Page 17

CHAPTER 17

T he pre-dawn air crackled with power as Camael led his Angels of Retribution toward St. Louis Cathedral. His massive wings cut through the darkness while reports flowed in from teams positioned across the city. The Dark Warriors able to be out during the day had secured the perimeter. They’d taken up positions that would give them clear lines of sight on any approach. The Rowan sisters were there and already weaving containment spells to keep the humans away from the area. Their power hummed through the Quarter like a live wire.

His ice-blue eyes locked onto Amelia. She was cradled against his chest as they soared. The Key blazed at her throat like captured lightning. Her hybrid magic channeled both light and shadow like she'd been born to it. Pride and fear went to war in his chest. She was lethal perfection, but every corrupted angel in the Big Easy could track that power signature. And then there was Jace’s comment about her body not being built to handle the shit.

"You holding up?" he asked as they banked around Jackson Square. The place was dead empty .

"Flying high." That smile of hers lit up the pre-dawn dark better than stadium floodlights. "Next time though? We schedule this shit for noon. Mama needs her beauty sleep."

His chuckle was cut off when Rami's voice crackled through their comms link. "I’ve got movement! There are multiple signatures approaching from the north. I think they used to be the fledglings."

"Give me numbers," Camael demanded as he adjusted their flight pattern.

"At least fifteen- no, wait." His pause was filled with tension. "I've confirmed visual on thirty-plus former fledglings. They’re warped warriors now. Not kids."

"There’s something else," Jo cut in, her voice tight. "It could be Jeremiel."

Camael's blood ran cold as a familiar presence brushed his senses. Even corrupted, he'd know that grace anywhere. "It’s him."

His brother's twisted power pulsed from the cathedral steps like a beacon of darkness. The once-pure energy had been transformed into something that reminded him of Lucifer in the early days after his fall. It called to the chaos the demons loved so much.

"Remember the plan," he growled to his warriors as they approached. His wings spread wider and created updrafts that carried his voice. "The priority is extracting any fledglings you find. Do not engage Jeremiel directly. He's mine."

"Like hell," Amelia muttered in his arms. "You're not facing him alone."

"This isn't up for discussion, witch." His voice dropped. "He’s my brother. My problem."

"Our problem," she corrected. "Or did you forget that you’re no longer alone?"

Her words jolted him and threatened to twist his world view. Before he could delve into those feelings or argue further, the cathedral rose before them. Its spires stretched dark against the lightening sky like accusing fingers. Power rolled off the ancient stones in waves that would have brought lesser beings to their knees. Jeremiel had chosen his ground well. The sacred site's natural energy would amplify whatever ritual he was attempting.

They landed in Jackson Square and spread out in practiced formation. He set Amelia down and had to bite his tongue from admonishing her to be careful. The Angels of Retribution moved like the elite warriors they were, and he needed to get ahead of them. Amelia joined the Rowan sisters, who had taken up positions that would give them the best coverage for their spells. The Dark Warriors melted into shadows.

Camael's Sword of Light blazed to life in his grip as his brother emerged from the cathedral's shadows. The sight of what Jeremiel had become made his ancient heart ache with lost possibilities. Gone were the pristine white wings that had once rivaled Michael's for beauty. In their place spread appendages of twisted darkness. He was still undergoing his transformation because each feather was leaking corruption like toxic smoke.

"Welcome, brother." Jeremiel's voice scraped through the air like broken glass on a chalkboard. "Come to witness the rebirth of everything?"

"I've come to stop you." Camael moved forward. He was careful to keep himself between his brother and Amelia despite her sound of protest. "Return the fledglings, and I'll make your death quick."

Jeremiel's laugh could have frozen hellfire. "Still so righteous. So sure of your place in the natural order." His black wings spread wider. Holy hell. The darkness writhing through them seemed to eat light itself. "But what if I told you this was always meant to happen? "

"I'd say the fall has rotted your brain along with your grace." Camael's wings mantled as the power built between them. The air grew thick enough to choke on. "Where are the kids, Jeremiel?"

"Safe. Transforming." His brother's smile was pure nightmare fuel. "Their pure grace is the perfect catalyst for what comes next. Did you really think this was just about building an army?"

Understanding hit Camael as pieces clicked into place. "Lucifer. This was his plan all along."

"He understands what needs to be done." Jeremiel gestured. The air behind him rippled like heat waves over asphalt. It tore like wet paper, revealing glimpses of what lay beyond. "The barriers between worlds are weakening. Soon, what existed before will reclaim its domain," he finished.

"You're insane," Camael barked before he attacked.

He launched himself at Jeremiel and was intercepted. His heart ached with every swipe of his sword through the flesh of the innocent fledgling angels. They hadn’t chosen to do Jeremiel’s bidding. He had no choice but to carve through them. His wings burned white-hot against the pre-dawn sky as he tried to reach Jeremiel who watched with a smirk. Beneath him, bodies dropped like dark meteors. Their crumpled forms leaked their corrupted grace like oil slicks. It was a sickening sight. And had him seeing red. He would have Jeremiel’s head for this.

