Page 25 of The Monsters We Are (Devil’s Cradle #3)

Cain stepped through the door and straight onto a stone platform. The other Ancients and the coven hurried inside and quickly shut the door before sounds of battle could filter down to the city below.

Blocking out his creature’s enraged hisses, Cain held up his hand for silence and listened carefully. He heard nothing. Not even muffled voices. Good. If no noise was trickling upward, it meant none would trickle downward.

Seth lifted his hand and conjured a faint sphere of light, illuminating the spiral staircase, dust motes, and rough-hewn walls. They were clearly in a cylindrical tower. A narrow tower.

“God, I hate tight spaces,”

Anabel whispered. “Stay in your crow form, Hattie. This staircase will otherwise be a nightmare for you.”

Ishtar made a quiet sound of complaint as she studied the steps. “There couldn’t be an elevator, no, there had to be a staircase.”

Still holding the ball of light, Seth led the way as they all quietly began to descend the compact staircase, careful not to let their shoes noisily scrape the stone steps. The scents of dust and stale air were strong, aggravating Cain’s senses and the back of his throat.

Considering that Seth’s white sphere didn’t cover much radius, Cain suspected a few other Ancients had conjured their own source of light. He didn’t look back to check. He kept his focus on the steps before him. He had to. It would only take one person to slip and lose their footing for several others to be knocked down like dominoes.

It killed Cain to move so slowly when he knew his consort was somewhere down below, possibly suffering at the hands of Adam. It seemed doubtful that the Aeon was currently torturing her—the bastard had bigger things to concern himself with right now. But the whirl of violent emotions inside Cain made it difficult for him to cling to that piece of logic.

He felt pumped up. Restless. Charged with a dark energy that demanded release.

He kept it all bottled up, still moving slowly. They came across no windows, or even any cracks in the walls that would allow thin shafts of light to beam through. Which was good, because it meant they had a better chance of moving undetected.

The staircase seemed to go on and on and on. The constant twisting and turning aggravated his sense of equilibrium. The slow pace threatened to make his creature lose all patience, even as it understood the need for stealth.

“Finally,”

said Seth as they eventually reached the bottom of the staircase and came upon a door. He pressed his ear to it. “I hear nothing.”

He gripped the handle and went to open it, but a quiet “Wait” came from Delilah.

The witch hurried over to the door and chanted while drawing a brief pattern in the air. A glistening wave of magick ghosted over the door and then disintegrated. “Now the hinges won’t creak when you open it.”

Seth’s brows hiked up, and he nodded in thanks. He then twisted the handle and inched open the door, peeking through the small gap. “The coast seems to be clear. And there’s plenty of cover we can use.”

He wasn’t at all wrong—a cluster of massive willow trees would help conceal them. It turned out that the staircase was built inside the rock wall of the city, which was covered in a sheet of moss and trails of climbing plants that very cleverly veiled the door.

It wouldn’t have been so hard for the Aeons to create and hide the staircase—they were experts at calling on and using the natural elements, after all. Experts at moving and manipulating earth, rock, and stone.

The last to exit, Dantalion closed the door behind him. Everyone quietly padded over the carpet of grass and took cover behind the trees. Cain could hear Adam’s voice—he spoke loud, as if giving a speech, but his words were indecipherable from that spot.

Cain quickly but quietly advanced through the maze of willows toward the sound, conscious of the others following him. It wasn’t difficult for him to navigate the area because the landscape hadn’t changed since he was last here. It was still much like a giant botanical garden that was dotted with various buildings—not many of said buildings were new.

It was strange to be back in this place where he was born and raised. There were no feelings of nostalgia. For him, it felt like the memories he had of Aeon were from a different life. A life in which he’d never felt truly alive. A life in which he’d merely existed, always feeling somewhat detached from everyone else.

As such, he felt no joy at being here. Just the same, he felt no sadness in noticing the signs of decay. It was nowhere near as prevalent here as it was above the city, but it soon would be.

The once lush greenery was dry, thinning, and turning a brownish shade. Fruit and vegetables were rotting, and many littered the floor. Water sources were dirty and gradually drying up. The old-style stone houses he came across featured cracks and dents. More, the few gold temples he passed had lost their shine, looking a dull bronze that possessed streaks of black.

