Page 5

CHAPTER 5

T he French Quarter didn't give a shit about Lucifer's plans. Camael figured that out real quick as he followed Amelia. They wove through streets that had seen three hundred years of history and were about to get a fresh coat of demon blood. The female moved like she was born for war. Her power crackled around her in waves that made his warrior's soul sit up and beg.

The night air was thick with corruption, booze, and tourist sweat. Music from Bourbon Street's endless party mixed with screams that weren't coming from drunk college kids. The usual scents of pralines and gumbo had been replaced by sulfur. Also, there was something that smelled like death had crawled up from the bayou and decided to throw a block party.

A familiar presence hit Camael's senses seconds before several figures materialized on the corner ahead of them. Izzy moved with the lethal grace of vampire royalty. Her black hair whipped around a face that carried her father's sapphire blue eyes and her mother's deadly beauty. The Dark Warriors flanked her like living shadows. Aison's massive form rippled with barely contained shifter energy. Slate's vampire speed left afterimages in the humid air. And Luke's sorcerer magic crackled blue-white around his hands while Micah swirled his blades.

"Heard you could use some backup," Izzy called out, her fangs flashing in a warrior's smile.

"Your timing's perfect, Cupcake," Rami called out. His eyes lit up at the sight of her even as he scanned the rooflines. The male had come a long way and forged one of the deepest bonds Camael had ever seen with the princess. He had to keep Izzy alive and act as her Guardian Angel to earn his AOR wings. "Lucifer might be making his move."

“That would explain why we got calls about increased demonic presence,” Izzy replied as she fell into step with Rami.

"You feel that?" Amelia called over her shoulder. Her dark hair whipped in the supernatural wind that had kicked up. Power danced around her hands like she was holding lightning.

Yeah, he felt it. The evil in the air was thicker than a po'boy and twice as messy. Lucifer's corruption was spreading through the Quarter like cancer. It was turning the usual tourist trap vibe into something that would give Stephen King nightmares.

"Boss, we've got problems on Bourbon. Big ones. Word is they aren't your brother's demons," Cass called out.

"Define big," Camael demanded as he scanned the rooflines. Movement caught his eye. Something with too many limbs was using Cafe du Monde's awning like a jungle gym.

Beside him, Aison's massive form rippled. Muscles bunched as he prepared to shift. The Pacific Islander's dark eyes tracked the movement above. His warrior's instincts were likely already calculating trajectories .

"Remember that thing in Detroit? The one that ate half a SWAT team?" Cass asked.

Camael had seen pictures. "Yeah."

"This is twice as ugly. And it has friends. Lots of them." A crash echoed through the line, followed by creative cursing in three dead languages. "Make that Dante's Inferno with backup dancers."

Camael cursed. They were spread thin enough to make cellophane jealous. They’d take these creatures out. Because that’s the thing about being Heaven's most feared fighting force... they knew you didn't get to pick your battles. Sometimes, the battles picked you, grabbed you by the celestial short hairs, and dragged you face-first into the crazy.

"Rally at Jackson Square," Camael ordered. His wings itched to manifest as more screams split the night. Human screams. Terrified screams. The kind that said someone had just seen something their brain couldn't process without a lot of therapy. "And somebody get eyes on whatever the hell is happening on Bourbon."

"Already on it." Jo replied as she gestured to her right. "Mal and Zach are working their way down from Canal.”

Malachi looked like he was about to take off and sighed. “Thank the goddess. The bastards aren’t trying to take out Pat O'Brien's. Like we'd let them destroy the home of the Hurricane."

"Priorities, Mal," Rami cut in as he moved to cover Izzy's flank. The vampire princess was dealing death with a grace that made battle look like dancing.

"Hey, some institutions are sacred," the Dark Warrior countered.

Luke shook his head. “We need to send a unit to Esplanade. The demons took out the Praline Connection. I just got a message that looks like a drunk bulldozer operator got loose in the building. "

"Az, Jo. Head over and see what you can do,” Camael ordered as he sliced through a massive pus demon. The thing smelled awful when burned.

The streets around them had emptied faster than a church during a Vegas weekend. Smart humans. They knew when to run. Even if they didn't know what they were running from. The ones who hadn't cleared out were about to get front row seats to a supernatural throwdown that would rewrite French Quarter ghost tours for the next century. That would be after Camael did some serious work altering memories. He wouldn’t be able to erase them completely. Some shit was embedded too deeply.

Slate's vampire speed became a blur as he cleared civilians from the danger zone. Luke's sorcery created barriers of blue-white energy to funnel the humans toward safety. Aison completed his shift. His massive black wolf form took up position beside Izzy.

