Chapter Thirty-One

 

Blaize landed with grace born of his kind, his dark wings so black they glistened with a blue sheen from the overhead lights. His god-like features were only marred by the scowl he wore, and even then his good looks didn’t diminish. “Are you ready?” he growled, fangs bared.

Lucca nodded. “If it is any consolation, relying on your help isn’t considered my night of fun either. I wouldn’t involve you if the elders hadn’t bound my wings.”

Blaize shook his head. “That’s the problem with you, Watchers, you think you can handle anything that comes your way. Loners, the lot of you. This job is a two man gig, especially if you don’t know what the hell to expect.”

He snorted. “And the Darklins have oodles of friends. Makes me all warm and cozy inside thinking about it.”

Blaize’s eyes glowed red, blocking out the violet. “Shut up and take my hand.”

Lucca grabbed his outstretched hand in a firm grip.

“Don’t think we’re going steady,” Blaize grumbled, shimmering with a surge of magic that encased them both.

One minute they were standing in the park around the corner from his apartment, and the next they crossed the veil to the Otherworldly realm where Angel, Darklins, and other preternatural roamed. The world stood adjacent to the human realm where the humans couldn’t see it or breach it without glamour.

The only time preternatural beings may roam the earth’s realm without glamour was during the times the veil thinned between the worlds. Like during Ol’ Hallows Eve on October thirty-first and Yule, the traditional time being in December not January as most humans thought. These dates are for the preternatural beings, giving them freedom to reveal their true self without consequences.

Lucca had preferred to spend his time in the Otherworldly realm when he hadn’t been forced to watch and record human events. The Grigori were meant to keep track of history in the human realm, but with Eli breaking the rules and falling for a human, the Grigori were rethinking their existence. Since Lucca had been left out of the loop since his banishment, he didn’t have details until his impromptu meeting with Eli. Who would have thought the one Watcher who had every reason not to trust him had offered the olive branch—well, so to speak. He didn’t expect to become all warm and cozy with the Watcher anytime soon, but they had formed a truce for now.

The elders believed the Watchers did possess souls after all. The discovery proved a big deal, especially when the Nephilim had always been considered damned. They had a chance for happiness if they found their soul mate to lift the chains that kept their souls buried. Yada, yada, yada.

The whole ordeal made Lucca’s stomach churn and not in a completely bad way. His talk with Eli only proved to worry him more. Eli confessed Ryden’s scent drew him. Apparently the soul mate’s essence is only potent to the Nephilim meant for her or him, which ever the case may be. It all sounded vaguely familiar.

‘You’ll want to mark her, make her yours, the feeling will be so strong, common sense evades you,’ Eli told him.

He could contest to the out of control response. Just another problem he had to deal with as if he didn’t already have enough on his plate. He couldn’t defend himself without his wings. How could he defend a mate and keep her safe? His mate didn’t come unattached either. He would be responsible for Owen’s safety, too.

He needed his wings. Now.

True his banishment would end if the elders believed he had changed, that he had embraced his human side with respect. His path was in the right direction, but the elders wouldn’t just overturn his punishment because he said he’d changed. They would want proof and that would take too damn long. His father was out there and he was in league with something vile. He couldn’t wait to go through the right channels. He’d get the Book of Magic and give it to Barachiel in exchange for his wings.

Lucca glanced around, seeing his realm in a new light. The Otherworldly realm didn’t look much different than the human realm other than the architecture spoke of a time past. Castles, pyramids, and pantheons made up their cities coexisting with each other like planned neighborhoods of historical finds. Time past differently here, too. They could spend hours here, while days passed in the human realm. It was why preternatural life spans were so much longer than humans. They may be able to live on the human plane of existence, but their bodies ticked off time on the Otherworldly plane.

Blaize had shimmered them in front of the Temple of Moqaddas where Raziel’s Book of Magic lay locked in the Vault situated in the underground cave below the temple. He’d look for The Tomes of Nasarm, while he was nosing around in the Vault, too. Not that he planned on handing the tome over to the Hashasheens, but a least he’d have it in his possession if Kordon came gunning for him again. It was always wise to have bargaining tools at your disposal.

