Chapter Seven

 

 

 

For Ira, standing still on a normal day was pretty much impossible, and there had been no normal days since Vegas. Of course, that wasn’t without its virtues… Pun intended. The past three weeks with Cassie had been simultaneously the best and most stressful of his long life, and she was the reason for both.

Being stationed Seal-side after nearly losing her to a knife-wielding apocalypse-happy blowhole—who had yet to be identified, by the way—was enough to make his nerves dance precariously near the edge he so frequently dove over. To say he didn’t like it was putting it mildly, thus when Lucifer had shown up and put her in the position of a laundry delivery service, Ira had all but shoved her out of the proverbial door.

Leaving him alone by the Seal, with the ever so pleasant Guardian as company.

As far as Guardians went, Yorke wasn’t all bad. She didn’t talk and she didn’t get in his way. He could almost forget she was present were it not for the vapid black hole that served as her energy signature and those glares that told him how little she valued his company. Which was fine, because he didn’t particularly want to be there, either.

Still, despite what had happened in Paris and his own hang-ups, Ira knew, on some level, that the Seal was the safest place for Cassie, though his overprotective instincts had yet to stop blaring. He figured this much was natural. The world could end if the culprit—Lilith, as Lucifer had confirmed—wasn’t stopped. And wouldn’t it just figure that everything went ass over tits the second Ira had something to live for.

Not that the world ending would affect him beyond taking away Earth as a playground, but life without humankind was not something he wanted to consider. He also wasn’t too keen on the idea of moving Cassie to Hell. They’d managed to avoid a trip to the pit in the weeks since Vegas, and the longer he could put off introducing the opposite of Paradise to a creature born of purity, the better.

Cassie had been gone too long. It didn’t take an hour to drop off clothing. Every thirty seconds, he dug out his cell phone before cursing and remembering that signal next to a Seal was for shit. For fuck’s sake, considering how much rode on the Sins’ ability to communicate right now and their inability to teleport in or out of a Seal’s region, he’d think Lucifer would spring for a more user-friendly mobile plan.

Ira pivoted on his heel and stalked up a stretch of rock, then twisted again and paced back. Every nerve in his body screamed for action. If Cassie didn’t get back soon, heads were going to roll. Namely his own. His nerves were shot, his body was wound tight, and he felt like he could jackhammer a hole in the ground if he stood still.

Love was a fucking bitch.

“Are you incapable of remaining stationary?”

Ira paused in mid-stride, then arched a glance over his shoulder. “Oh, so you can talk, then?”

The Guardian, Yorke, glowered at him from where she stood against the cavern wall, her arms crossed, sword dangling from the crook of her elbow. She was all bulk, that one, and he didn’t reckon he’d fare decent against her in a fistfight. Her arms were packed with muscle, revealed by her sleeveless tank top. For a creature older than dirt, she certainly dressed and acted more civilized than he would have thought. Hell, Ira didn’t know what he’d expected, but modern clothes and an ear for human English wasn’t among them. Her rich, coffee-colored skin was flawless against the glow of his mobile, save for the banded tattoos around her upper arms in elegant pearly script from his own barely-used native tongue. Passages from the Good Book, as humans called it. Revelation, to be specific. How fucking cliché.

Yorke arched a fine eyebrow, her eyes seeming to swallow him. Her black hair was pulled from her face in stylish dreads, and cushioned her back against the stone wall. With her posture, her severe expression and that sword at her side, everything about her screamed, ‘Don’t fuck with me’. And for most of his stay by the Seal, Ira had been all too happy to comply.

But Cassie was gone. She should have been back by now.

What the fuck was taking her so long?

“If anyone is approaching,” Yorke said, her voice laced with ire, “we need to be able to hear it.”

Ira blinked at her. “And walking back and forth’s gonna fuck that up, is it?”

“I am unaccustomed to noise. You and the small female have already been distraction enough.”

“Right tragedy that is,” he snapped. “It’s not like we’re down here shopping for summer homes.”

“Any threat that befalls the Seal is mine to address. So it has always been.”

“Yeah.” Ira snorted. “Somehow I keep forgetting that you have miles of experience fighting off demigods.”

Yorke’s mouth formed a line, her eyes narrowing. “You forget who you address, Sin.”

“Yeah? Why don’t you remind me?”

For a moment, it seemed as though Yorke would do exactly that, which would likely result in some bruised ribs and a black eye for him, but any distraction from Cassie’s absence was a welcome one. Ira needed to focus on something—anything—to stave off his innate need to charge out into the city and track her down. Logic told him that she had probably gotten chatty with Invi, seeing as Cassie had been ostracized from her Virtue sisters and, love him though she did, she might have needed a break. He got it—the past few weeks had been monumental for her in ways he couldn’t completely understood. She had abandoned all of Heaven, and though that decision had come independently of her feelings for him, he knew he represented a piece of what she’d lost.

