Chapter Eighteen

Morrigan was exhausted but still on her feet. She’d fought like a Valkyrie, an Amazon, like the demon hunter she was. She hadn’t run but had stayed beside him, slashing and wounding demons. Yes, she’d stabbed him, or tried to, but it hadn’t been intentional. She’d mistaken him for a demon.

Lucifer had surprised him. He’d expected the portal, but not the flood of demons. He had no idea how many he’d killed. It was a waste of resources. Not that the fallen angel cared about his demons, other than for his own pleasure. Still, fewer demons meant less power.

Had he been trying to wear Maccus down for Gabriel to fight? That almost made him laugh. He could fight for days, weeks, even years. He’d done it before, and he was stronger now.

I have a weakness.

The thought was fleeting but no less true. He didn’t dare take his eyes off his two adversaries to check on Morrigan.

“Well? What are we waiting for?” He’d tossed his jacket aside early in the fight and was in his shirtsleeves. The night was balmy, the slight breeze wicking away the sweat from his skin. He gave his former friend his full attention. “Lucifer has had his demons. Are you waiting for angels?”

There was a slight flicker in Gabriel’s eyes, but it was the devil who moved first. He grabbed Kayley by her long red hair and dragged her toward him. Wrapping his hand around her throat, he lifted her until her feet dangled in the air.

Her entire body jerked as she struggled, her long red nails digging into his skin.

“Stop.” Morrigan surged past him, but he caught her around the waist and yanked her back. He couldn’t allow Lucifer to have two pawns. One was bad enough.

“Let her go,” she demanded even as she struggled against his hold. “Let me go.”

“No. She deserves whatever she gets. Your sister is the one who trapped you into the life of a bounty hunter, not to save herself, but to gain power. And the devil always gets his due.” Harsh words, but she needed to hear them.

“She’s my sister.” She kept trying to pull away, but he wasn’t letting her go.

Kayley was starting to turn blue. This was more than a ploy. He was actually killing the woman. Maccus couldn’t work up an ounce of outrage or regret.

“Please.” Morrigan stopped fighting him and instead turned in his arms. “I have to. She’s my sister.”

The pleading in her green eyes, the concern on her face, ripped at what little remained of his soul.

“No. She betrayed you.” Why did she care so much? Why was she so loyal? As much as he admired such devotion, he didn’t understand how she could believe she owed her sister anything. She’d given up her life for the girl.

Lucifer loosened his hold, allowing Kayley to suck in a huge breath. Her eyes were glazed over and slightly wild. She blinked as though coming out of a daze. “Morrigan? Why are you here?”

Then she got a look at who was holding her, and her entire demeanor changed from confused to fearful.

What was going on?

“No.” She tried to get away, but Lucifer jerked her back, using his hold on her hair. He twisted it so the thick mass was fisted in his hand. “Run, Morrigan,” she screamed.

“What did you do to her?” Morrigan demanded. The devil’s smile was pleasant, but his eyes promised retribution.

“I do whatever I choose.” He brought the girl close to him and licked the side of her face. The younger woman cringed away. It was such an about-face in character, Maccus questioned his earlier assessment. Had the girl been under some compulsion the entire time?

And why wasn’t Gabriel doing anything?

Kayley wrapped her arms around herself, her teeth chattering in spite of the warmth of the summer night. “You have to go,” she pleaded with her sister.

“I can’t.” Morrigan stroked his arm, the pleasure of her touch seeping into him in spite of the precariousness of their situation. “I can’t leave her,” she told him.

As he lowered his arm, a sly expression crossed Kayley’s face. The younger woman reached out her hand to her sister. “Help me. I need you.”

“No!” But it was too late. She’d already taken several steps away from him, away from his protection, when it happened.

Lucifer thrust Kayley aside, drew a dagger, and threw it. Maccus dove for Morrigan.

For the first time in his existence, he wasn’t fast enough. His fingers brushed her arm just as the blade slammed into her chest, driving her back with such force she flew through the air and hit the wall before sliding to the ground.

Kayley laughed.

Something inside him broke free. He threw back his head and roared. The world around him shook with the force of his anger. The buildings swayed as though rocked by an earthquake. The other three were all tossed aside as the percussive aftershock of his fury hit them.

Morrigan was dead. They’d killed her. No, he’d killed her by allowing her to step away from him.

His head snapped around when he heard a low, pained moan. She was still alive.

Breathing so hard he was practically panting, he started toward her. A stone crunched in the alley behind him. He whirled around and thrust his hands outward, releasing a flurry of daggers.

Lucifer yanked Kayley in front of him, using her as a shield. One of the daggers drove deep into her heart. Her mouth went slack, her eyes widened and filled with confusion as she stared down at the handle of the blade. Then her eyes rolled back in her head, and she crumpled to the ground.