Lucca glanced at Blaize. The Darklin would use his expertise of breaking and entering. The preternatural didn’t call him the Legend of Stealth for nothing.

Lucca had been with Arizul the day he placed the Book of Magic in the Vault. Lucca was no more than seven earth years at the time, but he understood the importance of the tome. His father blathered on how Adam and Eve once possessed the tome. They passed the knowledge of the book to their children. Noah used the book to build the Ark and King Solomon used the book as a reference when he wrote the Key of Solomon. Solomon’s book contained convocation and curses to summon spirits of the dead and demons, forcing them to do the conjurers bidding.

How his father came by Raziel’s Book, Lucca didn’t know, but the tome was one book among many his father had collected and locked away in his treasure room.

Arizul took Lucca to the Vault on two other occasions. On the third visit, he memorized the intricate passageway to the Vault. The chamber lay hidden behind a bolted door, his father having the only key. At the time, Lucca hadn’t realized the knowledge of the passageway would come in handy. It also helped that he stolen the key after his father had Kit Marlowe killed. He wanted to hurt the bastard and he knew his father would be devastated when he learned he no longer had access to his treasures. “Events do happen for a reason.”

“What did you say?” Blaize looked over his shoulder at him.

Lucca shook his head. “Nothing. Just find us a way in.

“There’s no place I cannot enter,” the Darklin boasted. They both knew the claim could be backed up with proof.

It didn’t mean Lucca couldn’t rib Blaize anyway. “You boast, but I’ve yet to see this profound ability.”

Blaize harrumphed with a curse. He obviously didn’t like his abilities left in question. Good. He would work harder to find a way in.

The temple rose skyward, a marble structure with columns. The steps were also gleaming white marble and at the top of the platform on the right stood a relief carving of the story of David and Goliath. Goliath had been one of the Nephilim, a giant among men. It was a humble reminder that no being is invincible. On the other side there stood a relief of Enoch’s anointing and investiture during his ascension into heaven. Enoch had been the only human known to become an Angel. Lucca and Blaize entered through the ornate doors carved from gold inlays. They made their way past the ancient scrolls set out on display. Blaize kept them shielded from prying eyes. His ability to camouflage and shimmer from one place to the other, made it difficult for preternatural authorities to apprehend him.

“Where to?” Blaize looked over his shoulder, his gaze leveling on Lucca.

Lucca pointed to where a large rock molded into the wall as if the temple backed up to a cave and the rock marked the original entrance. Maybe at one time it was true, but Lucca only knew of the temple and not what was there before.

“Are you friggin’ kidding me?” Blaize narrowed his eyes at him.

Lucca didn’t answer but moved forward. His hand rested on the cold stone, sliding his fingers over the crevice on the right side adjacent to the wall.

“There’s a hidden lever?” Blaize asked. He glanced over his shoulder as Lucca worked, watching the Grigori guards at the front desk. The guards’ wings were tuck beside their bodies in a relaxed state. They didn’t suspect a breach.

“Yes.” Lucca met Blaize’s gaze. “Be ready to use your mojo. A rock sliding open like Jesus’ tomb will draw unwanted attention.”

Blaize nodded and grinned at the Biblical reference. “Already covered. Your winged buddies will see nothing.”

Lucca flicked the switch. The heady weight of Blaize’s magic expanded around them, cushioning their every move. The rock creaked in protest like a giant poked awake after a long rest. Blaize helped him ease the rock open just enough for both of them to slip in.

Lucca glanced at the opening. He didn’t want to chance closing the rock and being trapped inside, but he didn’t want the guards to see the opening either. He looked to Blaize. “Will your powers work to shield the opening even as we take the path down below?”

“If you continue to insult me, I’ll leave you in here to rot.” Blaize snapped his hand and two torches appeared in his hands. He shoved one at Lucca before turning to light the oil trenches mounted to the walls of the cave. The trenches stretched from one end of the cave to the other. One touch of the flame and the oil came alive, fire surging forward lighting the path before them. Lucca did the same on his side of the cave.

“This is child’s play.” Blaize grinned. He snapped his fingers and the torches disappeared. He moved past Lucca, going down the only corridor. The tunnel had been dug out by hand and the fine powered dirt layered the floor and walls.

