Page 6

CHAPTER 6

T he mansion's training room had seen better days. Hell, it had seen better hours. Amelia surveyed the destruction around her as she caught her breath. Scorch marks decorated the reinforced walls where her hybrid magic had gone wide. The expensive training mats were toast. Literally. Some were still smoking from her last attempt at merging light and shadow energy.

"Again." Camael's deep voice rolled through the space like thunder. The archangel stood behind her. He was close enough that his heat seeped into her bones. His massive frame was a solid wall of angelic warrior. And his presence did things to her concentration that had nothing to do with magic.

"I’m pretty sure your insurance doesn't cover 'witch loses control of ancient powers’," she muttered as she gathered energy once more. Light danced in her right palm while shadow swirled in her left. The two forces fought like cats in a bag and refused to merge.

"You're still treating them as separate entities." His hands settled on her shoulders. Holy mother of magic. That did not help her focus. "They're two halves of the same whole. Like dawn and dusk."

"Poetic." She closed her eyes and leaned back against him. "But a wrecking ball and a building don't engage in mutual destruction when they meet."

The Twilight Key hung heavily around her neck. Its metal was both warm and cool against her skin. The artifact pulsed with each attempt at merging the energies. Almost like it was keeping score of her failures. Some family heirloom it was turning out to be.

"You're thinking too much." His breath stirred her hair as he spoke. One of his hands slid down her arm to cover her right hand. Divine power surged between them at the contact. "Feel the balance point. The place where light bleeds into shadow."

The Key chose that moment to warm against her skin. It was quickly followed by images flooding her mind. They were ancient memories of her ancestors wielding these same powers. Camael was right. They didn't force the energies together. They let them dance and find their harmony like old lovers reuniting.

"Oh," she breathed as understanding clicked. Her hands moved through the air. She drew patterns she’d never been taught. It was knowledge that had been passed down in her blood, but she didn’t have access to it before now. Light and shadow responded. They wove together in a display that painted the training room in shades of twilight.

"That's it." Camael's voice dropped to a place that made her shiver. His power wrapped around her like a blanket as she worked magic she never knew existed. "Now, hold it."

She managed to maintain the merged energy for almost a minute before it destabilized. The resulting backlash sent them both stumbling. Camael's arms wrapped around her waist. He kept her upright as the power dissipated .

"Better," he rumbled. He didn't immediately release her. And she didn't try to pull away. "You're learning to trust your instincts."

"The Key helps." She touched the artifact, which hummed under her fingers. "It's like having a link to the supernatural instruction manual hardwired into my brain."

His chest thundered against her back. "Your ancestors left you more than just tools. They left you their knowledge."

Before she could respond, the Key pulsed with urgent energy. New images crashed through her mind. Scenes of battles fought with these same powers. She saw her ancestors defending the barriers between worlds. They used light and shadow in ways that made her current efforts look like parlor tricks.

"Shit," she gasped as the vision released her. Her knees buckled, but she didn’t fall. Camael's grip kept her steady. "That was... intense."

"What did you see?" His voice carried equal parts concern and curiosity.

"Fighting techniques. Ways to use both energies in combat. It was severe..." She trailed off as the Key warmed again. Power gathered around her hands without conscious thought. "Step back."

To his credit, Camael immediately gave her space. Keeping the images in mind, she moved through forms that felt as natural as breathing. It was a wild experience, considering she'd never practiced them. Light and shadow responded to each gesture. They formed weapons and shields that shouldn't exist.

A slow whistle from the doorway broke her concentration. "Now that's something you don't see every day," Rami observed. He was leaning against the frame with his arms crossed. He looked like violence taking a coffee break. There was talk of him putting off a trip to New York. She had no idea what that meant and hadn’t bothered asking. She wanted the warrior to stay there. They would need his help. She was afraid she wouldn’t be enough. In each of her visions, her ancestors were never alone.

"How long have you been there?" Amelia demanded as she let the energy dissipate.

"Long enough to see you channel some serious mojo." He pushed off from the door and entered the room. "The others are gathering upstairs. We need to talk about what's happening now in the Quarter."

While she'd been playing magical dress-up with powers that could possibly save the day, Lucifer wasn't exactly sitting on his ass with a mint julep. The Prince of Lies had switched up his game plan faster than a casino dealer with something to hide. No more demon hordes doing the supernatural equivalent of a Mardi Gras murder parade.

The bastard was going subtle, and that shit was scarier than a tax audit in May. The corruption was seeping through the Big Easy like poison in the bayou. Now, he was using the kind of evil that didn't announce itself with fanfare and fireworks. It was more like the type that smiled while it slipped arsenic into your coffee.

