On the other side of the spirit line, Cassiel was gone, whisked back to the Eden Gate. And in less than a second, I was transported halfway around the Earth to the United States, to an unnamed location somewhere in North Carolina. It was the only spot in the whole state which still had access to the spirit line.
Even I had no idea where I was. Looking around me, I saw nothing but trees, so I closed my eyes and focused on the sounds of the forest.
Seagulls cawing.
Water crashing against the shore.
The faint sound of a boat’s engine and its bottom slamming against the waves.
I followed the sound through the tree line, up over a sand dune, and down onto the beach. A sign was staked in the ground.
KILL DEVIL HILLS, NC
Private Property
No Trespassing
I laughed really hard. God, the Father, had a wicked sense of humor. Who knew?
In a narrow stretch of the Outer Banks, Kill Devil Hills was directly across the Albemarle Sound from Claymore Worldwide Security, the private army built by my father.
I guess the Father figured any demon wishing harm on my daughter would have to cross Azrael to do it.
A ski boat zoomed across the sound. None of Claymore’s boats were anywhere in sight. I pulled out my phone. Only one bar of service. I opened the map, and my GPS location dot hovered almost directly on top of the coordinates Azrael had sent me.
I tapped his name in my recent call list. The call dropped. I tried to send him a text message, but it wouldn’t go through.
Behind me, the creak of a door caught my ear.
A gray two-story house on stilts was tucked into the tree line three hundred yards up the beach. It had a long dock leading up to a white double-deck porch overlooking the ocean.
A guy wearing khakis and a black polo walked out onto the lower deck and waved for me to join him. I checked the sound again. There was still no sign of the boat, so I started toward the house.
The man came down to the end of the dock to meet me. He was young. Maybe not even old enough to drink. CLAYMORE was embroidered in gold on the front of his shirt.
He stretched out his hand. “You must be Warren.”
“I am.”
“Excellent. We’ve been expecting you.” Craning his neck, he looked behind me. “Did someone escort you through the security gate?”
“No.”
“Did you come through the gate?”
I shook my head.
For a beat, he looked unsure of what else to say.
“And you are?” I asked.
“Sorry. Nash Wright. I’m supposed to tell you that your ride is running late, but to sit tight and they’ll be here soon.”
“Sit?” I looked around the empty dock.
“Come on up to the house. I just made coffee.”
As I followed him up the dock, I noticed a large black box mounted to a tall pole in the trees. It had black rods sticking out of the top. A cell signal jammer. This place was intentionally off the public grid.
He led me through the bottom door into a large kitchen and gestured toward the dining table in front of the bay window. “Make yourself comfortable.”
I dropped my bag onto the floor and pulled out a chair. Then I removed my scabbard and sword before sitting down.
The kid’s eyes doubled, looking at the sword on the table.
“Coffee?” I asked.
He blinked. “Right. One sec.”
When he walked away, I checked my phone again. It auto connected to the Claymore network inside the house. A message popped up from Fury. Running late. Be there soon.
I started to tap out a response, then realized I could only see half the keyboard. “Shit.”
I checked my watch. I’d been on the ground in North Carolina for nineteen minutes. The migraine would be in full force soon.
“Here you are.” He handed me a warm paper cup. “We’ve got cream and sugar if you need it.”
I popped the lid off the cup and let the steam roll out. “Black’s fine. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
I took a long drink of the hot coffee, hoping the caffeine would take the edge off my coming headache. The kid still stared at me. “Yes?” I finally asked.
He awkwardly rocked on his feet. “Who are you?”
“The Angel of Death.”
He laughed. “I could almost believe that.”
Almost?
“You certainly look the part. How’d you get here?”
I pointed up.
“Parachute?”
“Something like that.”
Nash pointed to the sword. “Is that thing real?”
“You ask a lot of questions.”
He shrugged. “We’re behind a locked gate. We don’t get many visitors, and never ones called in by the big guy.”
“Claymore called in my arrival?”
“Yup.” His chest swelled. “Talked to him myself.”
“Congratulations.” I’d talked to Azrael, aka Damon Claymore, that day myself. But somehow I doubted my lecture on playing with electricity would impress the kid.
If anything, it would probably make him ask even more questions, and my head was starting to hurt. The pain began like a dull pinprick about three inches behind my left ear. It was going to be a bad one.
Maybe I should have brought Cassiel.