As Cain neared the center of the city where the large temple that sat above Eden’s old resting place was situated, Adam’s words finally became audible. Yes, he was making a speech.

“Soon enough, the Ancients will have worn themselves out after expending so much energy on pointlessly attempting to break through our defenses,”

said Adam, his voice ringing loud and clear. “Already, we can tell that less power is behind their strikes. They are weakening, and this is our time to act.”

Cain halted behind a tree that gave him a clear view of Adam. The bastard stood on the top step of Eden’s temple with Jude and Emanuel flanking him. Rows upon rows of people stood in a tight formation as they listened to the last ruling Aeon.

There was no sign of Wynter. Cain felt his mouth tighten. Unless Adam took his captives to a different place nowadays, she was probably being kept inside the temple’s dungeon. Which was the one reason he didn’t dare try to kill Adam there and then with a wave of sheer power. If the man ducked, the temple would take the hit. If it collapsed, Wynter might be crushed—at the very least, her escape route would be blocked.

“But although the time to move is now, it is not yet the time to attack,”

Adam went on, looking every inch the pompous asshole. “While we wait for them to weaken further, a large number of you will use the second entrance to leave the city—Jude will show you where it is and unlock the door. You will stealthily make your way around the hill so that you can come at the Ancients from behind. When they are too weak to defend themselves, you will attack.”

Beside Cain, Abaddon grunted and said, “The man doesn’t have an honorable bone in his body.”

A quick glance around confirmed for Cain that the other Ancients were close, all taking cover as they glared at the Aeons ahead of them. But the Bloodrose Coven was nowhere to be seen.

A faint rumble came from Eden’s temple. Like an earthquake rattled its very foundations.

Adam looked over his shoulder. Nothing more happened, but he exchanged a quick glance with Jude before turning back to the crowd and clearing his throat.

Cain smiled. He’d bet his life that his consort was responsible for whatever just occurred in that temple. She’d never stay still and quiet like a good little captive.

Adam set his hands on his hips as he swept his gaze over his troops. “I trust that those of you who head up to the surface to blindside the Ancients will do the rest of us proud. You know every inch of the land. You know how to remain unseen. You know how to defend yourselves against these creatures.”

“Do you want Cain to be kept alive and brought to you?”

one troop called out.

“No,”

replied Adam. “You need not worry about him. Once the Ancients are distracted by you, I will come to the surface and deal with Cain—he will not see me coming. His death will come at my hands.”

Abaddon let out a quiet snort. “He always was an overachiever.”

“As for the other Ancients, they will also die tonight,”

Adam continued, his voice hard. “Every last one of them. Then the witch will restore our home to its former glory, and we will be what we always should have been—the most powerful race to have been born on this Earth.”

Cain’s creature hissed at the brief mention of Wynter. It kept pushing and shoving at him, tired of waiting for him to seek her out.

“He is so very at ease with sacrificing his own people, isn’t he?”

said Abaddon. “There are over a hundred troops out there. Most appear to be Aeons.”

He paused. “I remember there being far more of them.”

“Many Aeons died in the original massacre,”

said Cain. “Yet more died when Lailah and Saul brought an army to Devil’s Cradle. Abel also led some Aeons into battle, though not a great number of them.”

Another rumble came from Eden’s temple. A crack zigzagged its way down one side of the building. Another skittered down one of the thick columns.

Adam tensed, eyeing the latter crack with unease. He whispered something to Jude, who then strode into the temple. Facing front again, Adam began barking directions at his troops.

“It would be so easy to kill Emmanuel right now,”

said Abaddon.

Cain tensed. “Don’t. If you strike and miss, you’ll damage the temple. It’s already unstable—”

“And you don’t want to risk your consort being trapped inside, I know.”

Abaddon sighed. “Even so, it’s a . . .”

He trailed off as yet more vibrations came from the temple. Worse this time. So much worse.

Cain’s heart leaped. Shit, it was about to collapse in on itself.

Adam and Emanuel rushed down the steps using the enhanced speed of their kind, and a shimmering protective shield quickly encompassed them both.