“As much as it wouldn’t pain me to see you run through,” sarcasm laced Lucca’s words, “perhaps, you would like to slow down so not to trip the hidden levers.”

Blaize halted and whirled around to glare. “This is a maze with hidden traps?

Lucca took the lead. “Of course,” he threw over his shoulder. “Did you really think you could waltz right in here?”

“You Fallen are a sick lot, you know that don’t you?”

“And Darklins aren’t?” Lucca took cautious steps, looking for the trigger piece on the ground.

“No, they are, too,” Blaize said.

Lucca let out a short laugh and shook his head. His pace slowed, spotting the first of the traps. A fine wire a half an inch above the ground was pulled taut and stretched across the path with the intent to trip the intruder, setting the wheels in motion. To the right of him, his gaze traveled over the rock corridor’s wall, remembering his father’s words: Trip the wire and a blade will swing down to cut you in half. He looked back at Blaize, who stared at him with a raised brow. Lucca pointed to the wire and then to the wall where there was evidence of a false cover.

Lucca stepped over the wire and Blaize followed his steps. “One down, eight more to go,” Lucca told him.

“Splendid.”

“Just think you could write a song about your adventure. Isn’t that what you musicians do, write lyrics depicting life?” Lucca asked, actually half curious.

“I express my thoughts and if something happens in my life worthy of mention, I put the story to music.”

“How special,” Lucca’s words dripped with sweet sarcasm, but he actually owned two of Blaize’s CDs. The Darklin had a talent.

“Trust me, our adventure down here isn’t worth my time to write about.”

Lucca snorted. “Have it your way.” He halted, his arm swinging up and across to keep Blaize back.

“What now?” Blaize didn’t bother to restrain his irritation.

“We have to step carefully on the blocks.” He pointed to the different color stones, lining the ground.

“Or what? Poison arrows will shoot from the walls?”

Lucca met Blaize’s gaze. “Yes.” He turned away, his lips twitching at the corners at Blaize’s slacked-jaw look of surprise.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. Did the Fallen watch too many Raiders of the Lost Ark? Who does this crap?”

“These precautions were set in place long before the human film came to be. Make sure you follow exactly where I step,” Lucca warned as he headed forward, ignoring Blaize’s curses. The lighter gray, were the stones to step on. Any other would be disastrous.

“I could be home right now in bed with one of the red-headed twins. Their perky—”

“Do you mind?” Lucca threw over his shoulder. “I have no wish to know of your sordid deeds.”

“Whoa ho, didn’t know you were going for Saint of the Year award. I thought you Fallen could get it on now.” He chewed on his lower lip and grunted, while his fisted hands grinded forward and his hips jutted forward in a suggestive manner.

Lucca rolled his eyes. “Get it on? Finding a soul mate has nothing to do with what you’re suggesting.”

“Really?” His dark brows rose. “Last I checked relationships also involved sex.”

“Not the kind of sex you’re into.”

“So you do remember what I’m into?”

Lucca whirled on him, wanting to wipe the grin off Blaize’s face. “Will you shut the—” A rumbling beneath their feet halted his words.

Blaize’s eyes widened as he looked for the threat, his hand automatically going for his dagger.

“Your feet,” Lucca pointed.

Blaize looked down. His one foot was planted on the gray, but the other one stood partially on the stone layered with fine red powder. “Oh bite me,” Blaize groaned.

The floor gave away beneath his feet like a trap door. Lucca’s hand whipped out, grabbing Blaize’s arm before he fell to whatever doomed fate awaited him below in the opened earth. “Dammit, I told you to follow where I stepped.” He grunted as he yanked Blaize over the edge of the pit and onto solid ground, both of them falling backwards. Blaize landed on top of him, but rolled away quickly.

Blaize glared at Lucca. “I was following your steps, but you had to stop and vent.”

Lucca opened his mouth for another retort, but the earth shook again. Curses flew from his mouth as he jumped to his feet and sprinted forward. “Run!”

Blaize didn’t have to be told twice as he jetted after Lucca. “What about where we’re stepping.”

“Too late for that. Keep your head down.”

Spsst sppst…thunck.

The sound of arrows whizzed by their heads slamming into the walls as they ducked and ran, the ground grumbling beneath them as they went. It was sliding to the right. The path become smaller and smaller as the floor slid into the cave’s wall.