The battlefield around St. Louis Cathedral had become ground zero for this battle. Corrupted angels moved with unnatural speed. Their evil energy warped the very air around them. The cathedral's ancient stones cracked under the force of their clashing powers. Stained glass shattered in kaleidoscope patterns as angels crashed through windows and walls.

"They've got heavy hitters on the north side!" Rami's voice cut through the tactical channel as three corrupted Seraphim descended on his position. Their wings dripped shadow. "I need backup?—"

"On it." Camael banked hard. His blade sung as his flaming steel met flesh. Black grace bled from fatal wounds as more fell. Their dying screams would haunt him for the rest of his days.

Camael winced when one of the dead collided with a Dark Warrior. They fought in tight formation below, making it hard to look out for them. Thankfully, the male popped up and continued fighting before the angel going after him could land a blow.

"Push to the tower!" Amelia's voice carried power as she and the Rowan sisters fought in perfect sync.

Pema took point. Her offensive spells detonated like mystical grenades while Isis and Suvi maintained their shields against waves of malevolent power. Amelia froze corrupted angels mid-flight. Camael could see her tears when their wings shattered like black glass. Isis's power cut through their ranks like invisible blades. The witches moved like they'd been fighting together for centuries. They covered each other's blind spots with lethal efficiency.

His real target moved like poisoned lightning through the melee. Jeremiel's wings had gone midnight black and were trailing toxic smoke. Each beat of those twisted pinions left tears in reality that sealed themselves.

"Brother." The word dripped with false warmth as Jeremiel's blade—once pure celestial steel, now corrupted black—cut through the air where Camael's head had been. "Join us. I don’t want to have to kill you."

Their weapons clashed with enough force to shatter every remaining window in the cathedral. Each strike reverberated up through Camael’s arms. Jeremiel was far stronger than he should have been this early in his transition. Lucifer must have given him something special.

"You've lost your mind." Camael's counter-strike left trails of white fire as they took their fight skyward. The pre-dawn air crackled, and thunder boomed with each clash of their blades. "Those fledglings were innocent."

"They were necessary." Jeremiel's laugh carried echoes of the void as he launched a combination that would have gutted a lesser angel. His corrupted blade moved faster than thought. Each strike was aimed at vital points. "You still don't see the big picture."

Below them, the battle intensified. Dark Warriors and loyal angels fought back-to-back against waves of Jeremiel’s minions. The ground was turning slick with the black goo of spilled grace. The Rowan sisters' magic lit up the battlefield like lightning while Amelia's hybrid power blazed paths through the chaos. Camael watched her race into the church. His heart lurched. He was torn between fighting Jeremiel and going after her.

"The north tower is secure." Amelia's voice carried through the comm link. It was tight with exhaustion and grief. "Nineteen survivors, five... five we were too late for."

That split-second of distraction was all Jeremiel needed. Pain exploded through Camael's left side as Jeremiel’s weapon found its mark between his ribs. Black corruption spread into the wound like poison. Camael’s power instinctively fought against it. It was pure agony. Jeremiel twisted the blade, sending fresh waves of pain through his system.

"You always did care too much." Jeremiel's voice carried triumph as Camael's wing beats faltered. "That's why you'll lose. That's why you'll watch it all come undone. Next time we meet, brother? Everything unravels."

"Jeremiel!" Camael's roar of rage shook the heavens when Jeremiel took off like a bullet. Camael tried to follow, but the wound in his side slowed him just enough that the bastard escaped.

Camael landed hard on the cathedral grounds. His wings drooped as he tried to lift his sword. Around him, the aftermath of war painted a grim picture. Bodies of corrupted angels lay where they'd fallen. It was going to take every angel, Dark Warrior, and witch in the city to put the place back together. Thankfully, Pema was already taking charge on that front. That left him to deal with the rest. How many angels had they lost?

"Status report!" He barked as Dark Warriors began working on clean up.

"The fight is done," Rami reported as he gestured to the Rowan sisters. "They’ve got the survivors contained. But their grace is seriously fucked up."

"We can cleanse them," Amelia said as she made her way to his side. Her eyes widened at the sight of his wound. "Shit, you're injured?—"

"It'll heal." Camael pulled her close despite the pain. He needed her anchoring presence. "Focus on the fledglings. How many can we save?"

"About half of them." Pema's voice was tight with controlled fury. "The others... the corruption had already gone too deep. I’m afraid there’s nothing left to save."

Camael shook his head. “We aren’t giving up on them just yet. We need to take out Jeremiel before we make that determination." His wings spread wide as he faced his gathered forces. He had to ignore the pain in his side. "There’ll be no more reacting. No more playing defense. We find the bastard, and we end this. Today."