Samael

  The lightning bolt was too close and too massive. It sent the tree house inhabitants sprawling to the wood floor, rolling in opposite directions like leaves tossed on the wind. As the archangels’ Guardian, he was used to keeping track of several people at once, and from the corners of his eyes, he’d watched his charges go their separate ways.

  Rhiannon covered Mimi’s body with her own, shoving her down behind an overturned coffee table. Michael, ever the strategizing warrior, used the confusion of the lightning to outsmart his green dragon opponent. As he was knocked back by the blast, he turned and sliced across the dragon’s exposed stomach with the edge of his shimmering long sword.

  Uriel and Eleanore had been standing back-to-back, Eleanore using her telekinesis to toss large objects into her enemies, Uriel using his archangel ability to transmorph immaterial objects at a molecular level. Eleanore would pick up a piece of wood with her mind and toss it at a Phantom – and Uriel would turn that wood into lead or gold half way there so that it slammed like a freight train into the monster, taking him down at once.

  Juliette preferred to run her fight from above, and she had sprouted a pair of glorious eagle-colored wings at the beginning of the fight, which she used with tremendous expertise to weave under, over, and around her enemies as she, too, utilized both telekinesis and lightning to her advantage.

  Her mate, the Messenger Angel preferred to simply use his fists for his fights. That was Gabriel, ever the brawler. The only thing that could have been more perfect for him would be to fight with a beer in one hand.

  Sophie Bryce had learned very early on that her greatest strength as an archess was in her ability to heal. All of the archesses could do this, but Sophie seemed capable of going deeper and for longer periods of time when it came to mending wounds. So, probably partly due to this talent and partly due to the fact that she was a little gun-shy from having just been brutally attacked, she ran interference for the fight. She ran between the brawlers, drawing monster attention and dodging out of the way so others could take the monster by surprise. Then she would return, and in “tag” style, she would speed by an archess or archangel and touch them to heal whatever wounds they’d sustained.

  Azrael…. Well, Az was clearly still angry about what had happened to his mate. All it took was that single glance for Max to see the fangs, claws, and pile of dead guys at the vampire king’s booted feet. He was knocking them over like a bowling champion on a perfect night, and his eyes burned like two rampaging suns.

  But each of them caught the lightning blast in their own way and dispersed in the interrupted battle. When the blast cleared and the buzzing took over in Max’s ear drums, he propped himself up on straight arms to find the Man in White was gone.

  In his place was a circle of black dandelions.

  The spot of blooming black was obliterated the next second, when a wraith trampled it just before being caught mid-stride by a spinning ball of fire. Max followed the trail of fire to find Rhiannon and Mimi again working together to take the bad guys down.

  Max did a quick head-count.

  Ten of them. Eight archangels and archesses, Mimi, and Max.

  Flash, flash, flash….

  No fewer than three dozen enemies, and more approaching with every open and close of a portal. They seemed to be waiting in a line somewhere, an entire army on some rise, each rank moving forward when its time came to take the place of comrades that had fallen before it.

  They failed to let it show, but he could sense his charges weakening. He could feel them, deep down. We can’t win this fight, he thought. Gregori had the upper hand.

  Max glanced down at the forest he could see through the scorched holes in the floor of the tree house. It was frankly amazing that the structure was still standing at this point – or rather, floating. It was some major magic that had put the home together. It had been Angel’s magic.

  But down below, the unprotected natural world was beginning to look like one of the nine circles of Hell. A batch of trees had been somehow frozen, and the tops of their leaves crackled like chandelier chimes. Animals took to flight in large flocks and screamed in unnatural fear as they ran away down below. Another copse of trees was on fire. A third portion, yet, was warping, going from wood to stone and back again. The magic of Gregori’s army was colliding with that of the archangels and archesses, and before long, nothing would be in its natural state any longer.

  The Man in White was going to take down the entire Brazilian Rainforest as he whittled away at the archangels and their mates.

  Mimi shouldn’t be here, Max thought desperately, turning back to look at the child where she stood in the midst of it all. She was so small – but with her feet planted firmly apart, and a look of fearless determination on her youthful face, she was also not small. Little dragon, he thought.

  Then he blinked. Mimi! She was a red dragon! She could contact the other dragons!

  Christ, why didn’t I think of this sooner? Az could have called upon his vampires for help, but there were no shadows up here for the vampires to use for transport, and only the oldest of them possessed that ability anyway.

  But Mimi’s brethren could help them! Dragons were capable of flying with unparalleled speed – he’d seen it himself! If she could contact them, and they agreed to help, they might be there in time to tip the scales in the archangels’ favor!

  Max scrambled to his feet, ducked under a wyvern, and dove with an arched back under a swipe by a Phantom’s outstretched claw. He felt its cold race over his spine as it passed by, sending chills throughout his entire body. He hit the ground, rolled to his side, and once more got his feet under him. Somehow, he made it all the way across the room without injury, and finally slid into first base in front of Mimi.

  “Mimi, call the dragons!”

  He suddenly felt odd asking her to do this. He’d once seen a movie called The Labyrinth, in which the main female character at one point asks her friend to “call the rocks.” This image for some reason flashed through his mind as he gave his order.