Lucca hadn’t remembered Arizul telling him the floor would slide away.

The last few yards they had to jump and roll to safety at the end of the stone path where a smooth dirt ledge began the next part of the path. Gravel spun off their heels, raining down to its finality in the pit below. The earth ceased to move and the only sound was their labored breathing.

Lucca stood resting his hands on his knees as he leaned down to catch his breath. Blaize braved a peek over the edge to look down into the pit. Spikes poked up from the ground as a welcoming mat to whoever stepped wrong.

“I’ll say it again. The Fallen are sick bastards.”

“More like my father is the demented perpetrator you want to curse.”

Blaize turned his attention on Lucca. “Arizul designed all this?”

“Yes. He created this delightful maze. What can I say; he’s a prince among the deranged.” He didn’t wait for Blaize to make an offhanded remark, but continued down the next hallway.

Blaize kept pace with him. “I can relate to deranged relatives. I have no complaints with my father, but if you recall, my uncle was a down right bastard. He did his best to make Sarice’s and my life miserable. Seems we have something in common in that case.”

Lucca’s gaze riveted to him.

Blaize shook his head and chuckled. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to sing Kumbayah and pick out towels for us to move in together. So relax.”

Lucca grunted, his lips pressing together in a fine line as he kept heading forward. The passageway led them on a downward path where the air became thicker. The temperature raised a few notches too, making the confined area feel like a sauna. “Not much farther.” Lucca pointed at the door at the end of the pathway.

“Finally,” Blaize swiped his brow, brushing away long dark strands out of his eyes.

They took the final steps separating them from the door. Blaize’s hand gripped Lucca’s shoulder. “What are you doing,” Lucca demanded, shrugging out of his grip.

“Shimmering us inside.”

“Eegit, the Vault is spellbound,” he pointed to the etched carvings around the door that looked like ancient Celtic symbols. “You could only shimmer in and out of the Vault if the door stood open.”

Blaize held up his hands in mock surrender. “Excuse me. Didn’t know we were dealing with spells, too, but why am I not surprised? Do you mean open sesame doesn’t work here?”

Lucca ignored him and reached into his pants pocket, pulling out the iron key containing intricate cuts to define the teeth. When he lifted the key from his father, he left a fake in its wake. The replica was perfect down to the filigree on the handle. His father would see the fake key on the mantle and not suspect it as anything but the original—well, until he tried to use it. He wished he could have been here when that happened just to see Arizul’s face as he realized Lucca bested him for once.

He inserted the key into the lock and recited the ancient words only the Angels knew. The language sounded strangely like music, highs and lows of a singsong melody. The door glowed brighter with each word until it shone like a beacon radiating light. Surprisingly, the door remained cool to the touch. His hand turned the key.

Click.

The sound was deafening in the quiet surrounding them. Lucca turned the handle and pushed the door open. The hinges groaned against the intrusion, indicating no one had been down here for a long time. Air whooshed out like a ghost freed from its confines, blasting Lucca’s hair away from his face. The room sat in darkness and Blaize snapped his fingers and a torch popped into his hand. There were oil-based sconces waiting to be lit and Blaize did the honors, lighting the six sconces mounted on the walls.

The Vault contained a conglomerate of ancient artifacts, books, and trinkets of every sort, glittery to the mundane.

“Why do you need the book?” Blaize finally asked, making Lucca wonder why it had taken the Darklin so long to ask.

“It’s none of your business.” Lucca strode over to the ornate desk of marble and gold and began rummaging through the drawers.

“I think I’ve earned the right to know.” Blaize met his gaze, refusing to back down. “If I’ve risked my reputation on this heist, I want to know what I’ve gotten myself into. The book is pretty powerful mojo with the written work of an Archangel who spent time at God’s side. You aren’t planning to try and open a portal are you?”

“And where would I go?” Lucca grumbled, wishing Blaize would learn to shut his trap. The male never knew when to shut up, always harping. In that regard, he reminded him of Gideon.

Blaize lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “Where couldn’t you go? The book would bring in a pretty penny if we sold it on the black market.”

“There’s no we in this. The book’s not for me anyway.”

