I lose my focus on them when Emil cracks an invisible whip of magic and embeds a second searing hook into my other side. I scream in pain, before gritting my teeth and focusing on the evil bastard once more. My hand wraps around his invisible energy as I try to yank it from me without success.
Emil shakes his head, acting as if he’s concerned about me as I writhe in pain. “Now look what you’ve made me do. We’ve made a mess and I only wanted to reunite with you. I’ve missed you, Simone,” he says with red spittle coming from his mouth. “I’ve missed hurting you. You shouldn’t have run from me. You know how I hate to have to come and find you.”
“Inconvenient?” I ask with a pant of pain, hoping the look in my eyes kills him. “How’s this?” I growl. Pulling energy to me, I focus it all into a pulse of light that flows out of my hand. Intending to fry him with it, he merely lifts his palm, deflecting the intense heat of my magic, redirecting it into the Martindale’s’ two-story colonial. The house explodes into flames, melting a gaping hole in the aluminum siding.
“Simone, did you just try to murder me?” Emil smirks. “And here I thought you’d be happy to see me.”
“You’re sick.”
“I remember the time when you couldn’t take a breath without my permission.”
“You enjoyed that.”
“I enjoyed you.”
I lower my head and beat my wings harder, no longer fighting his pull on me, but using his magical force to propel me right to him. I use my legs to coil around his waist. Driving my arm forward, blood spatters my face as I punch a hole through his chest and pull out his still-pumping heart. “Well then, how do you like me now?” I ask as his mouth opens in shock. His evil, hooded eyes meet mine as his body crumples. I unwind my legs from him and let his body fall to the street below with a sickening thud.
The throbbing pain in my abdomen eases as I pant, my wings beating to keep me in the air. Wildly, I look around at the street below. Mr. Kendrick, the retired postal worker who organizes our annual block parties, is on his front porch, staring at me with a look of horror on his face.
I hold up my hands to him, inadvertently displaying the waning heart in my fist. As blood drips from my wrist and elbow, I try to reassure him. “It’s okay, Mr. Kendrick.” Frozen for a moment, he just stares at me. The front of his pants darken as he wets himself. “I won’t hurt you,” I say, but I only scare him more. He stumbles back with a lurch, bumping into the yellow wood siding of his house before he pivots to his door. He rattles the black handle, his shaking hand like a club. When he manages to open it, he backs inside before slamming the door shut.
Numbly, I look down at Emil’s body in the street. As I drop his dead heart on the ground, I look for signs of life in him, but he’s still. A thousand different emotions assail me; the most prevalent among them are hope that he’s dead and fear that he’s not. All around me, the war between the angels has taken to the street. They’re tearing each other apart, hundreds of them, staining the snow red with their need to destroy one another.
Slowing the beat of my wings so that I land on the pavement, I stay well back from Emil’s body. I glance over my shoulder, looking for Xavier; he’s taking apart a fallen Seraph with his bare hands. The other divine angels are wreaking havoc on their enemies, too. I move to help Xavier, but I hesitate as Emil’s corpse begins to change. His coat alters from a gray military trench to a short, black leather jacket. Emil’s features shift as well. His hair turns from strawberry-blond to black, his skin tone darkens, his small, straight nose grows larger and becomes aquiline. Dark hair sprouts from his chin as his lips widen and lose their perfect symmetry.
My bloody hand comes up to cover my mouth as I rush closer to him. Crouching near, I pick up his cold, dead hand, and stare at the face of Owen Matthews—my date to the Delt formal in what feels like a lifetime ago. Tears of horror come to my eyes. His throat has been ripped open where I had stabbed Emil.
Mr. Kendrick’s front door opens as Emil emerges with his hands shoved in the pockets of his gray trench coat. He strolls toward me with a sanguine smile on his lips. Chaos swirls around him as angels pounce on one another, slashing and cutting. Dappled brown feathers are being shred from a divine Power angel as a fallen archangel’s fists tug on them while they wrestle in the snow. Emil ignores everyone, walking around flailing forms before stopping next to me. I rise to face him.
With a nod toward Owen, Emil assesses, “Your boyfriend. You killed him.”