Cain fisted his hands, needing to move, needing to—

Jude came barreling out of the temple. He wasn’t alone. Another figure was a short distance behind him. Wynter.

Relief fluttered through Cain like a warm breeze. She raced out of the building in a blur of speed and jumped down to the base of the steps, her hand fisted in the hair of Noah’s severed head.

That’s my girl.

“Get her!”

Adam ordered.

Several troops rushed her, but then they skidded to a halt. Pretty much everyone stilled. Because the collapsed temple was quivering. Shifting. As if something was caught beneath the stone blocks.

“No,”

Adam gasped, his eyes on her. “You didn’t.”

“Oh, I totally did,”

said Wynter, her lips quirking.

“Stupid girl, you have no idea what you’ve done!”

Her eyes hardened. “Of course I do. Just as I know you’ve kept him here since the massacre all those years ago. You tortured him. Endlessly. Until you felt sure that there was nothing of him left; that he was reduced to a feral, insane thing. And I gotta tell you, Adam, I have a real problem with that. Not just because it was a straight-up evil thing to do, but because he once saved Cain’s life. There was no way I’d ever not repay him for that.”

Cain’s scalp prickled as a possibility drifted through his mind. No. No, surely not.

“He’ll kill us all—you included,”

Adam snarled.

“Noah was of the same opinion.”

She tossed the traitor’s head on the ground. “I guess we’ll see if you’re both right.”

She blurred out of sight.

Stone blocks went flying as something surfaced from the fallen temple. Cain felt his face go slack. People stumbled backwards, crying out in horror as a mammoth-sized serpent stretched its upper body high, its golden scales glittering even through the layer of dust that coated them. It released a hissing shriek that carried screams directly from hell itself.

A Leviathan.

And not just any Leviathan. Cain recognized the distinctive scar on its head.

“Baal,”

Abaddon whispered.

Yes, Baal. Cain’s own uncle. A man they’d all thought dead. A being who, if the light of insanity in his monster’s eyes was anything to go by, truly was now only a creature of rage.

With yet another shrieking hiss, the serpent breathed a long, wave of fire. Any person it touched literally melted out of existence, their soul heading straight to hell. So there was little wonder that the troops scattered in a blind panic.

Several explosions abruptly went off all around, knocking people off their feet, and causing blue smoke to balloon in the air in various places. The coven.

Cain and the other Ancients chose that moment to make their move. It was Adam he wanted. But—as proven by how the Leviathan’s fiery breath harmlessly hit the shield—the Aeon was currently protected. The only saving grace was that neither Adam nor Emmanuel could attack anyone while within the shield, so people were just as safe from them.

For now, Cain would settle for taking out the other Aeons. He tossed a frisbee of power that sailed through the air, cleaving into several troops like a chainsaw. Their broken bodies dropped to the ground like sacks of spuds.

Thanks to Baal’s flames, it took a few moments—and several deaths—for the Aeons to realize they were under attack from the Ancients. But once reality hit them, they retaliated fast. Power was launched from almost every angle, coming in waves, blasts, flames, whips, and orbs of all kinds as the two sides went head-to-head.

Not all troops stopped to fight. Some ran for the staircase that would take them up to the main entrance, determined to flee from the serpent now slithering through the city, exhaling fire and wiping out several people in one swoop. Every one of the fleers screamed in terror when two silver-scaled Leviathans appeared in front of them, blocking their path of escape. Inanna and Ishtar.

Cain’s own creature wanted out. Not yet, he told it. He wanted to pick off more of the Aeons first. As the only Ancient who could twist their elemental power and turn it back on them, he was the best form of defense the Leviathans had against this race. So that was what Cain did over and over and over. He twisted water, earth, fire, and air into swarms of locusts, bees, wasps, hornets, and mosquitos that targeted only the Aeons.

Cain occasionally caught peeks of the Bloodrose Coven. Wynter, Xavier, and Anabel fought with both sword and magic while a crow and monstrous cat brutally tore into troops as a unit.

A scorching heat licked at Cain’s temple as a fireball skimmed the side of his head. He hissed out a curse. The scent of blood made his creature snarl.

