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Naomi retaliated with a stream of red-violet fire that swiftly became a snake.

The serpent went right for the cleric’s face, making him stagger back so fast he fell.

The fiery snake landed on him and bit into his cheek.

His back bowed, a loud cry of pain tearing out of his throat as the scorching-hot venom took instant effect.

Ha.

Her peripheral vision screamed a warning.

She looked to her left to see Stout Guy advancing on her.

Wicked fast, she grabbed a fallen sword and slammed it up in time to parry his blow.

More, she infused fire into the blade, let it crawl up the steel and then into his own.

As it reached the hilt, he released the weapon with a cry.

Both swords crumbled to nothing as they fell.

While he stared at his blistering palm, she released a stream of flames that set him alight. Which was right when she sensed that Adrian was going to make a run for it.

Naomi twirled mega fast and pyroported in front of him. “And then there was one,” she said with a smirk.

His eyes wide in a terror that delighted her demon, Adrian took unsteady steps backward. “He has already claimed you as his bride, hasn’t he? He has given you his powers.”

She zapped his blade with fire, unsurprised that he dropped it before the flames could reach the hilt. “You mean Lucifer? I’m not his bride, but to some extent, he did give me power.” He’d contributed to her DNA, after all. “Tell me, are there more of you?”

He clamped his mouth shut.

“ Now you’re going to be quiet? You were rather chatty before. Really, it’s best that you don’t fuck around,” she warned. “I’d have no problem hurting you. It would genuinely mean nothing to me.”

He turned to flee.

But she pre-empted him.

She pyroported in front of him again, smiling when he stumbled to a halt. “We’re not done here.” She blasted out a line of flames that quickly formed a circle around him.

His eyes went wide in alarm, his body braced to run through the flames.

“Try it,” she dared, letting the fire engulfing her body ease up until it died down altogether. “The pain you’ll feel will be like nothing you imagined could exist.”

Seraphim fire purified, purging a soul of all guilt and wrongdoing. But Lou’s ability to do so had become warped by the fall, meaning his fire not only contaminated the soul itself but proved noxious to a person’s system—and Naomi’s fire did exactly the same thing.

“You didn’t answer my question,” she prodded.

Adrian notched up his trembling chin. “Do what you will to me. I will never betray my brothers.”

“Don’t be so sure of that.” She tossed a bunch of fiery serpents into the circle.

Fear washed over his face, chasing away the belligerence. He backed up, went to run . . . and then stilled as he seemed to remember that there was nowhere to go.

He hopped from side to side, trying to avoid the snakes, but they were too fast. They slithered up his body, hissing, snapping their jaws, flashing their fangs, flicking out their tongues.

Adrian trembled, flinched, and cried out in pain as their scales scorched every bit of flesh they touched.

“Are there more of you?” she asked.

Lines of agony etched his face. “Yes,” he spat out, resentment coloring his tone. “Many others. They will come. They will keep coming until you are dead.”

“You see the problem, then, because they won’t succeed in killing me. They’re basically on a suicide mission.”

“They will triumph. Good always triumphs over evil.”

“Lord above, you are a bunch of nutcases.” The fact was that “holy” didn’t always equate to “good”, just as “demonic” didn’t automatically make a person evil. But she didn’t suppose he’d be willing to listen to reason.

Naomi telepathically reached out to her Prime. Hey, Jolene, hope you’re not busy. I have a cleric here who you might want to meet. She gave the woman her exact location.

Returning her attention to Adrian, she tilted her head. “Tell me more about the messenger who gave you these swords.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, his cheeks turning mottled. “No. No, I can’t.”

“Oh, you can. And you really, really should.”

Ciaran materialized a few feet away with Jolene.

The Prime swept her gaze around, taking in the burning corpses.

“Good Christ. I suppose it was too much to hope that all the clerics on your ass were dead.” She grinned at Adrian.

“Hello there. You must be one of these idiots who think Naomi here will pop out the Antichrist at some point. Well, you should know that I’m even crazier than you are—and that’s saying something.

Taking that into consideration, it would be best for you to answer any questions we might have. And I have quite a few.”

“As do I,” said Naomi. “He was just about to tell me about the person from whom they received their swords. What is the messenger’s name?” she pressed.

“I . . . I . . .” Adrian trailed off, his eyes rolling back into his head, his body trembling. All of a sudden, his legs gave out, he dropped to his knees and slumped forward, face-planting on the ground.

