Not yet, asshole.
Wraith closed his hand around the hilt of a knife and swung. It plunged into the male’s neck, in the soft spot between his neck and shoulder. Blood spurted, and an unholy scream issued from the hellish depths of the demon’s body. He released Wraith, but the knife didn’t slow him down. His eyes glowed crimson, and shit, his entire body began to glow. And grow. And morph.
Fuck a motherfucking fuckduck. Byzamoth wasn’t your average spawn of hell. He was a fallen fucking angel. Time to haul ass.
Wraith charged to the door, just as Serena rushed over the threshold. “What’s happening?”
“Go!” he yelled. “Now!”
She dove back through the door, and he was right on her heels. An infuriated roar followed them, so powerful Wraith felt a blast of heat scorch his back. He grabbed his bags in one hand and Serena’s wrist in the other and sprinted down the street. Ahead, a man was getting into his car. Wraith shoved the guy out of the way, took his keys, and pushed Serena into the vehicle.
The guy cursed at Wraith in Arabic as Serena scrambled into the passenger seat. Wraith ignored him, leaped into the driver’s seat, and started the car.
In the rearview mirror, he saw the angel coming after them… looking like a massive gargoyle with big fucking teeth and giant-ass wings… scratch that: only one wing. He gunned the engine and peeled out of there, driving like a madman until they reached the train station.
“What was that thing?”
“Byzamoth. He’s a fucking fallen angel.”
“Holy shit.”
“Pretty much.”
“Did it… did he… kill the Regent?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, God.” She fingered her necklace as she twisted around to peer through the rear window. “Josh?”
“What?” Wraith screeched around a corner and slammed the car into a parking space.
“Why would Byzamoth have been there?”
“Because he knew you…” Oh, shit.
“Yeah. He knew I was going to the Regent’s place.”
They locked gazes, because he knew where this was headed. Only a few people in The Aegis would have known her plans. “You weren’t booked for this train, right? So no one knows we’ll be on it?”
“No.” She shook her head. “Only Val. I was supposed to be on tomorrow’s.”
Wraith shouldered the backpacks and got out of the car, but for some reason, he didn’t feel relieved.
Reaver’s blood ran freely from his wrists as he kneeled on Mount Megiddo—Har-megiddo, as he’d always known it. His blood was not the first to be spilled here, nor would it be the last. Battles had been fought at Megiddo since ancient times, and the valley below would, someday—maybe soon—become the gathering place for armies who would engage in the ultimate battle between good and evil
Night was falling, but the sky was already dark with roiling clouds. He’d stirred up the Heavens with his presence—and his request.
He waited, his blood forming twin rivers that snaked along the hard-baked soil and around jagged chunks of stone. Spots formed in front of his eyes and nausea swirled in his stomach. If no one appeared before him, he could die, and this was not the way he wanted to go.
Any fallen angel willingly drained of his blood would know eternal torment at Satan’s side. Worse, all hope for Reaver to return to Heaven would be lost.
“You dare to petition me?” The booming voice resonated through his head, ringing painfully in his ears.
Reaver didn’t look up at the owner of the voice, the angel Gethel. He was no longer allowed to view any who still Served. Instead, he kept his gaze on the ground that grew damp with his blood.
“I deemed this to be worthy of your attention,” he answered carefully.
“I will be the judge of that.”
“Of course.” A wave of dizziness washed over him, and he wondered if she’d let him bleed out. “The Sentinel, Serena, is in danger.”
“We are aware of that.”
“What is being done?”
“We cannot interfere.”
He knew there were restrictions on how much help angels could provide until the situation crossed out of the realm of human free will and into a true crisis of good and evil. But Serena needed help.
“I could go to her—”
Lightning flashed. Thunder ripped through Reaver’s brain, shattering his eardrums. Pain screamed through his head and his wrists, as the blood that had been streaming turned to ropes that secured him to the parched earth.
“You will not go near her.”
“Something must be done!” Reaver lifted his head. He was done begging and cowering like a whipped dog.