A low, rumbling growl erupted from Wraith before he could stop it. “I’m going to rip his throat out with my teeth.”
“Good. It needs to happen now.” Eidolon ran a hand through his hair, which stuck up in wild tufts, as if he’d been doing that all day. “He’s going to use the amulet he took from Serena and your blood to open up a gate between Heaven and Sheoul.”
“Ah… that’s bad.”
“You think?” Shade drawled.
Eidolon put his fingers to Wraith’s wrist, checking his pulse. “Reaver said he’ll make his move at dawn.”
“Where?”
“Jerusalem,” Shade said. “The Temple Mount.”
Made sense. If Byzamoth was going to pull off something like that, the Temple Mount was the place to do it. Many humans and demons alike believed the Foundation Stone, which was housed at the Temple Mount inside the Dome of the Rock, was where creation had begun and where Armageddon would kick off.
Wraith took his arm back from E. “I’ll go after him.”
“Not alone.” E tossed him a pair of jeans. “The Aegis is mobilizing. Every cell that can arrive in Jerusalem by dawn will be there, as well as the R-XR and every sister paranormal military unit in the world.”
Wraith came to his feet and pulled on the pants. “Sounds like you don’t need me.”
“Byzamoth can’t be defeated without you.” Tayla stood in the doorway, dressed for battle in leather—a dark red color that many demon species couldn’t see, and hair pulled into a ponytail. “Underground rumblings indicate that he’s mobilized his own army. The Aegis might not be able to get through his horde to get to him.”
“But I’m charmed and they can’t touch me.” Not unless the army was made up of fallen angels.
“Exactly. Kynan and I have been coordinating our attack plan with that of The Aegis and military units. We need you to at least keep him from performing the ritual until we can get to him.”
“And what are you going to do when you get there? News flash, slayer; he’s immortal.”
“We’re going to do the same thing you are. Hurt him. Keep him from performing the ritual and take the amulet back. According to Reaver, he’s got only a few minutes to open the gate.” She grinned. “Besides, The Aegis does have a few tricks up its sleeve. So keep him busy until we get there.”
“You won’t need to get to him,” Wraith swore, “because I’m taking his fucking head off. Even immortals have issues with decapitation.” He swung around to E. “Now tell me about Serena.”
“Wraith—”
“Now.”
E and Shade exchanged glances, and Wraith braced himself for the worst. “You know she’s dying.”
“Yeah. Fix it.” Shade moved toward him, but Wraith backed up, unable to bear any touch but Serena’s right now. And he knew damn good and well she wouldn’t be touching him. She hated him. She had to. “How… how is she?”
Eidolon gave a dismal shake of the head. “Her disease is irreversible, and it’s progressing fast.”
Wraith felt like he’d been stabbed in the gut. Again.
“I’ve given her something for the pain, and Shade’s been getting inside and forcing her organs to work optimally, but the effects of both are temporary. It’s only buying her time and making her more comfortable.”
“We traded places,” Wraith murmured, rubbing his chest where he could already feel the loss. “What am I going to do without her?”
“I’m sorry, bro,” Shade said, but Wraith held up his hand, not wanting to hear it. Hearing it would make it real.
He brushed past Tayla and came to an abrupt halt at the sight of a dark-haired male sitting in the hallway, his arms and legs bound in Bracken Cuffs—chains used by the Judicia to negate a demon’s abilities while in custody.
The dude was wearing leather pants and boots, but no shirt.
His dermoire appeared to be faded, but it was an exact replica of the markings Wraith and his brothers wore, minus their individual signs. And he had a strange, palm-shaped burn scar over his heart.
Wraith didn’t know what the hell was up, but right now, he really didn’t care.
Serena could have very little time left, and Wraith wasn’t going to waste a single minute.
Twenty-six
Serena was in the bathroom when she heard the bedroom door open. Her heart gave a great thump at the whisper of feet on the floor. Maybe it was Eidolon or Shade coming to do whatever they were doing to make her feel better when they touched her. It was about that time. She was growing weak again, and the pounding in her head was making her vision blur.
“Serena?”
Oh, God. Josh. Maybe if she didn’t say anything, he’d go away.
“Serena. Come out.” There was a long pause. “Please.”
She couldn’t face him. She was still too angry, too hurt, too damned conflicted. She stood there at the sink, quietly studying her face, the dark circles under her glassy, red-rimmed eyes, her strawlike, mussed hair, her sallow complexion. God, she really was dying.