Page 50 of Alastair

“Hello,” a deep voice said. “This is the archangel Michael calling you on a device called a smartphone. The age of technology is truly fascinating, is it not?”

My eyes shut, and I took a deep breath. As if my morning wasn’t already off to a bothersome start. “How did you get this number.”

“Your friend Baxter! We chatted after the meeting two days ago. He said you enjoy speaking on this device and to call you anytime. This is my first time using one, but it’s quite beneficial when I need to reach you about concerning matters.”

I made a mental note to kill Baxter later.

“What do you want, oh great captain?”

The sarcasm went over Michael’s head. “The mortal realm is in quite the predicament, as I’m certain you are aware of by now. Purah has awoken the dead, and Vepar is stirring up deadly storms.” The whooshing of wind caused his voice to cut in and out.

“Are you flying right now?”

“Yes. I’m on my way to the island but wanted to update you prior to my arrival. I dispatched units to places being hit the worst with the walking corpses and called King Nikolai about the city closest to his kingdom being pelted by a blizzard of epic proportions. He agreed to send his warriors there to provide aid to the mortals.”

“The ice dragons have power over the snow,” I said, catching on to this reasoning. “Smart. They can combat Vepar’s power. In theory, anyway.”

“I’m glad you agree,” Michael said, and the wind caused more static. “I would prefer us to work together rather than constantly butt heads. I’m not your enemy, Pride.”

Michael had already taken action against the threat. He’d made tactful decisions without me. I braced myself for the anger, or at least the annoyance, that was sure to follow that realization. However, the only thing I felt right then was an odd sense of relief.

Relying on other people was hard—so was trusting them to make the right calls—but breathing came a bit easier now that I didn’t have to make all those decisions on my own. It allowed me to focus on what mattered: defeating Lucifer.

“How do I end the line of communication?” Michael then asked, and more wind pelted the receiver, causing me to hold the phone away from my ear. “Ah. I think this button—”

The call disconnected.

I stared at the screen before putting my phone away.

A thump sounded on the back terrace before Raiden and Titan appeared on the other side of the sliding glass door. And—bless them—carried what could only be Raiden’s breakfast cake that consisted of blueberry, cinnamon, and coffee with a lemon glaze.

The morning was looking up.

By midday, my stress headache had lessened. Michaelmaybewasn’t as bad as I’d once believed. He’d been a lot of help, as had our allies. After meeting with Sirena about the force of warriors she’d sent to Cairo to deal with a ghoul infestation, I flew to Daman and Bellamy’s villa to check in.

Lycus, the alpha of the werewolves in Transylvania, had reached out to Daman about demon attacks.

I landed beside the pool and tucked in my wings. “What’s the situation?”

Warrin reclined in a lawn chair beneath the shade of a tree, an e-reader in his hand. He and I shared a love of reading, though he preferred fantasy and science fiction, so we didn’t often exchange recommendations.

“Lycus says demons were using the nexus in the forest to cross over,” Daman answered, sitting between Warrin’s legs and leaning back against him. “The pack put a stop to that. Lycus has the clearing secured. No demons will get past them.”

“Good,” I said. “Locking down the dimensional gate will prevent anything worse from coming through.”

“The spirits are helping too.” Daman rested his head on Warrin’s chest and looked at the e-reader screen. He had said it so casually. Then again, he had grown up with those spirits—befriended them.

Daman had once lived in what many had dubbed the creepiest forest in Transylvania: Hoia Baciu. With its misshapen trees that grew in zigzag patterns and spiraled in a clockwise direction, causing those who wandered inside to become disoriented, as well as the twisted foliage and ghost sightings, the forest more than lived up to its reputation.

“Shit, how is this December?” Daman tilted his head back. “It’s too damn hot. I miss our cottage.”

“We will return home one day, kotya.” Warrin nuzzled his dark hair. “Armen is taking good care of it in our absence.”

“You feeling okay, Commander?” Daman stroked Warrin’s jaw, his brow furrowed. “We can go inside.”

Ice dragons didn’t handle heat well, but Warrin had shown little outward discomfort. As a warrior, that was ingrained in him.

“I’m right where I want to be,” Warrin responded, leaning into his touch. “Though, if you wish to cool off in the pool, I’ll never turn down the opportunity to see you wet.”