The intel flooding in from their network painted a picture uglier than sin. The Dark Warriors were reporting surges of power that made their supernatural radar go haywire. The Rowan sisters had their hands full with wards that kept shifting like quicksand. And the vampire community? They were seeing things that made thousand-year-old bloodsuckers check their locks twice at dawn.

"I'll be right up," Camael told his second-in-command when he was finished giving his report. His ice-blue eyes remained fixed on Amelia. "We need to finish here first."

Rami nodded and disappeared upstairs, leaving them alone again. The tension in the room thickened until Amelia could barely breathe. Or maybe that was just the effect Camael had on her when he looked at her like that.

Camael moved like a storm about to break. He was all lethal grace and barely contained power. "That Key around your neck?" His voice dropped to a place that made her bones vibrate. "The visions it's feeding into your brain aren't just some cosmic highlight reel. This is preparation for a war that's been brewing since before time learned to crawl."

"Tell that to my migraine." Amelia's fingers found the artifact. Holy hell, power was surging between the two of them like a live wire. "Every time I think I've got a handle on this unexpected inheritance, it downloads another batch of greatest hits straight into my cerebral cortex."

His massive hand covered hers where she gripped the Key. The contact sent awareness shooting through her. It had jack shit to do with magic and everything to do with how much she wanted to shove him to the ground and have her way with him. "You're wielding power that hasn't been seen since the universe was in diapers." The words rumbled through his chest as he stepped closer. Close enough that she had to crane her neck to maintain eye contact. "The fact that you haven't reduced the entire planet to its component atoms is a fucking miracle."

The air between them thickened until breathing became optional. His ice-blue eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that could've melted steel. Time stretched like taffy as he lowered his head toward hers. Her breath caught in her throat as she prayed that he didn’t stop.

The kiss, when it finally happened, was like getting hit by divine lightning. His lips claimed hers with a hunger that had been building since day one. One of his hands tangled in her hair while the other pulled her flush against him. Power surged between them, making the Key pulse against her chest like a second heartbeat .

Because timing was a bitch with a sick sense of humor, alarms screamed through the mansion like banshees having a party. To her dismay, he pulled away from her and went alert. She should have too, but she wasn’t a trained warrior. And he did things to her that left her dazed and aroused. She managed to snap to when she noted the wards lit up brighter than Vegas on New Year's. They were straining against multiple impacts that felt like supernatural battering rams.

"Incoming!" Jo's voice carried the kind of urgency that meant someone was about to have a really bad day. "The outer wards are failing faster than Raphael’s jaw when Kara came home!"

Camael and Amelia moved as one. They raced for the main floor. The scene that greeted them would've given horror directors nightmares. Demons were pouring through gaps in their defenses like water through a sieve. They looked like someone had grabbed monsters from humanity's darkest nightmares and cranked the horror up to eleven.

We're talking bodies that rippled with muscle beneath skin that looked like burned leather. They sported enough teeth to make a great white shark file a copyright claim. Their eyes glowed with the kind of ancient evil that made even Lucifer check under his bed at night. To Amelia these sumbitches seemed like the apex predators of Hell. She bet they made lesser demons curl up in the fetal position and cry for their demon mommies.

Amelia burst into the foyer with Camael on her six. They arrived just in time to see Jo take a demon's head clean off. The female angel moved like she was starring in her own action movie. Her blade carved through a creature that had about six too many arms. Az was at her back. His wings spread wide as he drove his sword through what might have been a face. The thing had sharp teeth and piercing eyes.

Up on the grand staircase, Mal was putting on a clinic in creative dismemberment. His blade took one demon apart while Zach's follow-through turned another into one of hell's favorite jigsaw puzzles. The marble steps were already slick with black ichor that smoked where it hit the floor.

Amelia’s arm flew up when a flash of crimson lit up the space like someone had thrown blood on the walls. She had magic crackling on her palms and was about to toss it when she saw it was the triplets that had joined them in the French Quarter earlier. They materialized in formation. Holy mother of magic, they know how to make an entrance. Amelia threw the magic at a demon to her right and watched the three warrior angels for a second.

Araton shot straight up. His red wings carried him to the chandelier, where he engaged something that looked like a pterodactyl had gotten busy with a sloth. His blade struck faster than her eyes could track. Chunks of demon rained down like the world's worst confetti.

Ten feet to her left, Ayil spun through three demons like a divine Cuisinart. His sword left trails of fire that turned infernal flesh to ash. The male moved like violence given form. Each strike was as precise and lethal as hellfire.

