Damiel indicated the armored men, who were moving toward the angels, surrounded them. Where had they all come from?
One of the men stepped to the front, looking between Nero and this angel who looked a lot like Nero. He had the same hair as Nero, if not a tad darker, and his eyes were blue instead of green, but other than that, they might have been twins.
“Where is Wardbreaker?” the man demanded.
“Still buried where I left him, I presume,” Damiel said darkly.
“You took his place.”
Damiel met the man’s angry eyes were indifference. “There’s no need to feel all torn up about his death. You never even met him.”
The man’s hand waved the others forward. “You played us. Angel or not, you will come to regret that.”
“Take care of these men,” Damiel ordered Nero, moving toward the relics.
Nero moved into his path. “If it was you the whole time, then Osiris Wardbreaker never turned rogue?”
“We’ll discuss this later, after the battle.”
Nero gave his hand wrist a sharp flick, and a psychic blast cut through the room, slamming the twelve men against the wall, knocking them out.
“Battle’s over,” he said as the men slid to the ground behind him. “We’ll talk about this now. Did Osiris Wardbreaker go rogue?”
“Yes,” Damiel said in a tone that showed he was only humoring his son. His eyes passed over the men on the ground, and he looked mildly impressed. “I caught up with him about a week after his defection.” His gaze slid to me. “He was kidnapping young supernatural children and feasting on their blood. He enjoyed hearing their screams. And watching them die.
I choked on the image. Acid rose in my throat, and I barely kept it down. Damiel wasn’t even looking at his son. He was looking only at me.
“So trust me, I was doing the world a favor,” he finished.
He was probably right. Killing children, feeding on their blood and pain, was a crime I could not forgive. The world was better off without monsters like that in it.
“Trust you?” Nero shot his father a look of pure, undiluted loathing. “I don’t trust you. Not your words and definitely not with objects of power. I will not allow you to have them.”
“Insubordination does not suit you, soldier.”
“Insubordination? You’re the one who turned dark and betrayed the Legion,” Nero said. “I am not your soldier. You don’t give orders anymore.”
Damiel looked at me. “Make him see reason.”
“Don’t talk to her like you’re old friends.” Nero’s words bit like a whip. “You tortured her.”
“A means to an end.”
“Everything is always just a means to an end with you.”
Anger flashed in Nero’s eyes, splitting the final strands of his self-control. He rushed forward in a flash of supernatural speed, hammering his fist into his father’s jaw. He followed that up with another punch. Flames burst to life across his entire body. He’d lost it, truly and completely lost it.
Damiel struck back, throwing Nero across the room. Solid rock split and fissures where Nero’s back hit the wall, but he rolled himself around and kept going like he hadn’t felt a thing. He wasn’t feeling anything but his own anger. The angels fought without mercy or pause, their terrible, beautiful battle threatening to bring down the whole room.
Five armored men rushed into the chamber. Where were they coming from? They ignored the angels fight above and ran straight for the relics. I tossed magic powder on the gold coins that lay across the floor. The gold glowed orange, and smoke rose from the men’s shoes. They hopped in alarm, scrambling away from the gold. In their hurried retreat, one of them stumbled into the middle of the firefight between Nero and Damiel.
The others hopped and skipped between the glowing coins, trying to get to the relics. I grabbed hold of one guy’s arm, holding him there.
I stared into his eyes. “Shoot your comrades.”
The man nodded, taking a gun from the floor He aimed at the other men and fired. He knew exactly where the weaknesses in their armor were. After he’d shot them down, he froze for a moment, shaking his head. I could feel my control slipping away from his mind. I’d been through too much. I didn’t have enough power left in me. I lifted my hand to knock his gun away, but I was too slow. He shot me in the stomach.
I fell to my knees. Though blurry eyes, I saw him walk toward the relics. I pushed agains the weight of the impending blackout, struggling to my feet. I had to get to him. I had to stop him. He already had a piece of the silver armor in his hand.
A sword tip broke through his chest, piercing him from behind. He dropped dead to the ground. My eyes panned up, expecting to see Nero. But it wasn’t Nero. He and Valiant were still fighting up above.
Seconds passed. My mind struggled to stay unconscious. Blood dripped down my body. I blinked.
“How did you get down here?” I asked, blinking again.
My mind was slow, failing to possess what I was seeing. He wore the weapons of heaven and hell. The silver armor fitted his wide, masculine body as perfectly as it had fitted Sierra’s. He held a shield in one hand, a sword in the other.
“I wasn’t going to let anything stand between me and my relics,” Valiant said.
Flames flickered on the sword, hatred burned in his eyes.
“Thank you, Leda,” he said. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”
Then he swung the sword, blasting the angel-killing flames at the two angels.
19
Powerless
His aim was shit. The flames didn’t hit the angels, but they did get their attention. Nero and Damiel stopped fighting. Nero snapped out of whatever trance he’d been, and when he saw Valiant donning the weapons of heaven and hell, he grew dangerously still.
Valiant bother with banter. He went straight for the killing blowing. He swung the sword, shooting the blue flames at the angels again. Damiel used magic to block. Surprisingly, his spell dissolved the blue flames. Wasn’t the sword’s magic supposed to be stronger than an angel’s?
Valiant was clearly wondering the same thing. “Why are you working properly?” he demanded, shaking the sword. “Maybe it needs to warm it up.”
Nero and Damiel weren’t giving him a chance to test that theory. They blasted magic at him, trying to knock the sword out of his hand. The psychic spells slid uselessly against the silver armor. That seemed to be working. It was supposed to nullify enemy magic.
Encouraged by the armor’s success, Valiant blasted more blue fireballs at the angels, but Damiel super-shield held.
“I think you’re doing it wrong,” I commented.
“Shut up.” He shook the sword again.
He was focusing on the sword. His eyes weren’t on the angels. Damiel motioned to Nero to go right, and Nero nodded.