Nash was still mesmerized by the sword. “Can I see it?”
“No. What is this place?”
“I’m sorry, sir. That information’s classified.”
I laughed over the rim of my coffee. “OK.”
A loud buzzer chimed down the hall, and Nash turned and walked out of the room. When he left, I went into the den, which was centered around more windows overlooking the ocean.
Throw pillows were on the sofa. Magazines were arranged on the coffee table. And a few framed photos were on the mantle.
This was someone’s home.
I walked to the fireplace and picked up a photo. A group shot. Az and his pregnant girlfriend, Adrianne Marx, were in the center. Next to them were Sloan, Nathan, and Iliana. My heart twisted. I ran my thumb over her face.
I put my finger to my ear and called out to the spirit world again. “Iliana?”
No response.
Nash cleared his throat behind me. “You’re not authorized to be in here, sir.”
I put the photo back. “Who lives here, Nash?”
“I’m sorry, but that’s—”
“Classified,” I finished for him. A familiar sound drew me to the window. A faint black dot appeared in the sky with the chk chk chk of a helo’s blades.
Nash stood beside me. “I thought they were sending a boat.”
“So did I.” I drained the last of my coffee and crushed the cup in my hand. Then I handed it to him and walked back to the kitchen.
“What are you doing?” he asked as I reached for my sword.
“My ride’s here.” I put the scabbard across my back.
The helicopter slowed as it neared the beach, turned sideways, and eased onto the ground. It was solid black except for the shiny gold letters down the tail: Claymore.
“But you can’t leave. My boss just called and said I’ll need to open the gate soon for the man himself.”
I blinked. “Damon Claymore?”
“Yeah.” He had a wild smile. “Don’t you want to meet him?”
I chuckled. “Sure. I’d love to.”
In a way, I couldn’t blame the kid. Damon Claymore was the best-kept secret in the billion-dollar company. I’d worked for the man for years before I ever saw his face—and I was his son.
Nash let out a long, deep whistle. He stared over my shoulder out the window. I didn’t need to ask why he sounded so impressed.
“Damn.” He shook his head with awe. “Have you ever seen a woman like that?”
I turned.
“Yes. Yes, I have.”
Fury’s dark hair was braided over one shoulder, and she wore desert-cam fatigue pants, tan boots, and a black tank top cut low in the front. Motherhood had been good to her, softening and plumping all the right parts.
Too bad her curves were the only things soft about her. Allison Fury McGrath’s heart and personality had lethal edges.
“You might wanna wipe the drool off your chin before she gets here, kid. She’s killed men for less.”
His wide eyes turned toward me. “Really?”
I gave a noncommittal shrug.
She walked through the door and took off her sunglasses, looking up at me with her stunning mismatched eyes. One iris was almost black. The other was bright emerald. “Hey. Sorry I’m late.”
“What’s with the bird?” I asked.
“Got to the docks and the boats were gone. Training mission or something.” She slid the temple piece of her sunglasses down the deep crevice behind the scooped neck of her tank top.
The poor kid’s eyes followed.
She held up both middle fingers in front of her breasts. “Eyes up top, Sparky. Or I’ll gouge them out.”
With a frightened jerk, Nash’s head shot upright. “Sorry, ma’am.”
“You ready to go?” she asked me.
“Damon Claymore himself”—I gave a small, excited squeak—“is on his way. Nash, here, thinks we should meet him.”
Fury waved her hands with all the enthusiasm of a kid getting socks for Christmas. “Yay.”
“Is he living here?” I asked her.
“You tell me. I hear from everyone here and in Asheville that he’s been MIA a lot lately.” Fury’s tone suggested I should comment.
But Azrael’s official activities were exactly what I didn’t want to discuss, not with her or anyone else, so I just shrugged.
Fury stared at me.
The buzzer sounded in the kitchen again, this time making me wince.
“You all right?” Fury asked as Nash went to see about the noise as he’d done before.
I touched my temple. “Getting a migraine.”
“Oh.” Then she turned toward me. “Oh.” The second one was full of understanding.
“Yeah. I didn’t really think this through.”
Migraines for angels—and I suspected for humans too—were withdrawal symptoms from the supernatural. The last few times I’d been to Earth, I had traveled either with Reuel or Cassiel. Sometimes others. Their presence was enough to keep the symptoms at bay.
This time, I wouldn’t be so lucky.
“Where’s your lady friend?” Fury asked as if reading my mind.