She caught glimpses of Abraxos between exchanging blows with her own dance partner. She faced a demon whose spine kept relocating at the worst possible moments. She dispatched that one in a flash as she tried to mix the two powers. There was another right behind it, taking its place. This one had mandibles where its chest should be. And it had decided she looked like lunch. Game on, asshole. Light and shadow gathered in her palms as she prepared to show it what his friend had learned. She ducked and rolled out of the hot zone.

"Really?" Rami shouted as he decapitated something with too many eyes. "In our house?"

"Guess they didn't get the invitation to use the doorbell," Amelia fired back. She let her newfound powers flow free and turned three demons to ash.

Camael's curse could've stripped paint as he manifested his wings. "They're after the artifacts," he growled as his Sword of Light blazed to life. "This is a targeted strike."

No shit. The demons were pressing toward the library where they'd stored the other relics she’d brought from her house. Rami and Remi took up position in front of the double doors. They created a living, breathing barrier.

Amelia threw herself into the battle. The massive house seemed smaller as they fought the demons. The mansion's elegant interior was a war zone. Demons crawled across walls and ceilings with impossible grace. The marble floors were slick with ichor as divine steel met corrupted flesh. Amelia did her best to cast cleansing spells so she didn’t slip on the shit and break her neck.

"Behind you!" Ayil's warning came just as a particularly nasty piece of work tried to flank Amelia. The thing looked like someone had tried to mate a praying mantis with a Bearded Dragon.

She spun, channeling power through the Key. Light and shadow combined into a blade of pure twilight energy that cut through the demon like it was made of smoke. "Thanks for the heads up!"

"Anytime, witch." The angel's grin was fierce as he bisected another demon.

The fight carried them through the mansion's halls. Every room became a battlefield as they pushed the demons back. Expensive furniture became improvised weapons. Beautiful works of art suffered collateral damage. It was all worth it as they slowly began to turn the tide.

"The library's secure!" Az called out from somewhere ahead. "But we've got problems on the perimeter! "

"Define problems," Camael demanded as he separated a demon's head from its shoulders.

A crash from outside answered that question. Something massive was moving through the grounds. Each step it took made the windows rattle and the marble floors vibrate beneath their feet. "Oh, you have got to be kidding me," Rami muttered as he looked out a window. "Boss, remember that thing from Detroit?"

"Yeah."

"Its big brother just showed up. And it brought friends."

The fight spilled onto the grounds of their rented Marigny mansion like Hell's version of a block party. Amelia's hands moved through the air as she continued weaving light and shadow. This time she directed it into a massive dome that covered their designer landscaping faster than a gossip could spread news in church. No need to give their wealthy neighbors Instagram material or reasons to call their therapists.

Behind her, the mansion's historic doors hung off their hinges. The imported marble steps were decorated in demon parts that were already dissolving into black goo. But that shit was nothing compared to what came crashing through their perimeter wards. "Sweet mother of fuck." The curse slipped out before she could catch it.

The thing that emerged from the darkness looked like someone had grabbed parts from every apex predator in existence and thrown them in a blender. They were now facing thirty feet of muscle wrapped in armor plating that would make a tank jealous. Its head was a nightmare of horns and teeth, with eyes that glowed like pools of lava.

"Now that's just excessive," Rami called out as he dodged a swipe from one of its six arms. Each limb ended in claws that could've gutted a whale. "And our lease definitely doesn't cover this kind of damage. "

The beast's roar shook the ground hard enough to make her teeth rattle. It was the kind of sound that made French Quarter tour guides wake up screaming. The thing brought one massive foot down. When it lifted it again, Amelia swallowed in awe of the crater left in the hundred-thousand-dollar landscaping. It would've made the property manager go into cardiac arrest.

She sucked in a breath when she saw Camael launch into the air. His Sword of Light carved a path across the creature’s armored hide. He managed to leave trails of divine fire. The creature's response? It tried to eat him. It opened a mouth full of enough teeth to make a shredder jealous. It attempted to turn Heaven's most badass archangel into a snack.

"Not happening," Amelia muttered as she gathered twilight energy into her hands. She let it build for a second before releasing it in a wave that made the air ripple. The blast caught the thing in the chest and forced it back three steps. Unfortunately, that put it in the fancy fountain. With her luck, it was imported from Italy and that was thousand-year-old stone that crumbled like it was made of sugar.

She was busy trying to think of a spell to fix the damage when the triplets moved in like they shared a single mind. Araton and Abraxos went for its legs, while Ayil targeted the joints where its arms met its body. Their red wings left trails in the air as they struck with coordinated precision.

"The head!" Jo shouted as she and Az created a distraction on its left flank. "Its armor is weakest at the base of the skull!"