“No?” His brows lifted in surprise. “You risked your life… and mine for someone else. Why’s that?”

Lucca didn’t answer and Blaize’s hand gripped his arm, pulling him to a halt. “Why?”

“I had a little visit from the Archangel Barachiel and made a deal to get my wings back. It seems Raziel went rogue on them and they need the book.”

“An Archangel going rogue? Are you sure?”

Lucca nodded. “Raziel opened a portal and sent a couple of humans through it.”

Blaize’s dark brows drew together over the fine planes of his nose. “Why would Raziel do such a thing?”

“How should I know?” He walked over to the bookshelf, scanning the rows for the books. He tried to shut out Blaize’s continued blathering, but having a six-four Darklin breathing down his back proved too annoying to ignore. His excessive gabbing made his ears ring. He was worse than Gideon with his endless questions.

“If Raziel helped these two humans it must be for a good cause,” Blaize insisted.

“There is no cause great enough to alter history. If Raziel sent the humans through time, he’s changed something that should not have been altered,” Lucca grumbled.

“You know what the Archangels will do once they find the humans, don’t you?”

“Don’t care,” Lucca voiced, but his words sounded hollow even to his own ears. He didn’t want to care. He didn’t want to know anything about whom the Archangels hunted. He needed to trade the book for his wings. He needed his glamour to keep Juliet and Owen safe from his father. He glanced at his arm where a faint tattoo glowed, the stamp where Barachiel bonded with him. He wondered if the Archangel could track him here to the Vault.

“You should care. They’ll be—”

He whirled on Blaize. “Get it through your thick skull. I don’t.”

Blaize held up his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, and I thought we bonded. My bad. Do what you got to do. It’s your conscience.” His hand brushed over a gold carved box, wiping away the dust.

One… two. Lucca counted under his breath, knowing Blaize wasn’t through. Three…four…five…

“As long as you can live—”

Lucca knew he wouldn’t disappoint him.

“—with the fact they’ll eliminate the humans, then by all means hand over the book.”

“I thought I said I didn’t care.”

“I’m saying it anyway. Raziel thought it was worth hiding the humans. I would want to find out what these humans know before the big A takes them out.

“Good thing I’m not you then. Give it a rest, Blaize.”

Blaize leaned against the bookcase with his arms crossed over his chest. “Trust me, I don’t give a crap about what goes down with the Archangels, but it really pisses me off when they go after beings who can’t defend themselves.”

Lucca paused, his hand on one of the books. He shoved it back into place on the shelf as he leveled his gaze on Blaize. “Who would have known the great Dark Angel has a bleeding heart.”

“Yeah, well, we all have a heart. It’s what we choose to do with it that tells us what it’s worth.”

Lucca stared at him in disbelief. Blaize was a Darklin, a Dark Angel, which made him half demon, half angel and neither being was prone to care about humans in the capacity Blaize was suggesting. “What do you propose I do? Raise my broadsword and take on Barachiel?”

Blaize looked away. The muscles in his jawline working as he clenched and unclenched his teeth.

“Good Lord, you do want me to pick up a sword. Barachiel is the Archangel of Lightning. He’d blast my arse to hell and back before I could swing the damn weapon, or have you forgotten my wings are bound?”

Blaize looked at him, not unsympathetically. “You have your brethren to back you up.”

Lucca chortled with snort of disbelief. “The brethren are who bound my wings. They would probably be relieved if Barachiel took me out.” He shook his head and returned to his search. If he didn’t find the Book of Magic, he was doomed no matter what. He doubted Barachiel would appreciate a good attempt at finding the book and call it a day. He either showed up with what Barachiel wanted or he was looking at a nice toasty ending. That is if Kordon didn’t get to him first or his father.

He could feel Blaize’s heated gaze on him. He didn’t need a conscience right now. Not with demons and Archangels breathing down his back, wanting something from him. He didn’t trust either preternatural being, but he was on his own. His brethren tossed him out. Just because he had a nice sit down with Eli, it didn’t mean the Watchers were going to welcome him back into the fold with open arms.

Besides, he had no plans of just handing over either book without a concrete plan. Archangels and the Hashasheens had the tendency to clean up loose ends and he had a hunch he was going to be one of them.

