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FIRE AND REVELATIONS

CADE

W e materialized in a narrow alley about a block from Purgatory. The angelic transport left me disoriented, my stomach lurching as my atoms reassembled themselves. Sean staggered against a brick wall, looking like he might be sick.

“A little warning next time, feathers,” Sean muttered, straightening up.

“My apologies,” Cassiel replied, though he didn't sound particularly sorry. “We needed to land far enough away that the demons wouldn't sense my presence immediately.”

The distant sounds of chaos reached us even here—glass breaking, screams, the unmistakable crack of gunfire. Whatever was happening at Purgatory, it wasn't good.

“We need to move,” I said, already drawing my blades. The silver caught the moonlight, gleaming coldly in the darkness.

As we started toward the street, Cassiel fell into step beside me. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes kept darting to my hip, where the Heavenly Lash hung coiled and ready.

“You still have the Heavenly Lash, don't you?” he asked suddenly, his voice cutting through the tension.

I stiffened at the question, glancing at him sharply. Sean, walking on my other side, narrowed his eyes.

“Why do you know about that?” Sean asked, suspicion coloring his tone.

Cassiel didn't answer right away. Instead, he studied me with an expression that was uncomfortably close to recognition.

“You don't know how much your parents mattered, do you?” he finally said.

My steps faltered for just a moment before I forced myself to keep walking. “My parents were hunters,” I replied, keeping my voice level despite the sudden tightness in my chest. “They mattered to me. That's enough.”

Cassiel exhaled, shaking his head slightly. “They mattered to more than just you. Your parents were spoken of among the angels. Not often, but enough that I knew their names.”

That landed heavier than I expected, a weight dropping into the pit of my stomach. Next to me, Sean frowned, moving closer as if to shield me.

“And what exactly were they saying?” Sean pressed, his protective instinct kicking in.

“That they had the favor of certain angels—and not just any. Powerful ones,” Cassiel explained. “Your father and mother were trusted with something sacred, something the higher orders don't give lightly.”

He gestured toward my hip, where the Lash hung.

“Seraph Steel. The only reason you have that whip is because someone up there decided they were worthy enough to wield a weapon infused with angelic fire.

But the part they never spoke of—the part even you didn't know—is that it wasn't just given to them. It was meant to be kept secret.”

I exchanged a look with Sean. His eyes reflected my own confusion and wariness, but there was also a flicker of curiosity.

“Why?” Sean asked. “If the angels trusted them, why hide it?”

Cassiel's mouth quirked in what might have been the ghost of a smile. “Because Seraph Steel is rare. And because of what it can do.”

“What can it do exactly?” I asked, feeling the weight of the weapon more keenly now.

Cassiel's expression grew serious. “It can make an angel bleed,” he said simply. “Cut through celestial defenses as easily as mortal flesh.”

I thought about the way it had torn through Asmodeus with unnatural efficiency, how the demon had actually seemed surprised by the damage it inflicted. “That's... significant.”

“Exactly. A weapon like that—especially in human hands—is dangerous. It was meant to be safeguarded. Your parents never used it, never even spoke of it, because they understood the risk. But now it's yours.”

We'd reached the end of the alley, the entrance to Purgatory visible down the street. Even from here, I could see the chaos—people running, shadows moving unnaturally fast, flashes of what looked like black smoke. But Cassiel stopped, holding out his hand.

“Let me see it,” he said.

I hesitated, but then I unhooked the whip from my hip and passed it over. Cassiel took it carefully, fingers brushing against the hilt as if testing its weight.

He closed his eyes, and the air around us shifted, growing heavy with an electric charge that raised the hair on my arms. The Lash began to hum—an almost imperceptible vibration that I felt more than heard.

A golden glow emanated from Cassiel's hands, spreading along the weapon like fire catching on a fuse.

The whip itself began to glow, illuminating our faces in ethereal light.

I watched, transfixed. I'd only had the Lash for a short time, since Sterling had given it to me.

Sean, ever skeptical, moved closer. “What exactly are you doing?” he asked, voice tight with suspicion.

Cassiel didn't open his eyes. His voice was softer now, as if speaking from somewhere far away. “Restoring it.”

When he finally opened his eyes, the glow faded—leaving the whip looking unchanged, except for the faintest shimmer along its edges.