Mal and Zach were already moving. They used the creature's arm as a ramp and raced up it toward the head like they were competing in the world’s most dangerous parkour contest. Their blades struck simultaneously. Both found the weak spot Jo had spotted.

But it was Camael who delivered the killing blow. The archangel dropped from above. His Sword of Light blazed brighter than a supernova as he drove it straight through the creature's skull and out the other side.

The thing's death scream could've shattered windows in the next parish if Amelia's dome hadn't contained it. It went down like a collapsing building. Its massive body dissolved into ichor that ate holes in their designer grass and probably their rental agreement.

"Well," Jo managed as she surveyed the carnage. "I'm guessing Michael and Raphael aren't going to be happy about needing to bring in troops to remodel."

Abraxos landed silently in front of Crescent City Arcane. The bookstore's windows were dark, but he could sense movement inside. More importantly, he could feel the pulse of power coming from within. The place housed texts that made his angelic senses hum with recognition.

The female who owned it, Sarah, was more than just a human occult shopkeeper. He'd seen that during the battle in the Quarter. The way she'd moved. The books she'd protected. She knew things. Important things.

The wards around the building recognized him from earlier. They parted like curtains as he approached the door. The bell above it chimed softly as he entered and announced his presence in the empty shop.

"We're closed!" Sarah's voice carried from the back room. "Unless you're here about earlier, in which case I still have questions."

"I might have answers." He moved through the stacks with predatory grace. He followed her voice and the sweet and salty scent of the beach. He’d barely caught a hint of her natural perfume during the battle.

He wasn’t prepared when she emerged from behind a shelf. His breath caught, and his hormones went haywire. Even disheveled from the chaos, she was stunning. Her dark hair was pulled back in a messy bun, and her green eyes held intelligence that called to something in his ancient soul.

"The angel with red wings," she said to him as she crossed her arms. "I didn't get a chance to thank you for earlier."

"Abraxos," he supplied, though she hadn't asked. "And you're Sarah Morgan. The witch who maintains the Quarter's oldest occult library."

Her eyebrow rose. "You've done your homework. Although, I’m not really a witch. I’m the family disappointment. I don’t have powers like my mother and grandmother."

"Knowledge is power." He gestured to the shelves around them. "And you have quite a collection of it."

"Is that why you're here?" She moved closer. Damn, if her nearness didn't do things to his concentration. "The books?"

Yes. No. Maybe. The truth was more complicated than that. He wasn't ready to examine it too closely. "Some of these texts are older than human civilization," he said instead. "They need protection, especially now."

"Hence the wards." She tilted her head, studying him with those sharp eyes. "That's not really why you came back, is it?"

No, it wasn't. Before he could respond, the Quarter lit up like Satan's Christmas tree. The Prince of Lies was pulling some next-level fuckery. He was continuing to thread his poison through the city's spiritual DNA like a virus rewriting its host. Where demons and brute force had failed him, this new play was pure psychological warfare. He was trying to change the locks from the inside while also preparing the way for something older than sin itself to waltz right in and make itself at home.

Sarah cursed as she moved to check her wards. "It's getting worse," she muttered. "The darkness is finding new paths. Evil is going to ruin my store. "

"Show me." He regretted how the words came out more command than a request, but he couldn’t take it back.

Without a word, she led him to a back room where maps covered one wall. Magical markers showed the spread of Lucifer's influence through the city. The pattern was changing. Becoming more organic and insidious.

"He's learning," she said as she traced one particularly dark line. "And finding ways around our defenses that we didn't think possible."

Abraxos moved closer. He was drawn by both the tactical information and her presence. "The Prince of Lies is adapting his strategy. The question is, why? What is his aim this time?" He had a feeling Sarah's books might hold some answers. Just like he had a feeling this wouldn't be his last visit to Crescent City Arcane.

Sarah lifted her shoulders. “Don’t ask me. I’m nothing more than a simple shopkeeper straddling the line between the Tehrex Realm and the human world.” The female was anything but simple.

"Sounds like we’d better look through the texts you have and see if we can find answers." His voice came out rougher than he intended. Like his throat couldn't quite handle being this close to her. "Something tells me your library's got secrets that would make Heaven's archivists weep with joy."

Sarah's green eyes met his. The intelligence in that gaze hit him harder than celestial steel. It made him think dangerous thoughts about things that had nothing to do with ancient languages or saving the world. He told himself he had to focus on his duty. Heaven's most elite warriors didn't get distracted by females with brilliant minds and the kind of beauty that made his ancient soul sit up and beg. But as she led him deeper into her shop's mysteries? He knew he was lying to himself. Truth was a bitch that way.