No matter how much she’d grown to doubt in her Almighty, turning her back on everything she knew took more than just a few weeks of adjustment. So yes, Cassie had probably seized the opportunity to socialize, which was good for her but bad for him and his penchant to run his mouth when he didn’t have her to hold him back.

Yorke looked eager to prove that fact bluntly. Her firm jaw was set, her eyes ablaze. Her sword had found its way back into her hand, and she had just taken a step forward when something seemed to seize her senses and draw her back to herself.

“I am unaccustomed to being in the presence of others,” she bit out. “We cannot afford to be distracted with petty squabblings.”

Ira had a retort ready—one insinuating she knew to back down before he introduced her ass to the ground—and managed to swallow it. Imagining Cassie’s disapproval was enough for him.

If something had happened to her, after all, he needed his strength.

Ira forced a nod then, and aimed for the smile of the properly chastised, but imagined it came out more of a wince. “Right,” he said. “I—”

Yorke inhaled and whirled on her feet, facing the direction opposite him, her sword at the ready. “Identify yourself!” she yelled down the—from what Ira could see—vacant stone pathway. Yet the fact that he didn’t see anyone didn’t mean they weren’t there, and immediately his body tightened with apprehension.

“What’s there?” he rasped. “Talk to me, Guardian.”

Yorke didn’t answer, her scowl deepening. Her gaze remained fixed on a point in the distance.

Then chaos descended in the form of two shots of pure black smoke. The first struck Yorke in the gut, earning a muffled grunt and the swish of her sword. The second descended upon Ira. Then he was down, his leg screaming in pain and sending him to the ground with bone-crunching force. Ira choked on a collage of profanity, pain radiating from the wound. He outshot his hand and released a firebolt that filled the cavern walls with a thunderous crash and a blaze of blinding light. He blinked against the spots flooding his vision, his heart having taken residence in his throat, his ears ringing and his mind on a downward spiral.

“Fuck!” Ira yelled, blinking hard before his eyes lost the battle and slammed shut. His voice sounded muffled and distant, as though he were listening to someone above water. He thrust his palm forward again. The urge to let loose a stream of electricity ate at his insides, but he managed to restrain himself. Wouldn’t do him a lick of good if he managed to wound his ally in the confusion, and he had no idea where to aim his fury. Or if the Guardian was still standing.

That anything had been able to knock him off his feet with such little effort scared the piss out of him.

Ira gritted his teeth and forced watering eyes open, every aching nerve in his body screeching a protest as he fought to stand.

A familiar woman stood where Yorke had just seconds ago. Her jet-black hair fell in inky ribbons over her shoulders, her endless onyx eyes even larger than he remembered. The mask she’d worn in Vegas—the one she’d slid into place when he’d stormed in Lucifer’s penthouse suite and demanded to know where Cassie had been taken—was gone.

Ira coughed and wiped his hand across his lower lip, his pain hardening into fury.

Lilith stopped when she reached the Seal and crossed her arms. Behind her lurked two shadows, one hovering over the fallen form of the Guardian. From his position, Ira couldn’t tell if Yorke had survived. If she had, she was down for the count, and he couldn’t get to her. Not if he wanted to keep his attention on the demigod.

Lilith cocked her head, regarding him with a smirk. “Hello, Ira.”

Ira grappled with words, his mouth fumbling over syllables. “F-fuck. You.”

She tsked. “Not in the mood to play nice, I see. It’s a shame. These things tend to go a lot better if you play nice.” Lilith stepped forward, tucking a lock of ebony hair behind her ear. “I am sorry for the mess,” she said, waving behind her. “We thought about knocking, but even after an eternity, there’s nothing I love more than making an entrance.”

Ira’s jaw tightened. The urge to look past her and check out her entourage became harder to ignore the closer she got, but as far as mistakes went, that might be his last. Whoever her cronies were was invaluable information, true, though dead men told no tales. And Lilith sure as fuck wouldn’t hesitate to make him a dead man.

He wouldn’t make it easy for her.

“Yorke?” he asked, his throat screaming. “She dead?”

A nasty grin spread across Lilith’s ruby lips. “Funny how priorities shift, isn’t it Ira? In the span of just a few weeks too. How many Guardians’ names did you know before Vegas?”

His fingers tingled with a familiar burn. If she got a little closer, he might be able to fry the bitch. Perhaps not enough to kill her, but enough to surprise her—throw her off her feet so he could take out the faceless fuckwads behind her.

