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Beside me, Sean shifted his weight almost imperceptibly into a fighting stance. His face was hard, jaw clenched tight enough that I could see the muscle jumping beneath the skin. Sterling and Hawk remained deadly still, veterans who knew better than to telegraph their movements to a predator. The tension in the air was thick enough to choke on, a pressure building like the moments before a thunderstorm breaks.

Cassiel moved beside me, his expression unreadable but his presence suddenly more tangible, more weighted. The air around the angel seemed to ripple faintly, like heat rising from asphalt, the only visible sign of the immense power contained within his human vessel. For a moment, I thought I saw the shadow of wings against the wall behind him, massive and imposing, before the illusion faded.

Asmodeus's smirk deepened, his attention shifting to Cassiel with languid interest. “Now this is unexpected.” He eyed Cassiel with a slow, knowing gaze that suggested layers of history between them. “An exile wearing Heaven's rags. I thought you had vanished into obscurity.”

Exile? The word landed like a revelation. Not just a rogue angel acting on his own initiative, but one cast out from the celestial ranks. I glanced at Cassiel, searching for confirmation or denial, but the angel's face remained impassive, carved from stone.

“You talk too much,” Cassiel replied, his voice carrying an edge I had never heard before—ancient and cold as the spaces between stars. There was history there, old wounds and older grudges, the kind that only immortal beings could cultivate over centuries.

Asmodeus laughed, the sound echoing unnaturally in the cavernous space of the church. The stone walls seemed to absorb the laughter and reflect it back distorted, like the space itself was corrupted by his presence. “Oh, but this is just getting interesting. The marked one, the Nephilim, and Heaven's disgraced watchdog—all together for the final act.” He spread his hands in a gesture of mock appreciation. “It's almost poetic.”

“Cut the crap,” Sean growled, his hand hovering near his weapon. “What do you want?”

“Want?” Asmodeus raised one perfect eyebrow. “I want what I've always wanted. The final seal. The Heart. I know you have it.”

I saw Sterling shift his weight slightly, angling his body to block the line of sight—a protective gesture, instinctive—but it was enough to confirm what Asmodeus already suspected.

“Ah,” Asmodeus smiled. “There it is.”

He stepped forward, his movements too smooth, too perfect—a predator playing with its food. “I could just take what I want. But where's the fun in that?” His voice was silk sliding over steel, a velvet glove concealing a blade.

A snap of his fingers and suddenly, a dozen copies of him filled the room, identical smirks stretched across each face. They surrounded our group in a loose circle, each version of Asmodeus precisely the same down to the last detail.

“Find me,” Asmodeus challenged, his voice now coming from everywhere at once, a disorienting chorus of perfect synchronization. “But let's make it interesting.” He snappedhis fingers again, the sound ricocheting off the stone walls. “Invisible Hellhounds. I hope you like surprises.”

The duplicates began to move, circling slowly like sharks scenting blood. My mark burned hotter, a dull searing sensation that spread through my veins like venom. The newly restored soul inside me recoiled, as if trying to retreat from something it recognized as pure evil.

“You can surrender now,” the nearest Asmodeus offered, his tone conversational, reasonable. “Give me the Heart, and I'll call off the hounds. No one else has to die today.”

“Like that's gonna happen,” Sterling muttered, his gruff voice steady despite the danger. His fingers curled around the handle of his axe, a weapon that had been through more supernatural battles than most hunters had lived to talk about.

All twelve Asmodeus faces smiled in perfect unison, the effect deeply unsettling. “Oh, I keep my promises. It's the fine print you should worry about.” The smile widened, revealing teeth that seemed too white, too sharp for a human mouth. “As you're about to discover.”

A snarl echoed through the air, seemingly from nowhere and everywhere at once. The sound raised the hairs on the back of my neck, triggering a primal fear response.

Sterling barely dodged in time, a deep gash appearing across his arm from an unseen claw. Blood bloomed through the fabric of his shirt, vivid red against the faded plaid. He staggered back, clutching the wound, his face pale with shock and pain.

“First blood,” every Asmodeus commented simultaneously, their voices layered into a chorus that seemed to vibrate in my skull. “Who's next, I wonder?”

I moved on instinct, cracking my Heavenly Lash toward the space where I thought the hellhound might be. The weapon hummed through the air, its celestial energy casting brief,flickering illumination as it moved—but the lash hit nothing but empty space, whistling harmlessly through air.

“Dammit,” I muttered, recalling the whip. My eyes scanned the floor, looking for any disturbance.

Hawk swore, spinning to face a threat he couldn't see. “How the hell are we supposed to fight what we can't even see?” His eyes darted around the room, tracking the subtle disturbances in the air that might betray the hellhounds' positions.

Sean fired a shot toward one of the Asmodeus copies, but the bullet passed through harmlessly, the illusion rippling slightly before resolidifying. “Son of a bitch!” he growled, adjusting his grip on his gun. “How do we know which one is real?”

“That's the game,” all twelve Asmodeus replied in perfect unison, their smiles widening. “Better figure it out quickly. My pets are getting hungry.”

Another growl, closer this time, followed by the click of claws against stone—the only warning before something massive and invisible lunged at me from the side.

I tried to dodge, but the hellhound was too fast. Claws raked across my ribs with savage force, tearing through jacket and shirt to find flesh beneath. The impact drove the air from my lungs in a harsh gasp, sending me staggering sideways into a broken pew. Hot blood immediately soaked my shirt, but worse was the burning sensation that followed—hellhound venom, supernatural and toxic, entering my system.

The pain was electric, a shock that cut through the strange disconnection I'd felt since getting my soul back. For a moment, everything was crystal clear, every sense heightened by adrenaline and agony.

“Cade!” Sean's voice cut through the fog beginning to form at the edges of my vision. He was at my side in an instant, one hand on my shoulder to steady me.

“I'm fine,” I lied, pressing my hand against the wound. Blood seeped between my fingers, warm and slick. The wound burned like acid, hellhound venom already working deeper.