Page 42 of Fallen: Darkness Ascending, Vol.1

FAITH

I stood alongside my crew of fallen angels at the door to the safe house.

The wards were almost down, and Cadriel planned to drop them entirely when we were all in position.

Xath and Simiel hurried in from the bedroom, dressed in almost military-esque gear.

Cadriel reached out for the vest Simiel offered, and then Xath handed one out towards me.

“The hell is this?” I took whatever it was, but Xath rolled his eyes, and I tried to manipulate it into some type of shape. Snatching the thing back, he draped it around me like a coat with too many pockets, then secured it with both a zipper and several straps.

“It’s a protective vest. Upgraded by Cadriel. You may be nuclear, nephilim, but you can still get stabbed.”

Narrowing my eyes at Xath, I realized that even though he was being a royal dick about it, he was still trying to protect me. Huh, well, that’s…something.

“Thank you. You’re not going to start being nice to me now, are you?” I flicked my stare up to his as he finished securing my vest, his scent all around me and strong.

Xath cocked a brow, looking at me like I was an idiot. “Have you met me?”

All I could do was laugh. But then Cadriel and Simiel were squaring off toward the door as another boom sounded, rocking the safe house on its foundation.

“Ready? They’re about to break it down. If we want to get the drop on them, we need to move now.” Cadriel didn’t look over their shoulder as they spoke, eyes glued to the door.

“Ready, Cad.” Xath squeezed their shoulder as he stepped up alongside them. “Drop it.”

Swirling their hands through the air in shapes that made no sense to me, I watched Cad do their thing, my pulse booming in my head.

I’d been positioned behind the front line of fallen, not as familiar with my gifts yet, but it didn’t really matter, and we all knew that.

The angels would come in, and going by the number of them, at least a few would be able to make it past the line.

Then it was on me to try and use whatever juice I could to, you know, not die.

Okay, Faith. You’ve killed before in a snap. Do it again. Protect your flock. Protect yourself.

With a final flick of their wrist, Cadriel released the wards, and I immediate felt that same suction pulse as the fallen yanked the angels inside the safe house as they’d discussed.

The first three were shunted out of the hall and into the living room, each right before one of my flock.

The group of enemies all stumbled after landing, their eyes going wide as they registered where they were.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Simiel teased, summoning his corrupted blade to his hand and stabbing it up through the bottom of the angel’s jaw.

The look of shock only doubled on the angel’s face as the short, knife-like weapon pierced through them and up into their brain. It was frozen there as the lifeforce drained from him, but I could sense his grace clinging to this plane. He was fighting death tooth and nail. I needed to do something.

Channeling whatever power Rhymael had given me before his demise, I held out my hand. Xath could do it. Simiel and Cadriel could do it. I had to be able to do it, too. I had to be able to summon a blade.

Come on, come on, come on.

Heat warmed my palm, sparks of light flickering into being until at last, in a bright snap, something solid and heavy pressed into my grip.

I looked down, and what do you fucking know?

It was a sword similar in size and general shape to Xath's, but vastly different in every other way.

Bright orange and white flames licked along the blade, which jutted out from the pommel at least two feet, curving slightly at the end.

More shocked stares met me, and I rushed closer to Simiel, getting to the side of the angel and stabbing my sword through his chest. The point of the blade and its wicked curve appeared out of the other side of his torso.

Immediately, the angel went limp and his eyes rolled back, any remaining lifeforce or grace obliterated with a single stab.

“Well, look at that, darlin’.” Simiel yanked his blade free, smiling from ear to ear as he licked up the silver ichor that coated it. “Have yourself a taste. I promise, one is all it takes to be addicted.”

Pulling my sword free, I eyed the liquid covering it.

Something in my head knew that this would be the ultimate sign to the angels that I wasn’t one of them, that I was a threat as potent as my fallen.

I locked eyes with the one who stood near Cadriel, currently being impaled by their blade through his throat, blood dripping out of his mouth.

I extended my tongue and swiped it through the mercury-like blood.

Power and electricity zinged through my taste buds, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d have thought I took a hit of something. Simiel was right. These fuckers tasted delicious, and the retribution that flowed through my veins ate up every last surge of energy, ready for the next round.