“If you think about it,” Lilith continued, edging closer another step, “I am somewhat responsible for giving them reasons to live. Well, at least I made things interesting. Of all Lucifer’s Sins, Ira, I would think you would understand the tedium that comes with staring at a hole in the ground all day.”

The burn between his fingers morphed from an itch to a throb. He worked his throat, which hurt like a motherfucker, but he somehow managed to swallow. “Think you know me, do you?”

Her smile widened. “Oh, honey. There isn’t a man alive I haven’t met.”

“You’d like to think so.”

“Thought has nothing to do with it. I’ve been around—what time is it?—forever. Your sex has very little to offer, Ira, but you’re damn sure eager to try.” Lilith cocked her head. “That’s what makes men so…special.”

“What do you want?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Isn’t it obvious?” She gestured to the Seal. “I’m reclaiming this planet.”

It took a moment for Ira to realize she’d actually confessed. Lilith wasn’t known for being upfront. She found artful ways to lie with the truth, if not outright. “For someone,” he rasped, “who sure as fuck tried to…give herself an alibi in Paris, you’re kinda losing your edge.”

Lilith perked an eyebrow. “An alibi? You think that’s what that was?”

Ira opted to give his vocal cords a rest and shrugged. If her visit in Vegas wasn’t a weak-ass ploy to put herself in one place while her master plan went down elsewhere, he’d sure as hell like to know what it was. Lilith had done her best to be with Lucifer when anything remotely incriminating was in the works—when the Seal had opened, when Cassie had been taken, she’d been right where everyone could see her. Not that it had mattered a lick. Lilith had been at the top of a one-person suspect list since Ava’s flight from Hell, and she was nothing if not resourceful.

As to why she didn’t give a fuck now was anyone’s guess.

“One last chance, Ira. Lucifer meant something to me,” she said. “At least, once upon a time. Even if he never believed it, it was the truth. If there was ever a single man who I could care about, he was it.”

“How fucking romantic,” Ira drawled.

Her expression darkened. “Tread carefully.”

“Or what?” He spread his arms. “You’ll kill me? If you wanted to do that, you wouldn’t have bothered stopping to chat, would you? What’s it you want?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I want the Seal open.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have offed the Guardian, then?”

Lilith turned at that to look at the place where Yorke had fallen. Her actions were slow and deliberate, and gave him enough time to glance at the other goons in the cavern.

Only there were no other goons. Whoever had been there was gone now.

Fuck.

“The Guardian will live,” Lilith said, turning back to him. “She looks like a tough cookie, wouldn’t you agree? The female sex is always prevailing where men assume we’ll fail. But I don’t need her for the ritual, Ira. I want you to do it.”

Ira blinked. “Me.”

She smiled, and it wasn’t a nice smile. “I’ve wondered now for a while,” she said, “if your blood would do what theirs does. You see, you and the Guardians aren’t all that different, and if I know my boys, Lucifer and Jehovah would insist upon a back-up plan. The good Creator does enjoy pretending he’s the champion of free will after all. What would happen if the apocalypse was scheduled to start but the performers refused to show up?”

Several dark somethings clicked into place at that moment, a new knowledge curling around Ira’s insides and making his veins blaze with awareness. It had never made sense before—why Cassie had been taken, why anyone thought the blood of a Virtue could perform like that of a Guardian’s. He had assumed it was a drastic leap at first, or the bumbling attempts of a few starry-eyed lackeys desperate to prove their worth to their mistress.

“You nearly killed her,” he spat, fiery hot ropes of fury curling around his muscles. Static danced between his fingertips.

“The Virtue.” Lilith shrugged, though her expression hardened. “If it means anything, she wasn’t supposed to die, just bleed a little.”

Ira clenched his jaw, willing himself to keep hold of his temper. The urge to fry her ass was dulled only by his thirst for information. The sooner Lilith’s plan unraveled, the sooner he could whisk Cassie away and spend a month between the haven that was her thighs. If Lilith felt chatty, he might get ahead of the curve and everyone could go home early. “That’s a comfort,” he retorted, trembling. “Your little experiment didn’t fare so well, though, so a guy has to wonder just how thick you really are.”

Lilith’s eyes flashed. “I believe I told you to tread carefully.”

“You know that saying about actions and words?”

“What happened in Paris with dear Cassie was a mishap on my end,” she said, edging a step closer. “I didn’t know it at the time, but hindsight being what it is, the answer made perfect sense after I had it. Like the Guardians, the blood of the stand-in must be freely given. See, Jehovah really does love the illusion of free will—even his backup plan has an out. Lucky for him there are seven of you. My friends in Paris didn’t ask the little Virtue nicely to open a vein, ergo the Seal remained unopened.” Her lips twitched into an ugly smile. “Well, until earlier tonight, as you might have heard.”

