It wasn’t safe for her to travel alone. She couldn’t fight off an army of Rogues with her father’s blade. She wasn’t sure how much sleep they’d managed between them, but they were up before dawn to meet at the car as they’d planned. Grim had disappeared. She blinked at shadows to determine if the hellhound was lurking near his master, but couldn’t decide if her gooseflesh was in response to the cool morning air or the beast’s stare.
“We should separate and meet at the river, but I don’t want to leave you on your own and Grim won’t cooperate,” Michael said.
Lily wouldn’t have been keen to travel alone with the hellhound anyway.
“I’ll think cold thoughts,” she promised, knowing it was a lie.
“Will you?” Michael challenged. He had placed his guitar in the back seat and he braced his hands against the top of the car on the driver’s side. Lily stood in the open door of the passenger side and met his gaze over the dusty roof. Something in his narrowed eyes spoke of tension and she dropped her eyes, but that only led her to look at his white-knuckled grip.
“Maybe you’re the one that needs to chill?” Lily suggested.
“I’m working on it. Trust me,” Michael said. He pushed away from the car and got behind the wheel in one fast, fluid motion. Lily swallowed. If this was him working on tamping down his Brimstone burn, she couldn’t imagine him letting go. Couldn’t, but did for several long moments as she tried to remember how to get into the car like a woman who wasn’t lost in thoughts that could get her killed.
Only the sudden thought that the daemon king had known exactly what he was doing when he’d thrown them together spurred her to take a deep breath and get into the car. He wanted them harried and hounded by Rogues. He wanted them drawn together. He wanted them to crave the forbidden fruit while they went for the wings.
A mantle fit for a future king.
She’d wondered what Ezekiel’s entire scheme entailed and maybe she was beginning to have an inkling of an answer. It was in the flush on her skin as she sat too close to Michael in the enclosed space. It was in the deep breath she took as she buckled her seat belt, already craving the scent of his skin, warmed from the outside by sun and from the inside by his fire.
Ezekiel was an Ancient One. He’d fallen from heaven to rule in hell. He’d battled Rogues for centuries. But he was a complex being with many facets all tilted toward strengthening his kingdom.
Michael’s reluctance as the prince and heir of the throne was well-known, but Ezekiel was determined that he would be a king. Ezekiel had ruled alone for too long. He might want more for his beloved Elizabeth’s grandson.
The idea of her royal guardian as a nearly immortal and unpredictable matchmaker caused panic to rise up in her chest.
“Hang on,” Michael said. “The sooner we get to the wings the better.”
Her body was pressed against the buttery leather by their momentum as the Firebird sped from the hotel parking lot. Her head grew light and her palms pressed against her hollow belly as her stomach dropped. Michael drove down the Arizona highway with a hound of hell literally at his bumper urging him on.
But would her task be over once they retrieved Lucifer’s wings? She was afraid that leading Michael to heaven was only the beginning of her torment.
Ezekiel had said the palace had been built for her. She was used to the temporal tricks and treats of the hell dimension, where time was amorphous and seemingly unrelated to time on earth. The palace had seemed ancient and always. Built long before she’d been born.
Just as the kachina doll had been carved before Michael was born.
Ezekiel was older than the palace. And too knowing by far.
Had he forged the deal with her father to procure her as a future queen for his reluctant heir?
* * *
Michael tried to focus on the physicality of driving the vintage sports car down the long, desert highway. It was usually a pleasure. Collecting vintage cars throughout his prolonged life had been one of Adam Turov’s hobbies. Michael had learned to love them at his stepfather’s side, just as he’d learned to help with the running of Nightingale Vineyards.
It was more convenient to travel with Grim’s ability. But driving wasn’t about convenience. It was about controlling his own momentum and direction. He liked the feel of the steering wheel in hands.
While he’d learned about the vines and his stepfather’s cars, he’d also been learning to control his Brimstone. It could be deadly. His scars proved how closely his own blood had come to taking his life.
Sitting beside Lily in the Firebird brought back memories of that first Burn. That’s why he’d had the nightmare the night before.
But he couldn’t deny there was a seductive, pleasurable edge to the heat when it rose in response to Lily’s affinity. It was a new edge. One he hadn’t had to deal with before. One that urged him to burn in spite of all the years he’d spent controlling the fire.
He looked down at the skin that showed below the cuffs of his jacket again and again. The scars were faint there, covered slightly by a fine dusting of golden brown hair, but he knew them. He had memorized their patterns for years as a meditation against losing control.
