“If angels deem that person worthy!” Val roared. “You are not worthy.”
“I never have been, in your eyes.” David stalked toward the door, and after a brief nod from Val, Shade let him go—but not before whispering something in David’s ear that made his knees buckle. Once he caught himself, he couldn’t get away fast enough.
Val sank heavily onto his chair, didn’t look at Serena. “I don’t have the words to explain,” he began. “So ask what you need to.”
Too in shock to speak, Serena said nothing. It was Shade who broke the ice.
“This is better than a soap. Not that I’d know.” He propped himself against the doorframe again. “So, Aegi… why didn’t you ever tell Serena you whipped up her baby batter?”
Yes, she would like the answer to that oddly phrased question. Val buried his face in his hands, and she had to strain to hear him.
“How could I tell you when I couldn’t even come clean with my own family? I honestly didn’t think they knew. And after Patrice died, there was no point in saying anything. I knew that with the nuns, you’d be safe and well-cared for.” He lifted his head, watched her with bloodshot eyes. “I was a coward. And because of that, my son hates me. Hates his own sister. I’m sorry. So sorry.”
“What will happen to David?” Shade asked, in a tone that said he’d handle things if Val’s answer didn’t satisfy him.
Val took a ragged breath that ended on a sob. “It’s a matter for The Aegis.” He came to his feet. “I’ll be back.”
Shade waited until Val was gone, and then muttered, “Family sucks sometimes.”
God, he had that right. “About family… I think you should know the reason Wraith hasn’t been to see your sons.” Shade opened his mouth, but Serena cut him off. “He’s afraid, Shade. He’s afraid to share himself, like each piece he gives to someone is going to be a piece that goes missing when they turn on him. He feels like he’s lost you and Eidolon to your mates and children, and you were all he had.”
“Why do you care?” he asked gruffly. “After what Wraith did to you, you should hate him.”
“I also love him, and I can’t turn that off.” She sighed and flopped back against her pillow, the day’s events sapping what was left of her energy.
Shade crossed the room and sank down on the bed with her. Gently, he took her wrist, and his tattoo—dermoire, he’d said at one point—began to glow, and a pleasant tingling sensation spread through her veins.
“Funny things, humans,” he said under his breath. “Just when you think they’re all a bunch of morons, a smart one shows up and proves you wrong.”
She smiled drowsily. “I do believe that was a compliment. From a demon. Go figure.”
“Yup. Just when you think we’re all a bunch of morons…”
One shows up and makes you fall in love with him.
Twenty-eight
This charm thing was so cool.
Wraith and Reaver approached the Dome of the Rock with ease, practically untouched by the army of demons who swarmed around it. He could have shapeshifted into some heinous demon to make himself less conspicuous, but there was no fun in that.
No, he walked straight through the horde like a spear through flesh, his long leather trench coat flapping at his ankles, the comforting clank of his weapons ringing in his ears. Thoughtful of his brothers to bring his fighting gear.
Several demons attempted to assault him—not because they viewed Wraith or Reaver as enemies, but because demons were generally just assholes—but thanks to the charm, something always got in the way of their attacks. They’d stumble, strike another demon, miss him completely… yeah, the charm thing was way cool.
Reaver pulled him to a halt at the top of the steps, just beneath the arched colonnade outside the golden-domed mosque. “If this goes badly for me, you know what to do.”
Yeah, he knew. Reaver had told him that only an angel could kill an angel… with one exception. If one drained an angel to death, they would temporarily inherit the ability to destroy another angel. The catch was that no one could drain an angel of blood—unless the angel volunteered.
Wraith hoped it didn’t come down to that. He kinda liked Reaver.
“Got it,” Wraith said, and started walking, but Reaver stopped him again. “Geez, what this time?”
“Kynan. You must give Kynan the amulet. Not anyone else in The Aegis. Understood?”
“No.”
Reaver made an exasperated noise. “This is all fated,” he said, waving at the army around them. “I don’t know how this will end—the battle is fated, the outcome is not. But Kynan’s fate is tied closely with these events.”