The devil laughed. “How do you think Morrigan will feel about you when she learns you killed her sister?”

He didn’t care. Not as long as she lived.

No surprise that Gabriel was nowhere to be seen. The angel was a master at slipping away whenever things got too dangerous.

“Will you save her, I wonder?” Giving him a jaunty salute, Lucifer disappeared.

When Maccus held out his hand, all his blades returned to him. He didn’t spare Kayley’s body another glance.

Blood bubbled from the wound in Morrigan’s chest. He must have pushed her off balance just enough that the blade missed her heart. But she was in bad shape.

Her face was stark white, her eyes wide open. Had she seen what he’d done?

“I’ve got you.” He spied his jacket a couple of feet away, grabbed it, and laid it over her. “I have to get you home.”

His hands were shaking. His hands never shook. He held them out in front of him, not recognizing them.

Morrigan’s breathing was weak. The rattling in her chest worried him. She might be stronger than most humans, but she wasn’t immortal.

He lifted her as carefully as he could, but she still cried out. He expected her to pass out, but she was still awake and aware.

“I’ll take care of you,” he promised. Maybe she’d hate him for what he’d done, but so long as she lived, he could handle her hate.

The deep, dark presence inside him shifted again. He had to save her. She was the only one who could keep him from becoming a monster.

…

Morrigan had dealt with pain before, but nothing like this. Breathing was like sucking fire into her lungs. The wound burned. The fire migrated to her blood and now pumped through her entire body. It was as if she was burning alive from the inside out.

The blade had likely been dipped in poison. That was Lucifer’s way.

Her sister was dead. Or was she? It was hard to pick fact from fiction. Her mind drifted from memories of happier days to ones of fire and Hell, to the scene that had unfolded in the alleyway.

Buildings whizzed by so quickly her stomach churned. She closed her eyes and swallowed heavily.

“Look at me,” a deep male voice demanded. Even though her eyes were heavy, she forced them open. She knew that voice, didn’t she?

“Where…” She swallowed heavily, tasting something metallic and bitter.

“I’m taking you home.”

Home? She hadn’t had one of those in a long time, maybe never. Her body was heavy and warm. Leather creaked, and she caught a scent that cut through the sulfur and the overpowering smell of blood.

Maccus.

She turned her head slightly so she could see him. His face was set in a scowl—nothing unusual there. His smiles were rarer than blue diamonds.

“Hurt,” she managed to get out.

If anything, his features hardened even more. “Lucifer caught you with his knife.”

She’d left Maccus’s side. Why had she done that? Her sister…her sister had been pleading with her.

She licked her dry lips. “Kayley?”

He didn’t answer, which she supposed was an answer in and of itself. What had happened? She couldn’t put it all together.

The burning in her veins was getting worse. In spite of her resolve to be brave, tears trickled down her cheeks.

“Hold on.” He put on a final burst of speed. The night breeze brushed her face. The sounds of the city were muted in the background. They stopped moving. There was the ding of a bell.

She finally opened her eyes when he laid her on something soft. A bed. Were they home? And when had she started considering Maccus’s place home?

The handle of the dagger still protruded from her. The pain tore through her, becoming unbearable.

He tore open her shirt and dragged her bra off, tossing it aside. As he finished stripping away her clothes, he swore. The sound of his voice helped ease the pain.

When she chuckled, his head jerked up and he pinned her with a glare. She coughed and moaned. “Impressive swearing,” she managed to get out. At least five languages she’d recognized and many she hadn’t.

“This is going to hurt,” he warned.

“Already does.” She fisted her hands in the sheets and gritted her teeth. Maccus wrapped his hand around the handle and yanked. She screamed as pain ripped through her.

Blood spurted from the hole in her chest now that the knife wasn’t blocking it. Maccus grabbed a pillow and pressed it against the wound.

She wasn’t going to make it. The world got fuzzy around the edges, and the darkness followed. Panic filled her. She was going to Hell.

Maccus swore and pressed hard against her chest.

She gathered her strength and used the last of her breath. “Love you.”

He jerked back as though she’d hit him. Not the reaction she’d hoped for. But Maccus wasn’t an ordinary man.

She loved him—had been ready to die for him. The only other person she’d been willing to do that for had been her sister.

Kayley. Where was her sister?

Something had happened.

Something.

Then the world faded away into nothingness.

…

“No! No! No!” He yanked the pillow away. It was soaked with her precious blood. He didn’t know what to do to help her, wasn’t versed in even basic first aid. What didn’t kill him made him stronger. But she was different.

She loved him.

That’s what she’d said. Maybe it was delirium. She certainly couldn’t remember he’d killed her sister.

Now she was dying in his arms.

He threw back his head and roared. The chords of his neck ached with the strain of his fury. Why? It would have been better to have never met her than to have her for so little time.

His breathing grew deeper and heavier. The sweet scent of Morrigan mixed with the stench of her sweat and blood.