He didn’t want to lose control of his Brimstone blood ever again. But he did desire the woman beside him. As he’d never desired another woman before. It wasn’t only her affinity. Yes. That pull was powerful. His grip on the steering wheel was far tighter than it would have to be to keep the car on the road. And, yet, her affinity was only a small part of her allure.
She was determined and powerful and strong, but she was also in trouble. The instinct to protect her from hungry Rogues burned in him in ways that took him by surprise.
He needed her help to find the wings, but she needed his help to survive the Rogues who would never rest in hunting her down. He didn’t burn for Lily only because of his Brimstone blood. He burned for her because he had heard about that ceaseless hunt from his mother and aunt his whole life, but actually seeing a woman hounded and harried by Rogues set him on fire in ways that had nothing to do with his daemon blood.
He wanted to help her escape her tormentors, but he also wanted her to know he would never be one of them. He wasn’t a slave to his blood or the hunger for affinity it could cause in him if he lost control. He could sense her attraction to him. As the highway rolled by beneath them, she focused on the view outside the window, but he noticed the rise and fall of her chest, the flush on her cheeks, the fidgeting of her restless fingers. He didn’t know if it was the same for her. If it was only his Brimstone blood that called to her or the hint of affinity he’d inherited from his mother, but whatever her reasons for desiring him...if and when they came together...it would be a conscious decision on his part. He wouldn’t lose control.
He turned to look at her when he came to that decision and she tilted her head to meet his gaze at the same moment. The connection was there. No doubt. Her affinity stoked his burn. But there were other connections as well. Her determination and strength. Her humor in the face of danger. The glint of sun on her hair, the grace in her fight, the warmth in her brown eyes. He would want her if she weren’t Samuel’s daughter. Of that he was certain. He just wasn’t sure if she’d ever believe it. She’d probably had to run and hide from hungry Rogues her whole life. But he was determined whatever they had wouldn’t be ruled by Brimstone.
* * *
They saw the black sedans parked to block the highway long before there was no turning back. Like a wavering mirage of oily obstruction, the Rogue blockade shimmered in the noonday heat.
Nevertheless, Michael didn’t turn around. He didn’t veer off into the desert sand. Her real life warrior angel gripped the gearshift and Lily made the decision to place her hand over his as he shifted down to reduce the Firebird’s speed.
He glanced from her face down to their hands.
The Rogues were following them, and others blocked their path. A touch no longer seemed to matter and yet it mattered so much she couldn’t resist. His hand was tense and warm beneath her fingers. He had freshened the tape over the pads his constant playing wouldn’t allow to heal. The vibrations of the car transferred through the gearshift and his palm to the back of his hand, then to her. The Firebird growled, its motor protesting the reduction of speed.
“We can’t fight so many,” Lily said. Dozens of daemons had exited the cars at their approach. In the rearview mirror more black vehicles came into view. Long black SUVs looking mean and lethal even with the tinted windows that hid their hungry occupants. The convoy behind them drove side-by-side three across, paying no heed to traffic laws or markings on the highway.
They were trapped. They had been from the start.
“Watch me. Fighting is as much a part of my heritage as wine and song,” Michael said.
“And Brimstone blood,” Lily whispered.
He didn’t agree. He didn’t have to. The heat rising from his body gave him away. The car slowed to a stop. They were a hundred yards from the blockade. The SUVs were closing in from behind.
“Stay in the car,” Michael ordered. He sounded like a future king.
Grim had materialized. He stood by the car waiting for his master.
“I’m not safe in the car. Nowhere is safe for me,” Lily said. Except maybe Ezekiel’s palace, but she kept that thought to herself. She opened the door and got out before Michael could try to stop her. She wasn’t hiding anymore.
Her sword came easily from its place in her pack. She quickly drew it and shrugged the backpack over her shoulders. She didn’t bother to close the car door. Michael had also left his door open. The Firebird sat in the middle of the highway with its “wings” ineffectually spread. She might never get the chance to “fly” in it again. But at least she had. She had flown. Refuge wasn’t everything. Home, for her, had always been elusive. A lie.
She was a tool. That’s all she’d ever been. She could fight that or accept it. Her chest swelled as she gulped a big breath of bracing air. Ezekiel might want her to marry his heir. And she might never fulfill that wish. But she could be the best ward she could possibly be.
Her mother had wanted Lily to stop the Rogues for the daemon king. Sophia hadn’t intended her daughter to do it with arm-to-arm combat. Sometimes the best intentions dissolved into necessity. Her father had prepared her for that. His sword felt balanced and deadly in her hands.