Cain retaliated swiftly, hitting his attacker with a crackling stream of power that curled around her like a snake, contracting and squeezing as it shattered every bone in her body. He didn’t bother to stick around and watch her die. He turned his attention to the nearest troops and fought on.

Soon, Dantalion and Lilith also released their inner creatures, ramping up the level of chaos around them. And it truly was chaos. There were yells. Cries. Blasts. Animal howls and snarls. Hissing shrieks of Leviathans. Hoarse groans of revived corpses. The shatter of glass vials, which were promptly followed by explosions.

He also heard a female voice singing in a Scottish accent—something about walking five hundred miles. He thought it might be Anabel but couldn’t be certain.

Cain never strayed far from Adam and Emmanuel, who were still safe within their shield. Smoke puffed out of the Leviathan’s mouth as it repeatedly tried and failed to bite through the protection forcefield. For Baal to concentrate so hard on Adam, he apparently had enough awareness to at least know who his true enemy was. That was promising.

A troop conjured a ball of pulsing energy and went to sling it at Cain. But then an electric tentacle sliced through the air and struck him down. Seth. The confirmation that his brother was alive made Cain breathe easier.

He knew that Wynter, too, was alive but didn’t let himself worry about her. He couldn’t. He instead concentrated on wiping out as many of the troops as possible so she’d have less people to fight.

Again and again, Cain traded long-distance blows with the troops, taking out several. Orbs or gusts of magick occasionally came at him, but he effortlessly obliterated the witches and mages. They were simply no match for him.

“I have one of your fellow witches, Wynter!”

yelled Jude.

Cain swiftly turned to see Wynter standing ten feet or so away from Jude, who held a sword to Anabel’s throat. The blonde didn’t seem at all fazed—in fact, she was weirdly smirking. But Wynter? Fury was etched into every line of her face.

“You really should let her go,”

said Wynter, her voice hard.

“After all you have done to my home?”

Jude shouted, spittle flying from his mouth. “After you killed Saul—my friend? No. Not a chance.”

Her fingers contracted as thin, black streaks moved along her eyeballs. “That’s a shame. For you.”

“Say goodbye to your friend here.”

He moved as if to slice his hostage’s throat.

Wynter’s body seemed to burst as it lifted into the air and shifted into a black, cloaked, oily-looking shadow. A shadow with a gaping mouth, skeletal arms, and clawed hands. Tatters dangled from the ends of its fluttering, hole-riddled cloak. It was grotesque and chilling and gave off a feeling of dread to any who looked at it.

Cain gaped, his pulse kicked up. This was no mere beastly entity. Not even close. And he was reminded of something he’d said to her in his temple when he revealed his secrets.

“God has a liking for banishing souls to purgatory. He did the same with the souls of the Nephilim, even those who were unborn, meaning the only existence they ever knew was that of the mists of darkness and so they became darkness; were branded the Rephaim, the dreaded ones.”

His consort was a vessel for one of the Rephaim. Motherfucker.

The ground beneath the monster rippled and flowed, becoming a puddle of dark water. The entity leaned back its head and let out a croaky, spinetingling screech. It was a call. A summons. And then two of its kind crawled out of the water. Then more. And more.

And, yeah, everyone in the Rephaim’s general vicinity quite simply bolted.

The screeching entities winged through the air, biting and mauling and killing everyone they came across—Jude included, who’d abandoned Anabel with a scream while she’d merely laughed and then run for safety.

Between the Rephaim and the Ancients, the troops didn’t stand a chance—especially since Baal, Inanna, and Ishtar were melting enemies with flames. Their number was being decimated fast, which meant Cain could turn his attention to Adam—always mindful to avoid the Rephaim, since they didn’t distinguish between friend or foe. Cain knew his fellow Ancients would remember that they’d need to do the same. He hoped Kali helped keep the Rephaim focused on the Aeons.

Crossing to the shield within which Adam and his brother still stood, Cain saw that Abaddon was hurling shimmering orbs at the forcefield while baring his teeth at a very pale Emmanuel. Baal’s creature was elsewhere, but Seth was aiding Abaddon in trying to penetrate the forcefield.

Cain caught Adam’s eye and smiled. The Aeon kept his chin high, but it was easy to see that he was nowhere near as undaunted as he was attempting to appear.