“What’s your interest in the humans anyway?” Lucca shouldn’t ask, but his tongue never minded its own business.

“What if Raziel hid the humans because he cares for one of them or perhaps both?”

Lucca’s gaze riveted to him. “What are you saying? Do you think an Archangel can have feelings toward a human? Fall in love with one?”

He lifted his shoulder in a shrug. “Why not? The Watchers have proven it possible.”

He let out a loose breath in disbelief. “Your uncle was a pure blood Angel. Was he all warm and cozy with you?”

Blaize looked him over, his brows furrowing over the bridge of his nose. “Just because your father and my uncle were right pricks, doesn’t mean all Angels are.”

Lucca looked away, his hand balled into a fist. “My father didn’t have a compassionate bone in his body.” His fangs lengthened as thoughts of his father resurfaced. “He could give Lucifer a few pointers on breaking someone’s…”

“Soul,” Blaize finished and Lucca met his gaze.

Lucca battled with his emotions, his eyes watering with frustration and betrayal for what he endured at the hand of his father, but he wouldn’t let the emotions spill out. “We. Do. Not. Have. A. Soul,” he bit out each word. Screw what Eli thought or what the elders hoped to prove.

Blaize shook his head. “I think you’re wrong. Some just choose to ignore it. I have demon blood in me and there are times the aggressive side of me wants to lash out without care, but my mother taught me how to control those urges.” His lips were blade thin as he pursed them together. He looked at Lucca with a heavy sigh.

Lucca groaned. Even after all these centuries he knew the look. Blaize was going to continue his heart to heart. It must be the poet in him. He did have hit ballads on the airways. “You asked about my father,” Blaize said. “Yes, he was an Angel and he cared for my sister and me. He loved us and he loved my mother.”

Lucca shook his head. He didn’t want to hear it. “Stop.”

“My father knew your father?”

He narrowed his eyes on him. “I said I didn’t want to hear any more.”

“My father was the physician who treated you after Arizul nearly beat you to death.”

Lucca backed away shaking his head. “You lie.” But he did know. The first few days after the beating he’d been in and out of consciousness. He was vaguely aware of a male, his kindness and hopeful words, but when he finally awakened he was in the care of another. The new doctor hadn’t been unkind, but he knew it wasn’t the male who encouraged him to live.

“I’m not lying. You should have heard my father after he saw what had been done to you. He wanted to kill Arizul.”

Tears burned Lucca’s eyes as he sunk down to the ground, but the tears were of anger not of self-pity. “Why didn’t he?”

Blaize walked over to him and knelt down beside him. “Because the Grigori would have retaliated. They would have come after us. My father couldn’t risk it. The Grigori frowned upon demon and Angel marriages and they would use any excuse to eliminate them.”

Lucca knew the Grigori’s thoughts of mixed marriages with demons, but the knowledge didn’t excuse Blaize’s father. Blaize’s father knew what had been done to him, must have known what he endured, but the good doctor just nursed him back to health and sent him home for more abuse.

“My father couldn’t take you away, but he did manage to pass a law through the right channels, forbidding the Fallen from abusing their offspring. If caught using excessive force, it was punishable by death. The elders agreed to it after…”

Lucca glared at him. “After what?” he snapped.

“After they saw the visual imprints my father took of you.”

His raw chuckle made Blaize flinch. “My humiliation is complete or is there more you’d like to share with me.” He rose to his feet in one fluid move.

Blaize came to his feet, too. “My father saved your life.”

“You think so?” What Blaize claimed rang true, but how could Lucca forgive them for handing him back to Arizul. “My father just didn’t beat me to a bloody pulp, you know. Mental abuse can be more damaging than physical blows. Life with my father was a living hell,” he growled, his fangs biting into his lips. “You just confessed your father and the rest of the Grigori left me in hell.”

Blaize had the decency to look abashed. “What happened to you sucked.”

Lucca hissed his harrumph, ending it with a growl, warning Blaize he had met his limit of control. What Blaize said now would determine if this conversation ended with fists.

Blaize met his gaze again. Lucca had to give him credit. The Darklin didn’t flinch or back down. “You’re a better male than your father, but you have to believe it. All I’m saying is find out who the humans are before you serve them up on a platter.”