A group of tourists huddled in a doorway. They had their phones out and were filming. Camael's curse could've peeled paint. "Seriously?" Amelia's power flared as she threw up a shield. It would obscure everything from their vantage point. "They're posting this shit to TikTok?"

"Social media is going to be the death of humanity," Camael muttered as he grabbed the tourists and shoved them toward Royal Street. "Get the hell out of here! Now!"

"But dude, is this like a movie shoot or something?" One of them actually tried to get a selfie with a demon in the background.

"Yeah, and you didn't sign the release forms. Move!" Camael altered the memory to make them think a drunk was chasing them and sent out a pulse to fry their phones.

His Sword of Light blazed to life in his grip as the first wave of demons hit them fully. These weren't your garden variety demons, either. These were old-school nasty. The kind that gave others nightmares. They slithered out of the sewers.

The Dark Warriors hit them in perfect formation. Aison's massive wolf form tore through demon flesh while Slate's vampire strength let him literally pull the creatures apart. Luke's sorcery created killing fields of arcane energy that turned demons to ash. And through it all, Izzy moved like a deadly arrow. Her father's royal vampire blood made her nearly invisible to even supernatural eyes, she was so fast.

"Well, shit," Amelia breathed beside him. Her hands were already glowing with that hybrid magic of hers. Light and shadow danced between her fingers like they'd never been separated. "I'm guessing these aren't tourists."

"What gave it away?" Camael drawled as he separated a demon's head from its shoulders. Black ichor sprayed across historic brick. The thing had the nerve to try growing a new head. He removed that one too. "The extra eyes or the tentacles?"

Her laugh was pure adrenaline and attitude. And damn if that didn’t make him want to kiss her. "The lack of cameras, actually. Tourists would be Instagramming this shit."

"Incoming on your six!" Cassiel shouted from behind them.

Camael instantly spun. His blade swung through the air as he bisected a demon resembling a cross between a praying mantis and a Great White shark. The thing's death scream shattered windows up and down the block. "These assholes are getting creative," he growled as three more took its place.

"You ain't seen nothing yet." Mal's voice carried over the sound of combat. "The ones up here? They're smarter than they look. They're learning from each hit."

Rami moved to cover Izzy's back as a particularly nasty demon tried to flank her. His blade took the thing's head while her power turned two more to ash. Their fighting styles complemented each other like they'd been training together for centuries. The creature that came up from behind dodged both their efforts and managed to slice open Rami’s leg. Mal wasn’t kidding. Demons who could think on their feet were about as welcome as holy water in Hell.

The fight carried them down Royal Street. Historic buildings watched with dead eyes as celestial steel met demon flesh. Spanish ironwork and French architecture became collateral damage. It was a war most humans wouldn't believe, even if you showed them video evidence.

Camael moved like the warrior he was. Each strike was precise and lethal, leaving little for them to learn from. His blade left trails of divine fire in its wake. Three demons rushed him from different directions. He took the first one apart at the joints, pivoted to remove the second one's head, then ran the third through before it could fully manifest its extra limbs.

Beside him, Amelia was poetry in motion. Her magic carved paths through demon ranks like they were made of smoke. Light and shadow worked in perfect harmony as she proved why she was more than just another witch. A particularly ugly bastard tried to flank her. It looked like someone had skinned a dragon and used the hide to make a suit for a creature that had too many bones. Camael's blade found its throat before it could strike.

"I had that one," she said as she turned a different demon into cosmic confetti.

"I know." He smirked as he put down two more. "Just admiring the view."

But for every one they put down, three more took its place. The corruption in the air was thicker now and made it hard to breathe. Even Camael's celestial lungs struggled with the toxic mix of demon magic and ancient evil.

"We've lost contact with Mal and Zach," Rami reported. His voice was tight with concern. "Last known position was Bourbon and St. Ann."

Son of a bitch. Camael's wings manifested as his power leaked out. The temperature around them dropped twenty degrees. "What’s the status on Jo and Az?"

"Holding the line on Decatur, but barely. These things are pains in the ass."

A scream from the direction of Bourbon Street cut through the night like a knife. It wasn't human. It wasn't demon, either. It was something that made Camael's ancient blood run cold.

"Move!" He grabbed Amelia and launched them both into the air as the building beside them exploded. Debris rained down like deadly confetti. His wings caught an updraft, carrying them above the chaos.