“Back in Eden. She’ll come if we need her, but she thought it best to sit this one out.”
“Why?” Fury crossed one arm over the other to deepen her cleavage. The move told me she knew exactly why Cassiel hadn’t come.
I didn’t bother with an answer. Instead, I breathed through the pain and focused on anything but the throbbing veins in my skull or the perfect breasts beside me.
After a few minutes, the pain began to subside.
Two car doors slammed outside.
Nash ran back to the living room. “He’s here!” He was trying to contain his excitement but not doing a very good job of it. I grinned, never in my life more thankful for a change in conversation.
But before either of us could speak again, a door past the kitchen swung open, and a force almost as strong as any I’d ever felt on Earth pulled at my attention.
Adrianne lugged a small pink suitcase up the last step. “Oh my god!”
Nash rushed forward. “Let me help you with that, ma’am.”
“Thanks, you’re a doll. First bedroom on the right, down the hall.” She wore dark skinny jeans with a fitted black shirt under some kind of floral smock.
My eyes fell to her swollen belly as Nash took off as directed.
Adrianne turned back toward the stairs behind her. “Damon, don’t forget my body pillow in the trunk!”
He shouted something back that spawned an argument, but I’d stopped listening.
Fury touched my arm. “My god, do you feel that?”
I nodded. “The fetus is viable.”
“How far along is she?”
“Far enough.”
“Still have a migraine?”
I shook my head slowly, realizing the pain was gone.
Fury’s fingernails dug into my skin. “What is that thing?”
“Warren! I didn’t even see you!” Adrianne turned, her tone flipping from annoyed to elated with dizzying speed. “Come here and give me a hug!”
“Hi, Adrianne.” As we embraced, supernatural energy from inside her made my head spin. But I had to ignore it. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I might pop.” She took a step back and put both hands on the sides of her belly. “Your little brother likes doing somersaults.”
He wasn’t my little brother.
“I’m happy for you,” I lied.
“Thank you.” Her eyes dimmed when they fell on Fury beside me. “Hello.”
Had I not been so worried, I might have found her reaction amusing. Sloan and I hadn’t been together in ages, and she was happily married to someone else. Still, as Sloan’s loyal best friend, Adrianne hated Fury.
Fury said nothing snarky back, meaning she was just as concerned as I was.
Azrael appeared in the doorway behind Adrianne. Our eyes locked, and I widened mine to let him know Adrianne’s condition was glaringly obvious.
He had a small duffel bag in one hand and a pillow larger than his whole six-two frame under the other arm. “Hello, son.”
I looked around for Nash as he came through the den. I cleared my throat and jerked my head in his direction as if to say, “Human inbound.”
Nash nearly tripped over his feet as he entered the room. “D-Damon Claymore?” Nash’s eyes whipped from Azrael’s face to mine and back again.
“He’s my brother,” I lied again. “Surprise.” Azrael and I looked almost identical.
Except, at the moment, Azrael looked borderline hostile. “Who are you?”
“I’m…I’m Nash, sir.”
“That tells me nothing. Why are you here?”
“Um…I’m an intern.”
Azrael’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t hire interns.”
“I work for Flint, sir.”
“Oh shit,” Fury said.
“Who?” I asked.
Azrael’s glare shifted to Fury. “Where is he? Is that him in the helicopter? Tell him to get his ass in here.”
Fury tapped her wrist. “You can chew him out later. We’ve got a schedule. Huffman is expecting us at the armory by eight.”
“Can I take your things, Mr. Claymore?” Nash asked, extending two very shaky hands.
I put my hand on his shoulder. “Cut the kid some slack, brother. He’s one of your biggest fans.”
Azrael pushed the pillow against Nash’s chest then offered him the duffel bag. When Nash took hold of the handle, Az jerked him close. “You ever speak of me to anyone, and I’ll kill you. Understand?”
All the blood drained from Nash’s face. “Y-yes, sir.”
“Go.” Azrael released the bag, and Nash hurried away. Az turned back and pointed at Fury. “I’m going to murder your father.”
I flinched as Abaddon, the Destroyer, flashed through my mind. Fury’s biological father was the fallen—and now permanently deceased—Archangel of Protection and Guardian of Nulterra.
“Your father?” I asked.
Fury shook her head. “Not Abaddon, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“I’m not.” Boy, I was on a roll for dishonesty.