A better male than his father, isn’t that what he’d been trying to be since he broke free of him? Better, didn’t mean he had to befriend humans and worry about their demise. He survived by never becoming too close to a human. Becoming close caused heartache and he didn’t need or want it. “I haven’t harmed anyone who didn’t deserve to be pummeled.” Eli didn’t count since at the time he had believed his actions were justified. It all worked itself out in the end anyway. “Humans die.” He met Blaize’s gaze. "They’re a weaker species. What do I care if they live fifty years or a few days? Let the Archangels do what they want. I’m staying out of their business.”

“You were friends with Will. You were friends with Kit.” Blaize just couldn’t let it go.

He inhaled deeply, drawing in a rugged breath. “Yeah, a waste of my time.”

Blaize swore under his breath. “That’s why you dragged me down to the pub that night to try and save Kit.”

He whirled on him. “Kit Marlowe didn’t know when to keep his mouth shut. Obviously, he had something in common with you. I’ll have to remember that flaw the next time I feel inclined to choose a—” The word he was about to spew lodged in his throat.

“Say it,” Blaize demanded. “Say it. Friend. You were going to say friend. Kit Marlowe was your friend. That’s what friends do, they look out for one another, and you try to save them when they’re too stupid to realize the danger. You wanted to save Kit.”

“You don’t know a damn thing.” Lucca pounded his hand into the side of the bookcase. The wood shuddered, the vibration growing louder. “What the…” He backed up a step as the case opened, revealing a hidden compartment. Blaize came to stand by Lucca as he helped pull the case open further. “Bingo,” Lucca said as he stared at the two books he’d been looking for, sitting side by side on a shelf.

“I can maybe understand why the Book of Raziel is hidden well, but why is the Tomes of Nasarm so important?”

Lucca shrugged. “How should I know? I thought we established my father wasn’t the warm and cozy, feely type. He never revealed his reasons for what was kept in the Vault. I’m just glad he chose to keep both books together. Saves me time. Now I can get Kordon off my back, too.”

Blaize shook his head. “You have no problem handing both books over to beings that would sooner see you dead than give you the time of day.”

Lucca shoved him aside, reaching for the books in question. As he lifted them off the shelf, he knew he’d made a mistake. “Shit.” He threw himself at Blaize, sending the Darklin flying backward out of the hidden room as spikes came barreling down like a hailstorm with a deadly aim.

The books flew out of his hands, sliding across the floor, slamming into a vase that tumbled over, rolling down toward the cabinet with the display of weapons. Lucca leapt to his feet with a curse and flung himself toward the vase, grabbing it just inches before it fell against the cabinet. He breathed a sigh of relief and looked up to see Blaize frowning down at him. It was then the pain registered. His gaze landed on the protruding spike in his calf.

Blaize crouched down next to him. “Seriously, what else is booby trapped down here?” His large hand gripped the spike and he yanked out the offensive weapon.

Lucca grimaced, holding back the scream choking him. Blood soaked his jeans and his leg throbbed as if it somehow created its own heartbeat to go with the blinding pain.

Blaize ripped the thick material aside as if it were no more than a paper towel so he could have a look at the damage. He held his hand over the wound, light radiated from his palm, sending warmth throughout his limb.

Blaize’s healing powers were phenomenal, but they hadn’t been enough to save Kit Marlowe that night. They had been too late.

Blaize met his gaze then as if he read his thoughts. “I can’t heal all wounds. You know that.”

Lucca nodded. “I know.” His voice sounded raw like an open wound that wouldn’t heal. “I know,” he said with more meaning this time. He lost a friend that night, but so had Blaize. He never considered Blaize’s loss until now.

He placed the vase down beside him. Blaize stood and offered his hand. Lucca grabbed a hold, allowing Blazie to pull him to a standing position. He stepped gingerly on his foot expecting residual pain, but his leg felt good as new. “Thanks.” And meant it. “We should get out of here before we end up as one of the artifacts.”

“You don’t have to ask me twice.”

Lucca bent down to retrieve the books.

Clap…clap… clap

The slow rhythm of two hands slapping together drew their attention to the door.

“Bloody hell,” Blaize cursed.

Lucca’s body went rigid and he felt the blood drain from his face. “Father?”