“Such bravery,”

Cain mocked. “Your people are being slaughtered all around you. And what do you do? Hide like a coward; leave them to suffer.”

Seth’s mouth quirked. “Are we really that surprised, though?”

Pursing his lips, Cain shook his head. “No, we’re not.”

Adam sneered at them. “You think you have won.”

“So do you,”

said Cain. “And here’s what I know. I know that it’s only a matter of time before you begin to run out of steam. The shield will then falter, and the weight of our attack will crush it. You’ll be so weak from trying to keep the shield intact that you won’t have a prayer of defending yourself against us when it’s down. You’ll die, writhing in unbearable pain.”

Seth cocked his head. “Just visualizing that makes me smile.”

“There is another way this can go,”

said Cain before Adam could snap out a livid response. “You can drop the shield now, while your level of strength isn’t low, and have a one-to-one duel with me.”

Adam scoffed. “Like the others would stand back and do nothing.”

“I didn’t say they’d do nothing,”

Cain pointed out. “In fact, Abaddon will do his utmost best to wipe out Emmanuel. And I’d imagine that Seth would fight off any troops that might attempt to save you or your brother—not that there are many left.”

“If I dropped this shield, the three of you would attempt to kill us both.”

“It’s going to drop at some point. You need to decide whether you wish to be weak when it does. Your best chance of survival is to lower it now. You know that. The question is . . . are you too damn afraid to do it?”

Adam’s upper lip curled. “I do not fear you.”

Cain felt his mouth curve. “Prove it.”

Sensing that the Aeon was going to do exactly that, Cain backed away, putting a distance between them that was appropriate for a duel.

The moment the shield went down, Adam struck hard and fast, directing a tidal wave of fire at Cain.

So predictable.

Cain slammed up his hand and sent out a burst of power that engulfed the flames. The gust of fire spun faster and faster and faster until it became a blur. A blur that soon began to buzz as it formed into a swarm of bees.

The duel then officially began.

In between zapping the buzzing insects with power, Adam threw everything he had at Cain. The Aeon was the best living wielder of elemental power among his kind, and it clearly showed. Cain repeatedly found himself dodging spears of light, showers of little rocks, harsh blasts of air, and also hails of shards that were ice cold and scalpel-sharp.

Cain met each violent surge of power with one of his own. He also made a point of continually twisting Adam’s elemental strikes—both aggravating and mocking him.

Adam had always been an expert at shutting off his emotions when it suited him. But the ability appeared to be alluding him at this moment. Was that any surprise? The city was falling apart around him, his people were screaming and dying, and the one person he loathed above all others was now using his own power against him.

A silver shockwave rammed into Cain’s body hard enough to make him rock back a step. He acted fast, pitching a ball of dark flames right at Adam. It connected with the Aeon’s side, burning through cloth and blistering skin. Adam let out an animal cry of anger.

Cain might have smiled, but then orbs of fiercely bright light bulleted through the air toward him. He ducked and dodged, but one slammed into his chest, knocking the breath out of him—it was like being hit by a steel door. Hissing at the burning sensation it left in its wake, he sharply flicked his hand, whipping Adam with a heavy blow of power that sent him staggering backwards.

They traded yet more long distance blows. Soon, both sported burns, cuts, deep slashes, blisters, and shallow stab wounds. Adam was also covered in bee stings.

As he fought, Cain was distantly aware of his uncle still battling Emmanuel close by. The Aeon was buckling under the weight of the Ancient’s assault, but Abaddon wasn’t capitalizing on it. No, he was playing with the Aeon, inflicting as much pain upon him as possible, dragging it out.

Cain jerked aside just as a beam of white-hot light dived toward him. Before he had the chance to return the blow, a bitterly cold wind flared out and pummeled him, snatching his breath, breaking a rib, and sending ripples of pain up his side.

Grinding his teeth, Cain tossed dark smoky orbs at the Aeon. Adam coughed as they hit him full-on in the face. Taking advantage, Cain swiftly followed up his attack with balls of boiling hot power that punched Adam’s head and body, leaving horrendous burns that sizzled and crisped.