Blood. Could he stop the bleeding?

He manifested one of his blades from his body. Holding it in his hand, he willed it to heat. Her breathing was almost nonexistent. He forced himself to ignore her and focus on the blade. They were an extension of him, a part of him, just like the tiny sliver of light left from his time as an angel. He pulled on it, dragged it from the depths of his soul where it resided to the surface.

The blade quivered in his hand as though trying to escape from the light.

Ruthlessly, he forced his body and soul to comply, bending both to his will. It might kill him, but so be it.

Bright light radiated from his palm, and the tip of the blade exploded in a blaze of white fire.

He laid the flat of the blade against her skin, covering the wound. The stink of burning flesh was overwhelming, but he held on, pouring the light into her.

“Come on,” he muttered. This had to work. There were no other options.

The light on the blade began to fade. “Not yet.” Sweat beaded on his forehead, and tears bled from his eyes as he pushed himself to the limits of endurance. Finally, he was so weak, the light snapped back and retreated, dimmer than it had been before.

Maccus pulled the blade away and stared down at her chest.

The wound was gone. The bleeding hadn’t just stopped, there was no scar, no blood, and no sign there ever had been a knife in her chest.

He slumped forward, barely having enough energy to catch himself before he fell on top of her. His knife disappeared back onto his body.

Leaning down, he listened for her breath. It was there, slow and steady.

There was still much to be done. With a groan, he pushed himself off the bed. First, he collected her clothing and set it aside. Then he set to work cleaning her up and changing the sheets.

When she didn’t even stir, he went into the bathroom to get a quick shower. Not willing to leave her alone, he kept the door open so he would hear if she woke.

She loved him.

It was likely she didn’t mean it. It was something said in the heat of the moment when she’d expected to die. Still, he savored the words. No one had ever said them to him before, not in his long, immortal life.

That made Morrigan very rare and special. She understood who he was, what he was, and still she’d uttered those words.

She’ll take them back when she finds out about her sister. The voice of reason was trying to protect him, but he feared no shield, no weapon could protect him if she turned on him and withdrew her love.

He stepped out of the shower, dried off, and tossed the towel aside, eager to be by her side. Naked, he padded back into the room. She hadn’t moved.

He pulled back the covers and crawled into bed. Lying on his side, he wrapped his arm around her waist, needing to touch her.

Her chest was unmarked, her breasts rising and falling with each breath she took. By some miracle, she was still alive. When she woke, they had much to discuss.

Until then, he’d hold her and watch over her.

…

Gabriel walked into the upscale piano bar and paused just inside the door so everyone would see him. He did so love attention.

The person he’d come to meet was in one of the luxury booths bookended by two lovely ladies. No surprise there.

As he made his way across the room, he enjoyed the sweet sounds of the piano. Humans did have their strengths—art and music being their best and possibly only true talents.

By the time he’d reached the table, Lucifer had sent the women away. Gabriel slid onto the leather seat. The high back and circular shape of the booth gave them relative privacy.

“What were you thinking?” he finally asked.

Lucifer lifted the brandy snifter and swirled the amber liquid before taking a sip. “I was thinking I was tired of waiting. You may be content to sit back and watch, but I make things happen.”

“You tried to kill the woman,” he pointed out.

“Ah, yes.” He smiled. “I wondered if that might push Maccus over the edge into total darkness, but he’s a quick bastard. Still, I don’t expect she’ll live long. And when she dies…”

“And when she dies, you expect he’ll come after us for revenge.” Gabriel leaned against the back of the booth and studied his ally in this endeavor. They didn’t trust each other, but they did have a common goal—getting rid of Maccus once and for all. “And the sister? I thought you liked Kayley.”

Lucifer’s laugh had a sinister edge that made a chill race down his spine. “I still have her. She’d be dead if I hadn’t gone back for her. I wasn’t the one who hurt the girl. That was Maccus. If Morrigan lives, she might spare us the work and kill him herself.” He paused and took a sip of brandy. “Either way, I win.”

“It’s risky.”

“That’s the problem with you,” Lucifer pointed out. “You’re never willing to put your own neck out there.”

Gabriel inclined his head and stood. “We’ll see how this plays out.” He left the devil enjoying his brandy and women and didn’t allow himself to smile until he’d stepped outside.

No, he didn’t like to put his own neck on the line, and why would he when others were so willing to risk their own? If his brother was right, no matter how things unfolded, he’d get what he’d been waiting for since he’d tossed his former friend into the pits of Hell—Maccus sanctioned by both Heaven and Hell. Then the bastard would finally die, something he should have done thousands of years ago.

Best of all, none of it would come back on him. He could point the finger at Lucifer. All he’d done was watch the scene unfold. And wasn’t that what angels did? They watched and didn’t interfere.

Still smiling, Gabriel walked away.