Wraith rolled his eyes. If there was anything he hated more than cryptic shit, it was fate shit. “Whatever. Let’s go kick Byzamoth’s ugly, and I mean ugly, ass.”
They entered the Dome of the Rock, easily shoving away the burly, horned Ramreel guards. They didn’t have to worry about the fallen angel’s minions following; few demons would set hoof in so holy a building. They feared God more than they feared any fallen angel.
Even Wraith twitched uncomfortably in the mosque, where bright tiles and glass mosaics spelled out Qur’anic verses and religious depictions. Byzamoth stood near the center next to the giant Foundation Stone, his gaze fixed on the ceiling, an evil, ecstatic smile curving his mouth.
The sounds of battle erupted outside—Wraith’s entrance had been the signal for The Aegis and militaries to launch their attack.
“Byzamoth.” Reaver moved next to Wraith, his skin glowing with a freakish white light.
Byzamoth’s eyes flew wide open. “Reaver?” He shifted his gaze to Wraith. “You. You live?”
“Nope. This is all in your imagination.” Wraith stalked toward him. “Hell of a way to get back into Heaven, don’t you think? When all you have to do is walk into the noon sun.”
“Fool. That only works if an angel hasn’t yet entered Sheoul.”
“My bad. I’m rusty on fallen angel rules. Don’t suppose they’ve got an Idiot’s Guide for that.” Wraith studied his nails. “But one thing I know? If you die, you’re gone for good. Poof. No redemption, no reincarnation, no nothing. Buh-bye.”
He launched a morning star so fast Byzamoth didn’t have a chance to block it. The star caught him in the shoulder, went right through and buried itself in a pillar.
Byzamoth yelped in pain, but he recovered in an instant. “Did you think it would be so easy?” He came at Wraith, feet not touching the ground.
Reaver met him head on, and they crashed together like two bulls. Light streaked with black voids swirled around them, encasing them in a supernatural funnel cloud as they grappled. Wraith hurled one of his daggers into the mix, aimed at the back of Byzamoth’s neck, but the weapon was caught up in the tornado and flung to the far side of the building.
Blood flew from the two angels, staining the vortex a gruesome red. The whirlwind imploded. Reaver flew through the air, coming down in a heap that slid across the floor, leaving a crimson trail.
Wraith attacked Byzamoth, ripping powerful punches into the male’s face. A knee to the groin earned a satisfying roar of pain. A bolt of energy slammed into Wraith’s chest, knocking him into the railing surrounding the Foundation Stone.
Wet tearing sounds filled the mosque as Byzamoth shifted into his grotesque gargoyle form. His one wing rose up high over his head, the clawed tip coming down to clamp on Wraith’s head.
Pain screamed through Wraith as sharp, serrated claws dug into his skull. Blood streamed down his face, and rage streamed through his veins. Snarling, he dropped to his knees and lunged sideways, breaking Byzamoth’s hold. He rolled, avoiding what would have been a bone-breaking stomp to the hip.
Wraith pivoted on his hand, sweeping his legs out for his own devastating kick. He caught the male in the knee, and though Byzamoth grunted, he didn’t go down. Scrambling to his feet, Wraith dashed blood out of his eyes. In the distance, the air sang with the clank of weapons, the thud of fists striking flesh, and the screams of demons and humans in mortal pain.
“It’s beautiful music, is it not?” Byzamoth edged sideways, keeping his body between the Foundation Stone and Wraith. Lightning flashed and thunder rocked the ground. Outside the dome, an evil storm spun up black twisters and blood-red rain. Through a single hole in the Heavens came a golden stream of light, but in a heartbeat, the roiling clouds extinguished it.
Byzamoth opened his fist to reveal Serena’s necklace and a vial of blood. Wraith’s blood. “The sun has cast its first and last rays. It’s time. Reconsider your fight, incubus. Stand with me, and you will reap unimaginable rewards.”
“As tempting as it sounds to be your bitch,” Wraith drawled, “I’m going to have to turn down that offer.”
He launched himself at the angel. Byzamoth’s wing caught him in the shoulder, knocking him off balance, but somehow, he stayed upright. They fought like fiends, with Wraith coming out on top every time they broke apart.
But Wraith was bleeding badly, one leg wasn’t working right, and he was sucking air with a lot more effort than he’d like.
Byzamoth looked as if he’d gone for a pleasant jog. “I can’t be killed, filthy demon.”
“You’re pretty judgmental with the demon thing,” Wraith said through panting breaths. “Given that you are a demon.”
Evil laughter bounced off the walls of a place so holy that they seemed to writhe under the sound. “I’m better than demon scum.”
“Holier than thou is kinda funny coming from a fallen angel.”