically on Abram.
Abel shifted faster as he rushed up the mountain, leaping from peak to peak. The mage was flying low to avoid sinkholes into other dimensions. He wasn’t out of reach yet. But Abel was slow, his bones shifting as he raced to catch Abram, and it made him slip.
The spirit wolves flooded around him, more nimble on the mountain than he was. Their paws didn’t even need to connect with the ground in order to climb. They lifted on the wind, rushing toward Abram and the mage.
Both angel and human vanished into another dimension before the pack could reach them.
With howls, they spiraled back to Abel, ruffling through his fur.
He could almost hear their thoughts now. They didn’t think like people did, but they were definitely individuals with distinctive personalities. Some were angrier than others.
Right now, all of them were furious that Abram had been taken.
Abel agreed.
Hands seized his shifting shoulders, and he launched into the air. Surprised, he yelped and thrashed. “Hold still,” Nash grunted. “You’re heavy enough as it is.” His wings thrust against the air, carrying them into the foggy dampness of the clouds. Abel struggled to breathe in the cold.
When they broke through, they were no longer high above the Himalayas.
They were plunging headfirst toward Heaven.
Shamain was pocked with volcanos, like pustules on a rotting body. Rivers of magma flowed through leafless, shriveled trees. Halfway up one of the cobblestone streets, the city turned to cracked, dusty pavement and black temples with iron spires.
Heaven and Hell had merged.
Gravity shifted, and Nash shouted as it dragged them down. They began to spiral toward a magma lake that reeked of rotten eggs, its gases burning Abel’s nose.
The mage who held Abram captive was struggling for altitude, too. Abel could smell blood and gunpowder tracing through the wind. Abram had shot him multiple times.
“Get ready!” Nash shouted into the wind, and then he dropped Abel.
They were positioned directly over the mage. Abel tumbled toward the other angel, paws extended below him, claws glimmering in the light of the fires.
The city grew huge around him.
Abel slammed into the mage’s back and bit down on his shoulder.
With a cry, the angel dropped Abram. Nash swooped past, catching Abram only a few feet above the magma, and beat his wings hard to climb on the hot winds of Hell once more.
Good. Nash wouldn’t let him die.
Abel and the mage continued to plummet. He sank his teeth into the nearest wing and ripped his head back, shredding the feathers. Abel had gotten pretty good at severing angel wings when he’d been fighting in Dis; there was a perfect place to drive his fangs between the beating muscles that would rip the tendons and loosen the joint. Then all it took was a hard tug, and…
pop
.
But it was hard to grip while they were falling, and he didn’t manage to rip the wing free before they plowed into the ground on a narrow island between rivers.
The angel rolled to his feet, shoving Abel off of him. “Leliel!”
Abel squinted through the smoky sky. Lightning flashed. He glimpsed Leliel dogfighting with Nash, who was slowed by Abram’s weight.
Pain blazed down Abel’s side, and he yelped, twisting away from the attack. The mage had taken his moment of distraction to slash at him with one of those sabers. Luckily, its blade wasn’t on fire—but it was white-hot from being dipped in magma.
The angel slashed again. Abel was ready for it this time. He threw himself down and the blade whistled over his head. Just as quickly, the blade angled, sweeping around for another blow. The sheer speed of it was shocking. Angels were almost as fast as werewolves.
Almost.
Abel dodged again, broke through the mage’s guard, and tackled him to the ground.
Ripping out the angel’s throat wasn’t as effective a way to disable him as removing his wings, but it was satisfying to taste that silver blood and hear the pained gurgles.
Abel didn’t stick around to watch him die.
The Alpha leaped onto the drooping branches of a dead tree and used it to scramble over one of the magma rivers to the other shore. Heaven and Hell had merged just a few feet away from that tree, blending an ethereal temple with something that looked like a factory. With a single, powerful leap, Abel landed on the rooftop and scrambled up the tile.
The spirit wolves climbed with him, baying as Abel launched himself to the next building, taller than the last.
He howled to Nash, calling for help.
Nash didn’t respond. Abel couldn’t even see him anymore.
He couldn’t climb anywhere higher. He had reached the tallest point that he could see through all the smoke. In any case, the division between Earth and Hell wasn’t far; Abel could smell the snowy mountains waiting for him just a few hundred feet above his head.
Leliel appeared again, breaking through the clouds. Nash was right behind her. Abram clung to him—just barely.
Abel summoned the spirit wolves and pushed the command to them.
Get me Leliel
.
They swirled into the night like they were part of the smoke, converging on Leliel and swarming her with their furred bodies.
She screamed as she fell, beating her fists ineffectually at the wolves. She couldn’t seem to touch them.
But they could touch her.
Bite marks peppered her flesh as she plummeted toward Abel. Silvery blood streaked her skin and stained her filmy peach dress.
He crouched, gathering his strength, and watched her fall. She wasn’t going to land nearby—she was approaching one of the magma rivers.
Once she was within range, he leaped from the roof.
Abel connected with Leliel’s body, diverting both of them past the magma river onto a patch of what had once been grass. They slammed into the ground, rolling ankles over wings, coming to a stop against the foundation of a collapsed building.
Leliel elbowed him in the face, shoving Abel’s weight off of her. Then she began flapping again to chase Nash.
Abel didn’t let her go. He leaped onto her back, dug his claws in, and forced her to take him for a ride.
She kept flying as though he weren’t attached. She was fast and strong, even faster than her target, and she quickly began to gain on them. Nash was trying to carry Abram back to the mountaintop. They were already in the clouds, and Leliel wasn’t far behind.
Abel felt the instant that they crossed back into Earth’s atmosphere. Not because of the change in temperature and smells, but because of the changed gravity.
He waited until he was certain they were back on Earth before ripping one of Leliel’s wings off.
He didn’t err in biting this time; he felt his jaws clamp down on just the right spot, and he heard the satisfying
pop
of the joint becoming disconnected.
Suddenly, Leliel was falling much, much faster than Nash and Abram. And the mountain was very close.
Leliel smashed into a cliff.
They bounced off the rocks and he lost his grip on her back. He skittered down the slope. His claws couldn’t get traction. Leliel was all tangled up in him, legs and arms and helplessly flapping wing, and now she was the one pulling him down.
They bounced toward a second ridge—one much steeper than the cliff they’d hit.
Nash caught Abel by the tail before he could fall off.
“Sorry,” the angel said when Abel yelped.
He regained his footing quickly, yanking his tail out of the angel’s hands.
Leliel was crying a few feet away. She had caught herself on the edge of the icy cliff, both hands just barely clinging to safety. There was so much blood slicking her bitten arms that she was sliding, even with her fingertips digging into the cracks in the rocks.
“Nashriel!” she cried.
It wasn’t her ex-husband who responded to her call—but Abram.
He hauled her onto the ground at his feet and aimed his gun at her forehead. Leliel didn’t look at the gun. She looked past it, up his arm, to his face. “I can see the resemblance,” she whispered, pain twisting her features. “You have the same capacity for cruelty.”