Below them, Izzy and the Dark Warriors moved as one unit. Aison's wolf form provided cover while Slate used his vampire speed to evacuate civilians from the blast radius. Luke's protective shields sparkled like starlight, deflecting the worst of the debris.

The view from above was enough to make a lesser being pray. Darkness writhed through the streets like living ink. Demons climbed buildings with impossible grace, using historic balconies like jungle gyms from hell. The French Quarter had become a war zone that would give Heaven's generals PTSD.

Camael squinted when he saw movement in the distance. Something massive was moving through the Quarter, leaving destruction in its wake. Each step it took made the ground shake. And cars bounced like toys.

"Holy mother of magic." Amelia's curse carried over the wind. "What the hell is that?"

Before Camael could answer, a burst of red caught his eye. Three streaks of crimson cut through the night sky like bloody comets. For a second, he thought it was some new demonic fuckery. Then he recognized the wings.

"About damn time," he muttered as three angels descended into the fray. Their wings were the color of fresh blood, marking them as members of Heaven's elite warriors.

Araton smirked at Camael and said, “We heard you could use some help.”

Camael shook his head and dropped back to the ground. Amelia immediately resumed fighting but was still able to ask, “Who are they? They aren’t yours.”

"Michael sent backup," Camael explained as they landed. "Meet Heaven's most coordinated killing machine."

"Triplets?" Amelia's eyebrows shot up. "I’ve never seen angels with red wings."

"They’re Michael’s warriors." Camael engaged another demon. His blade cut through the air.

Rami raced by just then, calling out to Izzy. "Get back to Les Auger," he told her. His voice carried an edge of concern that had nothing to do with battle. "Behind the wards. This is about to get uglier."

Izzy's blue eyes met his and carried promises that had nothing to do with war. "Try not to get yourself killed. We’ll take care of the stragglers on our way." She signaled to the other Dark Warriors. They fell back in perfect formation, covering her retreat.

The triplets hit the ground like divine wrecking balls. Araton moved like liquid violence. His celestial blade carved through demon ranks with surgical precision. Every strike was calculated, efficient, and absolutely lethal.

"Clear the perimeter!" his voice carried like a commander's. "Standard formation delta!"

Ayil was pure grace in motion. He danced through the fight like it was choreographed. Where his brother was all precision, Ayil was artistry. His blade spun and twirled and left trails of crimson energy that turned demons to ash.

"I’ve got movement on the rooflines," he called out. "They're trying to set up crossfire!"

And Abraxos fought like he had a personal grudge against gravity. He went vertical, running up walls and using balconies like springboards. His fighting style was pure improvisation. He made it impossible for the demons to predict his moves.

The battle shifted as the triplet’s presence changed the dynamic. What had been a desperate holding action became something else. Something with actual strategy. The demons found themselves caught between the AOR’s raw power and the triplet’s synchronized assault.

"The east side is secure!" Araton's voice cut through the chaos. His blade left trails of fire as he cleared Decatur Street.

"The west side needs backup," Ayil responded. He moved like a deadly dance through a group of demons that looked like someone had tried to mate porcupines with spiders. "They're trying to circle around through Pirates Alley."

"I've got the high ground," Abraxos called from his position on a balcony. He launched himself into a group of flying demons. His blade carved elegant arcs through corrupted flesh.

They pushed toward Jackson Square, where the darkness seemed thickest. The usual tourist hub had become ground zero for supernatural warfare. St. Louis Cathedral loomed over the battlefield like a silent witness to the carnage. A crash from his left drew Camael’s attention.

A woman burst out of a shop. She was clutching books to her chest like shields. Her dark hair was wild, and her eyes were wide with terror. But she moved with purpose, trying to reach a store across the street. The sign above it read "Crescent City Arcane” .

Abraxos was there before anyone else could move. The male materialized between the woman and an approaching demon. His red wings spread wide. They created a barrier of divine protection. Camael swore something passed between the two, but he couldn’t be sure the look actually carried more weight than a neutron star. It was chaotic around them.

Amelia hesitated and looked over when Abraxos growled, "Inside," to the woman. His voice carried that don't-argue-with-me tone that all warriors had mastered. "Now."

"My store," she protested. "The wards-"

"Will hold," he cut her off as another explosion rocked the Quarter. "Move!"

The woman had to be Sarah, the owner of the occult bookstore Camael had read about before setting up shop in the area. Camael caught sight of her as she ran for cover. He noted that Abraxos watched her go. Something flickered in the male’s ancient eyes that Camael recognized all too well. That was a problem for another night. Right now, they had a city to protect and a Prince of Lies to find and stop.