THANE RETURNED TO ZACHAREL’S cloud with a dossier about Annabelle Miller’s very short, very miserable life. The new leader of the Army of Disgrace, as so many of their peers had begun to call them, accepted it with his customary politeness. Meaning, none at all. Zacharel was as cold as always, offering no murmurs of thanks but giving a curt nod of dismissal.
More and more, Thane actually liked the warrior’s directness. Liked Zacharel, too, and that was a fact that shocked him to the marrow of his bones. He hadn’t been part of an actual army for more than a hundred years, and he never would have joined another if his Deity had not commanded him to follow Zacharel…or else.
At first, Thane had seethed. How dare anyone tell him how to spend his time? If he wanted to laze in bed, seduce any female that caught his eye and fight every demon he encountered, he would. But what he decided, his boys decided. They were one for all and all for one, or however the humans said it. That’s how things worked with the three of them. He, Bjorn and Xerxes were in this together, whatever this happened to be, and he could not allow them to rebel because he could not allow them to suffer the consequences. Thane could endure anything but that.
Now, three months into their new arrangement, he was suddenly glad he had not rebelled. Well, he had rebelled against Zacharel with little insults here and there, but he had also joined the army rather than fall. He realized the lack of leadership and structure had rubbed him raw, that his life had been nothing but a chaotic mess and he’d needed order somewhere.
Thane flew to The Downfall, a pleasure house in the Deity’s section of the heavens. Over the centuries, more and more of the Deity’s angels had succumbed to temptations of the flesh. They had needed a place to indulge without judgment from anyone but themselves, and so Thane had given them one.
The Downfall belonged to him. He, Bjorn and Xerxes lived there, as did the immortal lovers they kept. Lovers that never lasted long, for each male preferred new and different.
Despite this proclivity, they had not yet warranted the ultimate fall, though Thane knew they teetered on the brink.
Angels in the Deity’s faction fell from grace because they welcomed evil into their hearts, because they habitually cheated, stole, lied—yes, it was possible—or committed cold-blooded murder. Because they succumbed to the follies of hatred, envy, fear or pride, or because they refused to turn away from some sort of depravity.
They were not to aid a demon, or seek revenge against another angel for a perceived offense. They were to bring their grievances before the Heavenly High Council.
Since Thane’s escape from a demon prison those hundred years ago, he and his boys had done everything but aid a creature of the dark. He wasn’t sure why they had been given this chance.
If they failed to correct their behavior, their sins would eventually catch up to them. He knew that. But still Thane could not bring himself to change. He was what the demons had made him.
Stars twinkled all around him as he landed on the roof of the towering building. He’d chosen brick-and-mortar rather than a cloud, for he’d suspected too many patrons would have taken advantage, commanding the cloud to produce all manner of illicit things. Plus, clouds were expensive. While he could afford one, and could have chosen to live separately from the club, he knew himself well enough to know that he, too, would have taken advantage.
Two doorways were accessible from the roof. One led to the club itself, and the other to his private chambers. Two angelic guards stood at attention on either side of both. He nodded to the pair in front of his personal entrance, and they moved aside. A mental command caused the wide double doors to glide open.