“Flint McGrath is the man who raised Fury,” Adrianne clarified. “He’s been keeping an eye on this place for your dad.”
I should have known all this. If not from Fury, then at least from the memories in Azrael’s blood stone. But to be fair, I hadn’t worn Azrael’s blood stone in well over a decade in Eden’s time. And Fury…hell, in all the time we were together, she’d never told me anything about anything.
Nash returned. “Can I do anything else for you, Mr. Claymore, sir?”
Azrael’s jaw shifted. “Yes. Go outside to the helicopter and tell your boss to get in here.”
“Yes, sir,” Nash said with a nod before darting past me toward the back door.
“Where’d your dad find him?” Azrael asked Fury, clearly worried about how much he could trust the kid.
Fury shrugged her sculpted shoulders. “Flint and I haven’t exactly been on speaking terms.”
Azrael lifted an eyebrow but didn’t comment.
“What is this place?” I asked to break the tension.
“One of our new summer homes,” Adrianne said, with much more disdain than would typically accompany such a declaration. “Your father’s been dragging me all over the world lately. Isn’t that lovely?”
It didn’t sound lovely.
“Really?” I asked. “Where have you gone?”
“Mostly New Hope.” Adrianne started to count on her fingers. “But we’ve been to Chicago, New Mexico, California. He’s even taken me halfway around the world to Vietnam and then Germany.”
Azrael was taking her to different Claymore installations. Perhaps to find the perfect place to hide her when the time came for the birth.
She touched both sides of her belly. “Do you know how hard it is to spend twenty-four hours on a plane when you’re pregnant?” She rolled her eyes toward him. “Or twelve hours in a car?”
“You drove in this morning?” I asked.
“All night,” Adrianne answered.
Azrael walked around to face her. Then he cupped her face in his hands. “For the millionth time, I’m sorry.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Go rest. I’ll be back in time for dinner.”
“Can we eat Italian?” Her bottom lip poked out.
He kissed it. “We’ll eat whatever you want.”
“OK.” She turned toward me again, opening her arms. “It’s so good to see you, Warren. We’ll catch up later, yeah?”
My head swam again as she hugged me. “You bet.”
“Bye, Fury.”
Fury didn’t even wave.
When Adrianne left, Nash returned alone. He looked even more nervous, if that was possible. “Mr. McGrath said, with all due respect, that if you want to talk to him, you can get your happy ass on that chopper.” Nash cringed and put his hands up in defense. “Those were his words, not mine, sir.”
A growl rolled deep in Azrael’s throat.
“Come on. You can talk in the air,” I said. “Fury’s right. We’ve got shit to do.”
Azrael took a step back. “I’m not flying. I’ll drive and meet you there.”
“Good god,” Fury grumbled.
I smirked. “Az, it’s like a mile across the water. It will take you an hour to drive around the inlet and get there by car.”
The angry lines in Azrael’s forehead were severe.
Fury started toward the back door. “You’ll be fine, you big chicken.”
“Allison, I have absolutely no—”
“Bwooock, bwock, bwock, bwooock,” she teased, holding the door open.
I smiled at him. “You’re not gonna prove her right, are you?”
“I hate you both.” Azrael shook his head and walked past me, then stormed by Fury and out the door.
Nash’s gaze followed him. “Is Damon Claymore afraid of flying?”
“It’s a long story, kid. Take care of yourself, and by that, I mean never breathe a word of this to anyone.”
“Oh, I won’t,” he said, violently shaking his head.
I gave him a halfhearted salute, grabbed my backpack, then caught up with Azrael halfway down the dock. I pulled on his arm. “I need to talk to you! Alone!” I shouted over the roar of the helicopter.
He shook his head, squinting against the sun. “I already know what you’re going to say! We can’t talk here!” His eyes shifted toward the house. “Come on, before I change my mind!”
My eyes drifted back to the house again, and though I knew it was my imagination, the power within it seemed to make the whole building breathe.
With a shudder, I turned back toward the helicopter. Fury was watching me. She mouthed the words, “You know something.”
I darted my eyes away…because I did.
I knew why my father was acting weird. I knew why he was on high alert. And I knew why he was keeping Adrianne away as much as possible.
The child she carried wasn’t my brother. It wasn’t Azrael’s son. And aside from some shared DNA, the baby wasn’t even Adrianne’s.
The vilest angel of all time was about to be reborn.
The prince of demons.
The Morning Star.