“Get ready,” Xath called out, slicing the head clean off of the last angel in the room. It sent blood splattering against the wall, the scent of charred skin clogging the air as the stump of the angel’s neck continued to burn in corrupted flame. “Here they come.”

The handful of other angels filtered into the room through the single entrance.

They rushed directly for my fallen, wielding their own flaming swords and daggers.

The clashing of metal reverberated through the safe house, and as an angel dodged through the front line, I met him with my sword held tightly by my side.

Slashing out, I sliced through the angel’s bicep, and he hissed tremendously, the impact sight of his injury flaring with black lines that spidered through his veins up toward his neck.

“The fuck is that?!” He shouted, and I looked down at the blade. Clearly, my flame wasn’t holy like the angels or they wouldn’t have cared. What it was I didn’t know, however.

“Come find out, cutie.” I sneered at him, opening up my arms to lure the bastard in.

Handling the blade, handling myself, felt so natural, and I slipped more and more into this place where it wasn’t Faith the human, who I’d known all my life. It was Faith, the nephilim, and she was a violent, intriguing mystery.

He rushed me, and at the last moment, I thrust my sword forward and up, getting the asshole right through the ribs.

Coughing up silver blood and sputtering around the stuff that filled his lungs, the angel gaped a me before screaming, whipping around his blade in a last-ditch effort to wound me.

I grabbed hold of his hair at the bang, squeezing tightly, and I pulled my sword free.

Screams of agony filled the space around me, blocking everything out as I zeroed in on the utter horror and pain that took over the angel’s features. Viscera and blood gushed out of the open wound, the mortal meat sack the angel was wearing leaking his guts onto the floor.

Even before Simiel had told me on the flight over, I knew the meat wasn’t the angel. Sure, you had to kill it too in most cases, but the grace, that’s what was really important.

Open up, asshole.

Tipping the angel’s head back, I dragged the point of my blade through his neck, slitting his throat cleanly.

Gouts of silver poured from him, and there in the center of it all, nestled in by the voice box, was a glowing ember of white light—his grace.

Allowing my blade to hover in the air, I reached for it, digging my fingers into the split flesh and muscle of the angel’s neck.

Heat told me when I’d found the grace, and I yanked— hard .

Warmth spurted everywhere, hitting my lip.

I licked it clean as I held the grace in my fingers.

It felt alive and terrified in my grip, this ancient thing held by little old me.

I squeezed and squeezed, upping the pressure bit by bit.

Cracks formed in the tiny glowing orb, the molten grace dribbling down my hand and wrist. That white absorbed into my skin, and I didn’t stop until it was nothing but dust crushed in my palm.

Oh, this is way too much fun.

Looking up, I caught the sight of Xath pulling the spine out of one of the angels who was stuck through the middle by both Cadriel’s and Simiel’s blades.

The wet tearing sound bellowed nearly as loudly as the angel, and Xath dropped the useless hunk of meat to the floor.

Silver-laced blood puddled on the cement, and together Cad and Simiel yanked their daggers in opposite directions, cutting the angel clean in two.

They were covered in the shimmering viscera and blood of the mutilated angel, who was not in separate pieces, intestines spilling out all over.

I’d never had a sensitive stomach, but I had to admit that watching my fallen work was incredible.

The savagery was one I knew so well from our past few hours together, and I embraced it, sick of playing the role of a “good” girl, of being meak and pitiful as everyone around me used their strength—their fucking patriarchy-backed egos—as a weapon.

It was my fucking turn.

“You disgusting beasts!” An angel called out, getting the entire room’s attention. “You are all abominations. You should have all been smited eons ago! Fucking…defects. You’re all nothing but defects!”

My vision went white. I wasn’t broken. I wasn’t fucking broken!

Who the hell did this guy think he was calling me broken ?

! The wrath that tunneled through my veins was cobra venom and pain, the need to tear his arms from his body and beat him with them.

I would see that piece of shit sobbing and begging for mercy that would never come.

Dimly in the back of my mind, I remembered the words angelic rage. But I was too far gone to fight it.

Hot blood surged through me, and I cried out. “Ahh!!”