He didn’t get up. Or moan in pain. Or move even an inch .

The fuck?

Naomi waved a hand, extinguishing the snakes and flames. “Is he all right?”

Ciaran squatted beside the cleric and checked his pulse. “No, he’s dead,” he said with some astonishment.

Naomi felt her lips part. “You’re kidding. How can he be dead? I didn’t have the snakes bite him, just scare him.” Her demon’s shoulders sagged at the anticlimactic feel to the moment.

“Not sure how it happened, but he’s a goner.” Ciaran rose to his feet. “It was like his body just . . . gave out.”

“Like he died from being asked a question,” mused Jolene, her eyes squinty.

Naomi blinked. “How is that possible?”

“You’ve heard of preternaturals who can program a person’s brain and body to self-destruct in the event of particular triggers such as phrases or questions, right?” asked Jolene.

Naomi felt her brows slide together. “You think that’s the case here?”

“It’s possible.” Jolene took a suspicious look around. “I think we should get out of here and finish this conversation in private.”

“I agree,” Naomi told her. “Just let me clean up my mess.”

All business, she used her fire to ensure that every trace of the clerics was gone, blades and all. Ciaran then teleported the three of them to her living area.

Slumping into her armchair, Naomi sank a hand into her hair. “What a fucking night.”

Jolene shot her a look of disappointment. “You should have reached out when the clerics first showed up.”

Naomi winced. “I was in a bad mood after that crap with Iain earlier. I wanted an outlet for my anger.”

“Understandable, I suppose,” Jolene grudgingly conceded. “I can still wish that you’d requested backup.” She paused, taking a seat on the sofa. “I’ve telepathically contacted your mother, Alfie, and Beck. They will be here soon.”

“Khloe’s on a weekend break with Keenan,” said Ciaran, standing near the fireplace, “so I’d rather just tell her about this tomorrow.”

“That’s fine.” Naomi tried telepathing Tobe, but it was like hitting a psychic wall. She sighed. “Tobe seems to have shut a mental door, because my attempts to contact him aren’t working.”

Ciaran’s gaze turned inward, and then he said, “Nor are mine.”

Naomi looked from him to Jolene. “Am I the only one thinking that whoever put a trigger in the cleric’s mind also gave him his sword?”

“No, that would be my guess as well,” said Jolene. “Dark practitioners have been known to use such things.”

“Get this: the cleric said that the person who brought the blades to the monkhood was one of God’s messengers; that he came on behalf of God himself. And the more I ponder on that, the more I wonder if the messenger is a dark practitioner posing as an angel.”

Ciaran blinked, his head jerking back. “An angel?”

“It was the tone of voice the cleric used as he spoke of him. There was awe and reverence there.” It tweaked Naomi’s radar.

Ciaran squinted. “Could a dark practitioner pull something like that off, Grams?”

“If he was powerful enough, yes,” replied Jolene.

“I might have wondered if the ‘he’ they talked of is an actual angel, but no way would the Uppers make their current situation worse.” After Uppers had targeted Ella and her baby for death merely due to a dislike of her breeding with a fallen celestial, they had earned themselves the wrath of every demon.

They had called home all earth-bound angels for fear that demons would hurt them in lieu of those responsible for the attacks on Ella.

The celestials would want to lie low until tempers cooled so that they could come to earth once more. It would rankle with them that there was absolutely no angelic presence here at the moment. As such, the absolute last thing they would do was go after yet another demon.

“I agree with that much,” said Ciaran. “But why would a dark practitioner get involved with a monkhood of clerics?”

Jolene tapped her fingers on the sofa’s armrest. “While most dark practitioners like to feed off demonic power, others prefer holy power. They often capture angels for such purposes. There are presently no celestials on earth, but clerics can channel divine power as they’re descendants of the Nephilim.

It isn’t a stretch to think that a dark practitioner might therefore use clerics, feeding off their faith and the holy magick they can wield. ”

Now that would make sense.

“While dark practitioners know much about demons, they aren’t firmly entrenched in our world.

They’re not extremely knowledgeable about all preternatural species—about our natures, our abilities, our origins.

Hell, some of them sacrifice virgins to Lucifer, having no clue what he’s really like.

They wouldn’t know that he couldn’t possibly conceive the Antichrist, so they wouldn’t be able to enlighten the clerics. ”

“Do you think the dark practitioner in question even cares about the prophecy?” Ciaran asked.