He handed it back to me. “You can command it now.”

I gripped the handle, feeling its familiar weight in my palm. “Command it?”

Cassiel nodded. “Try it. Will it to retract.”

Feeling somewhat foolish, I focused on the weapon, feeling its weight in my palm. I thought about reeling it back in—almost like recalling a memory that was never mine.

With a flicker of movement, the lash coiled into itself, retracting back into the handle like a serpent returning to its den.

Sean let out a low whistle. “Well, that's new.”

I stared at it, mind still turning over what Cassiel had said. My parents. The angels. The secrecy. The favor they had.

And the question that gnawed at me the most: What else had they been trusted with?

But there was no time to dwell on it. A scream cut through the night, followed by the distinctive sound of breaking glass. We all turned toward Purgatory.

“Juno's in there,” Sean said, his face hardening.

Hawk checked his weapons one last time. “Let's move.”

“Be careful,” Cassiel warned, his eyes on me. “The demons will try to provoke you, to awaken what's inside you.”

Before I could ask what he meant, another scream tore through the night, and we were running.

We burst through the doors of Purgatory to find a scene straight out of hell.

The flashing strobe lights painted the carnage in disorienting bursts—red, white, black.

Bodies lay strewn across the floor, some moving, most not.

The air was thick with the coppery scent of blood and the sulfurous stench of demons.

The bar itself was in ruins, shattered bottles leaking alcohol that mingled with blood on the floor.

Humans screamed, trapped in the massacre, while supernatural patrons fought desperately to hold back the tide of demons.

In the center of the chaos, Juno—already bloodied, her dark skin stark against the crimson splashed across her face—was fending off a monstrous, horned creature twice her size.

Its skin was scaled and blackened, like coal that still held embers within.

I didn't hesitate. I drew both silver blades and charged into the fight, the Heavenly Lash still secured at my hip.

The first demon I encountered barely had time to turn before my blade sliced across its throat, black ichor spraying in an arc.

It stumbled back, gurgling, before I drove my second blade through its chest.

Sean was right behind me, the Colt in one hand, a wicked-looking knife in the other. He fired with deadly accuracy, each shot finding its mark in a demon's head or heart. “Juno!” he shouted over the noise. “Eight o'clock!”

I spun to see three demons converging on Juno, who was still locked in combat with the horned monstrosity.

Without thinking, I reached for the Heavenly Lash, and it uncoiled in my hand with a mere thought, extending to its full length.

The golden energy crackled along its surface as I swung it in a wide arc.

The Lash cut through the air and connected with the nearest demon, wrapping around its waist. With a sharp tug, I pulled it toward me, directly into the path of my waiting blade.

As the silver pierced its heart, the demon convulsed, orange light flickering beneath its skin before it collapsed into ash.

Cassiel moved like a hurricane, materializing beside Juno.

His twin celestial blades—which I hadn't even seen him draw—shimmered as they carved through demonic flesh.

Every strike was precise and lethal. The horned demon lunged at him, and with a mere flick of his wrist, Cassiel severed its head in a single, fluid motion.

Another charged, massive and hulking, but Cassiel didn't flinch. He stepped forward, driving his blade straight through its chest. Light burst from the wound, spreading through the demon's body like cracks in glass until it seemed to burn from within.

“Damn,” Sean muttered, breathless beside me. “Remind me never to piss you off.”

Cassiel merely raised an eyebrow before spinning to behead another creature mid-leap.

I turned to face a new threat—a demon that had once been a woman but now moved with the jerky, unnatural motions of a puppet with too many strings. Her eyes were solid black, her mouth stretched in a grin that was too wide for her face.

“The marked one,” she hissed, her voice layered with multiple tones.

I faltered, a sudden image flashing in my mind—chains wrapped around my wrists, fire licking at my skin, a voice whispering:

You are mine .

Pain seared through my skull, like molten metal being poured directly into my brain. My vision blurred, the present moment overlapping with fragments of memory that couldn't possibly be mine. The demon lunged, taking advantage of my distraction.

“Cade!” Sean's voice cut through the fog. I snapped back to reality just in time to see the demon inches from my face, claws extended. Before I could react, Sean was there, driving his knife through its throat. Black blood sprayed across my chest as the demon fell.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Sean barked, his eyes wide with concern beneath the anger.