“I’ve resisted your call because I had to, not because I wanted to,” Michael said as they turned to face in opposite directions. The SUVs had stopped and more Rogues than she’d thought could fit in the vehicles exited. Slowly. They were obviously savoring their triumph. “I’ve always hated the Brimstone in my blood. You make it very hard not to celebrate it.”
Lily froze. She didn’t look at him. But her whole body stilled in response to his declaration. He wanted her. What’s more, he wanted to want her. They prepared for death, but she suddenly felt more alive than she’d ever been.
“These bastards want your affinity. They want Ezekiel’s throne. I just want you. I need you to know it isn’t affinity or my Brimstone. I’ve resisted its burn my whole life,” Michael said. “I don’t want to resist you.”
“Now you tell me,” Lily replied.
But she didn’t believe him. She’d been a prisoner of her affinity her entire life because others couldn’t or wouldn’t control its effect on them. She wanted to believe that Michael was different, but that want was a weakness she couldn’t afford.
Grim whined and shifted from Michael’s side to hers in a swirl of disembodied smoke. He stood between her and the closest approaching daemon. The protective act caused tears to fill her eyes. He might not trust her, but he placed his intimidating body in harm’s way for her after his master’s declaration. The ferocity of his love for Michael caused her heart to ache in an echo of the same emotion. Even if they survived, she couldn’t allow herself to love her warrior angel. Not when he would surely hate her once he knew Ezekiel planned to use her to tempt Michael to the throne.
“I’ll show you when this is over. Count on it,” Michael said.
She had no time to respond. Not to argue or throw herself in his arms. Suddenly, Michael and Grim exploded into action and she was left holding her sword and standing alone. Grim fought in an ever-widening circle around her. His terrible jaw crunched again and again and the air was filled with Rogue screams. But while he protected her, Michael was left to fight alone. Lily watched him bleed as daemon blades bit into him again and again. She was trapped by the smoky vapor of Grim’s wake and the bodies and blood that fell all around. Before she could escape the circle a wall of fallen Rogue bodies prevented her from reaching Michael’s side.
Once again she was enclosed and protected while others died.
Lily dropped to her knees. But she wasn’t giving up. She allowed her father’s sword to clank to the ground so that she could take the pack from her back. Her fingers fumbled with the wrappings, but long hours of practice saved her.
This time she unwrapped them all.
Earth, Wind, Fire, Water...and the tiny black-winged angel.
She placed them in position and wasn’t surprised when the warrior angel claimed a place in the center of them all. Her flute came from its velvet pouch and she brought it to her lips in a move that seemed to take an eternity. Grim had howled in pain multiple times now. Many daemons had fallen, but there were too many for one hellhound to fight alone.
Michael was nowhere to be seen beyond the smoke. It wasn’t only smoke from Grim’s rapid materializations. His wounds smoked, and the bodies of fallen daemons smoked as well. The burned smell of wounded flesh and Brimstone filled the air. Her affinity had been shocked into paralysis, but the second her shaky breath brought forth the first note from the flute against her lips, the rush of it filled her body from the heart out. Blood pumped and the affinity rode it as well as her song until she vibrated with a music that daemons could hear above all else, even their own screams.
She thought she heard her name. She played on. She didn’t pause. She summoned the elemental spirits that she’d been able to hear since she was born. To many they were only tradition. To her they were real.
Wind whipped her hair and her clothes and whirled smoke and sand into her eyes. She didn’t close them. She tried to squint through the sulfuric smoke to find Michael. A storm coalesced around her and droplets of moisture fell. The earth trembled beneath her knees.
But it was Fire that saved them.
The ring of Rogue bodies piled around her burst into flames. Grim leaped over the ring of fire and disappeared. She knew he would reappear to fight by Michael’s side. But would it be too late? The daemon king would never forgive her if she allowed his heir to die. Her heart thumped a more tragic reason to fear his death.
She would never be his queen. Not through manipulation. Not when he’d told her that he wanted to want her in spite of the Brimstone and not because of it. But she needed him to live for reasons other than Ezekiel’s throne. Rivulets of water ran down her face, cooling the heat of the fire that consumed the Rogue daemons around her. The warrior angel kachina stood silently. Her flute didn’t call it to life.
Lily wasn’t sure if offering her as a bride was part of Ezekiel’s plan, but she would give Michael up before she’d force him to...
The tiny kachina doll in the center of her elemental spirits toppled over and Lily gasped. Her song was broken just as her lungs had begun to be scorched from acrid smoke.
A howl like none before it rent the air. Lily’s head went light and her stomach clenched in fear. There had been too many daemons. Michael had been right. Even with the power of her elemental spirit’s fire amplified by Brimstone, they had lost.