Just then, Emmanuel stumbled backwards, crashing into his brother. Adam fell to the ground, whacking his head hard, dazing himself . . . completely vulnerable to a killing blow. And so, conscious of his promise, Cain allowed his monster to surface.

Firmly in the backseat now, Cain could only observe as his creature took over, shifting in a blur of motion. It unfurled its body, glaring down at Adam, a cruel anticipation swirling in its blood.

Paling, the Aeon gaped up at the Leviathan, his face a mask of sheer unadulterated fear. A fear the creature greedily drank in. Cursing in panic, Adam shakily whipped out his arm.

The creature shrieked out its fury as waves of cold air blasted its armored scales. In no mood to duel, only to destroy, the Leviathan opened its mouth and exhaled a roaring flame of fire right at Adam, melting his body and sending his soul straight to the place it belonged.

The creature then let out a hissing shriek in triumph. One that was answered by the other Leviathans. More than satisfied, the monster didn’t fight Cain when he pushed for control.

Once more in the front seat, Cain rolled back his shoulders.

“He’s gone,”

said Seth, staring at the spot on the ground where Adam had once lay. There was now only scorched grass. “And I can’t tell you how delighted I am by that.”

Taking in the rest of the city, Cain saw that few troops still lived, just as few buildings still stood.

Abaddon swiped a hand over his brow, looming over a very dead Emmanuel. “Now I need to go see if I can coax Baal to shift back. I know he’s feral, but we can’t kill him. He’s been through enough.”

“If anyone can make him listen, it’s you,”

said Cain.

His uncle nodded and then hurried off in a blur . . . just as one of the Rephaim came sailing toward Cain and Seth, a bloodthirsty screech clawing out of its throat.

Shit.

A strong otherworldly breeze washed over it, and the entity stopped abruptly. It stared at Cain through eyes he couldn’t see and then cocked its head in a bird-like movement.

Cain’s gut prodded him. “Wynter?”

It let out another screech. It wasn’t one of bloodthirst this time. It was a summons. And as the floor beneath it became dark water, the rest of the Rephaim soared toward it and dived into what could only be a portal to the netherworld.

“I guess the Rephaim feel that they’re not needed anymore,”

said Seth.

Only once the others were gone did the calling Rephaim shift in an explosive movement that sent blood and gore bursting outward before rebounding back on Wynter. And as her body began to fall to the ground, his heart slammed in his chest. Because the portal was still there.

Fuck, no.

He tore across the space between them and grabbed her hand just as she sank halfway into the black water. Seth rushed to his side, and they both hauled her completely out of the portal, which then finally closed.

Blowing out a breath, Cain hovered over her unconscious form. He had no clue if her monster had returned to the netherworld with its brethren. The only thing he knew for sure was that it hadn’t taken her soul with it, because Cain could still vividly feel her. Not like with Annette, a berserker who Wynter had tossed into the netherworld—his connection to her soul felt muted.

He brushed Wynter’s blood-soaked bangs aside, murmuring nonsense to her, wanting her to wake. She boasted a lot of injuries, but none were severe.

He sensed others gathering around them, including her coven, but he didn’t look at them. His only concern was for his witch.

Cain stilled as her eyes finally fluttered open. The pools of quicksilver went soft with relief when they locked with his, but they quickly turned shuttered as she studied him warily.

“I don’t care what you host,”

he told her, sensing what made her uneasy. “You should know better than to think I would.”

He helped her sit upright and pressed a hard kiss to her forehead.

“You’re pissed at me,”

she sensed.

“I’m pissed that you didn’t mention that Noah would betray us. That’s something you should have shared. However, we’ll discuss that later.”

“Sure,”

she easily agreed as she pushed to her feet. Grunting, she rubbed at her lower back. “But don’t expect an apology. Things had to happen the way they did. Kali insisted on it. And you can’t claim that Her plan didn’t come together.”

Wynter caught a vial that Anabel tossed her way and then quickly chugged the potion down. “Well, to be fair, it wasn’t merely Her plan. Apep, Nyx, and Nemesis were in on it, too.”

“Why?”

asked Dantalion. “What was their motivation?”

Leaning against Cain, his witch then launched into a short story that she claimed to have earlier relayed to Noah before killing and beheading him.