Ira balked. “So you think I’m gonna slit my wrist for you?”

“Yes.”

The unerring certainty in her eyes rattled him. There was only one thing to explain her confidence—the only factor that could coax Ira into action, that could have him even considering playing nice.

“Cassie,” he whispered, his gut clenching. “Where is she?”

A fierce tear of static rippled through the air before Lilith could respond. Ira started and thrust his hand out to meet the onslaught, but the former Hell Queen released a wail the likes of which could render the stone walls around him into rubble. She collapsed the next instant, her shoulder smoking, her eyes wide and murderous, and behind her stood Cassie, her arm still outstretched, sparks of electricity rippling between her fingers.

“I’m sorry,” Cassie said, her voice heavy and saccharine. “Were you waiting for me?” She looked to Ira, her gaze hard and angry, but full of relief. “Are you okay?” she mouthed.

Fucking hell. “I love you,” he said. “God, I love you.”

“Well,” Lilith spat, climbing to her knees. “Isn’t this sweet?”

Ira smirked and blew Cassie a kiss.

Cassie grinned, seemingly happy to take that as confirmation he wasn’t wounded. “She had some guys waiting for me,” she said, and shot another energy bolt at the grunting demigod. “I think they thought I was going to be… What’s that word, sweetie?”

“A pushover?” Ira supplied.

“That’s it.” She rocked a bit on her heels. “I’m not much of a pushover these days.”

“Yes.” Lilith coughed and inched along the ground, ugly burn marks twisting paths across her white skin.

Then she looked up and met Ira’s gaze, and his insides flushed cold.

“Neither am I,” she said.

“Cassie!” he screamed.

But the warning came too late. Lilith was on her feet the next moment, and Cassie’s back slammed hard against the stone wall behind her, propelled by a force Ira couldn’t see. His knees shook, the injured one threatening to cave, but he lurched forward—or tried to. His feet were planted to the ground.

Lilith smiled and dusted herself off. “You really didn’t think it would be that simple, did you?” She aimed a hand in Cassie’s direction, and in slow seconds, the sound of flesh against stone sliced through the thick air.

Cassie clawed at her throat, held suspended against the far wall, her feet inches off the ground. Her eyes reflected panic that cut Ira straight to the bone.

“Let her go!” he yelled, commanding his feet to move forward. It did no good. Whatever magic Lilith wielded had glued him to the spot. “You fucking bitch—”

Lilith cut a sharp glare his way, all mirth—feigned and exaggerated—gone from her face. “You want her so badly, Ira, you know what you have to do. I don’t rejoice in killing women, but I am quite accustomed to getting my way. The world for your lover. Is she worth that to you?”

Cassie pleaded with him wordlessly, shaking her head, desperate. And everything Ira knew came to a standstill. Everything he valued—everything he loved. Duty in those seconds meant shit to him. Loyalty to Lucifer, to the pit, to his siblings… There were things he’d gladly die for—not many, but a few. Not too long ago, he’d thought his sisters topped the list.

Then he’d met Cassie, and his world had shifted.

The choice was clear, then. He could walk out of here with her or without her. Lilith held the trump card and the bitch knew it.

“I’ll do it,” he choked. “Let her go. I’ll do it.”

Lilith shook her head, her lips curving upward. “Do it, then I let her go. And don’t keep me waiting, Ira.” She thrashed her hand out, and Cassie’s head thunked against the cavern wall. “My patience isn’t what it used to be.”

“Ira!” Cassie gasped, her eyes shining. “Don’t—”

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he murmured. He looked to the ground around his feet and spotted a scraggly piece of broken rock amid the debris. It was in hand the next second, the jagged end pressed to the flesh of his wrist. “Our story’s not over yet.”

“How sentimental,” Lilith drawled. “Any time you’re ready, Sin.”

Ira trembled and forced himself to meet Cassie’s gaze. The horror he saw there packed the punch of a gunshot blast to the chest. Whether or not Lilith intended to kill one or both of them was inconsequential then. Even if they lived, even if they managed to fight their way to the other side, Cassie might never forgive him.

He could live with that, so long as she was around to hate his ass.

Holding her gaze, he sliced a line down his wrist. “This’ll never work,” he said.

“Then what do you have to fear?” Lilith cooed. “Bleed well, Ira. The more you give it, the quicker it opens, and the quicker you can have dear, sweet Cassie back.”

The look on Cassie’s face spoke to everything he couldn’t voice. Ira swallowed hard and braced himself as the first dribble of blood splashed downward, and hoped he had the chance to make it up to her.