“I had no idea that Kali and Apep were consorts,”

said Lilith. “To be separated like that for eternity . . . What an utterly cruel punishment.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Baal,”

Wynter said to Cain. “I couldn’t. Kali was sure that if your focus shifted from vengeance to freeing your uncle—which would only be natural—things wouldn’t play out as they should, and many lives would be lost.”

Cain couldn’t even deny that the deity was right. He and the other Ancients would have been so determined to help Baal that they might even have made a move too soon as opposed to take the time to make a proper plan of attack. “So She had you free him.”

Wynter nodded. “As an apology for the deities’ neglect that led to your kind almost being completely wiped out.”

Her eyes drifted to something behind Cain. “And it seems that Abaddon managed to convince him to shift.”

A serpentine screech of pain rang out, making Cain’s head snap to the side. He watched as a silver Leviathan slumped to the ground, causing vibrations to rumble through it. It lay too still, unnaturally still. And then it shrank, altered shape, and eventually went back to its usual form.

Inanna.

She drew in a sharp, rattling breath. And another. And another. And—

Her chest stopped moving. Her body sagged. Life faded from her eyes.

Cain felt his mouth drop open, his gut twisting.

The other silver serpent stilled for the merest moment . . . and then it let out a roar-screech of agony streaked with rage and grief. A billow of flames burst out of its mouth and lit up what seemed to be the last Aeon standing. Then the serpent shifted, and Ishtar was dropping to her knees beside her sister.

“No!”

She shook Inanna hard, ordering her to wake up, get up. “You can’t leave me!”

Ishtar slammed a fist on her sister’s chest, as though it might restart her heart.

Lilith took a step toward her. “I’m sorry, I—”

Ishtar bared her teeth at the other Ancient, such pain in her eyes. “Don’t you tell me she’s gone! She isn’t!”

Ishtar went back to shaking and punching her sister, until finally she balled up her fists, sobbing wildly.

Lilith looked as though she might make another attempt to approach her, but then Ishtar tossed back her head and screamed like a banshee, her grief still raw with fury. Jumping to her feet, she hurled power around—striking buildings, trees, dead Aeons, and even the walls.

Seth cautiously approached her, repeating her name again and again. But she didn’t seem to hear or see him, lost in the madness of her grief. He touched her arm. “Ishtar—”

He cut off as she yelled in his face and punched at his chest again and again . . . until she sagged against him, sobs erupting out of her.

Seth rubbed at her back, murmuring into her ear.

Cain swallowed, pity for her swirling in his belly, grief for Inanna thick in his blood. He hadn’t been close to Inanna, but he’d respected her. Her death was a blow even for his creature. For Ishtar, it would likely be worse than losing her own life.

Wynter leaned into him in a gesture of support. No one spoke for long moments, the air alive with shock and pain and sympathy.

Cain only broke the silence when he saw his uncle stalking toward them with Baal tossed over his shoulder. “He’s unconscious?”

“Yes,”

replied Abaddon. “The bastard’s creature is stubborn, so it took a little time to convince him that he was no longer in danger and would be safe with me. Baal spoke a few words and then collapsed. I suspect he will wish to Rest for some time.”

It would be the best thing for him. Baal needed time to emotionally heal.

Abaddon looked at Inanna, his face grim. “I had told myself that no Leviathans would die here today; that we wouldn’t allow the Aeons to kill any more of us.”

His gaze moved to Ishtar. “I know what it is to watch a sibling you love so dearly die. She will never truly recover from this. A piece of herself is now gone.”

Cain nodded. Inanna had been Ishtar’s anchor, protector, and—in many ways—her conscience. Without her sister at her side, Ishtar would no longer be the same person.

Wynter’s coven quietly surrounded her, insisting on trying to clean her up with vials of liquid that Anabel produced. They then just as quietly whined at their Priestess for not telling them the story of the deities. And as Cain realized they must have always known she hosted a Rephaim yet were loyal to her anyway, he developed a newfound respect for them.

Crossing to them, Azazel tipped his head back. “Much as I hate to sound insensitive, we can’t afford to stay down here—we left many of our people up on the surface.”

“I’ll be surprised if the battle isn’t already over,”

said Cain. “But if it isn’t, we’ll finish it.”