  Mimi looked down at him. Her red hair was naturally crimson, shimmering like spun rubies. Her eyes were glowing like Azrael’s, spinning with flickering flames and pent up magic. In her outstretched palms, she held two equally spinning and deadly fireballs. She smiled though, and despite the fangs she flashed, he recognized the child in that smile.

  “Sure thing!” she quipped just before she tossed both fireballs in the air, and Rhiannon used telekinesis to whisk them to their monstrous destinations. The little red dragon was going to grow up to be truly amazing.

  Max wasn’t the only one who’d taken note of her burgeoning abilities. The leeches had too. And because the leeches had begun slinking toward her, others began to notice. Max caught sight of two Phantoms to his right who were shifting their focus toward her. A wraith and another Phantom did the same to his left. He looked over his shoulder to see a Gargoyle’s gaze locked on the red-haired girl.

  Max turned back around just in time to see one of Gregori’s dragons close in. A green dragon dove like an emerald bomb from the sky, talons outstretched and open, jaws gaping, teeth glinting.

  “Mimi, get down!”

  But Rhiannon was already shoving the girl to the ground, covering her head with her own upper body. The archess held up her right hand, and her green-white gaze narrowed. Lightning pulled from the skies overhead to slam into the dragon’s back. The dragon screeched out an ungodly sound, filling the tree house with it. Its back arched, its mouth opened, and lightning sizzled between its jagged teeth.

  Max looked back down to find Mimi shut her eyes really tight. He saw her lips moving silently, and could lip read well enough to tell she was saying the same term over and over again: “Please come quick, please come quick, please come quick….”

  Chapter Forty-Two

  All she wanted was to be some place safe. She couldn’t actually think of anywhere they could go where Gregori and his minions wouldn’t be able to follow them. So
she just thought, “safe place, safe place, safe place,” over and over again as she clutched the orb tightly in her fist.

  Around her waist, Sam’s arm kept her secure, and the hardness of his body against hers was both reassuring… and not. He felt a little too good.

  He’d outsmarted a gargoyle. Then a dragon. Nothing seemed daunting to him. He was mortal, he’d lost all of his powers, and yet he’d whisked her to relative safety and stood back up to fight like a man.

  What kind of man did that take?

  Angel felt her chest and neck growing warm by the time the portal around them re-opened to deposit them in their new location. She realized she’d lost focus and concentration, and she wondered where on Earth the orb had decided to take them.

  Solid ground appeared beneath her feet, and she looked down. It was a marble floor. She looked back up as the rest of the portal dissipated, and realized they were in a large, plushly designed living room.

  A huge flat-screen TV at one end of the room was currently switched on. It was turned to a news channel; at the moment, broadcasters were reporting on strange weather phenomenon and something about monsters.

  Sam pulled away, releasing her. His attention was tuned in to the room around them. “I’ve never been here before,” he said.

  “Me neither,” agreed Angel.

  He eyed her questioningly. “Then why would the orb bring us here?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. But… it seems familiar somehow.”

  He nodded. “Agreed.”

  They both turned slow circles, taking everything in. The ceiling overhead was vaulted, giving the room a spacious quality. The couches and love seats were leather and thickly padded, the rugs were muted in color but ultra-soft, and there were surfaces and coasters for drinks pretty much everywhere.

  A merrily crackling fire was already lit in the hearth, which was a massive stone structure replete with gold-gilded carvings of what looked like gargoyles and angels. But trailing from one side of the hearth and up to the ceiling to finally end where the chandelier began was a massive crack in the wall.

  Another crack could be seen in the marble floor, beginning near an adjacent hallway and running continuously across the living room until it disappeared beneath a pair of thick rugs. Other cracks in the structure could be seen here and there, most small, but some larger. They were highly unnerving for some reason.

  One wall of the living room sported double glass doors that appeared to lead into a yard or balcony. Thin gauzy curtains disguised what lay beyond, but she could see enough to know the glass was intact, despite the cracks prevalent in the rest of the room. The knobs on the double doors were gold, and just like in the Nautilus, Angel could tell it wasn’t brass or gold-color. It was real gold.

  That same gold had been used to line the edges of the doors, the insides of the window panes, and basically every surface one might have to pass through or use to gain entrance into the house. If it was a house. It could have been an apartment. All she’d seen so far was a living room.

  An adjoining open-concept kitchen revealed an enormous refrigerator. Going purely on a hunch, Angel thought of something she wanted. She entered the kitchen and opened the fridge.

  “Dr. Pepper,” she whispered as she pulled the frosted glass bottle from the fridge’s interior. These vintage glass bottles were no longer used for this beverage; they hadn’t been made in decades. Now she knew whose house this was – and it was indeed a house. A very big, very magical one. It also explained why there was gold lining all the entrances.

  “What did you say?” asked Sam. He’d joined her and was standing at the archway leading from the kitchen.

  She turned toward him, holding up the bottle. “I think I know where we are.”

  Sam nodded, “I have an idea as well.”

  At the same time, they said, “This is the archangels’ Mansion.”

  Angel smiled. “I’ve always wondered what it looked like inside. But I didn’t think anyone could get in here except the archangels, their archesses, and their Guardian.”

  “They can’t,” said Sam, shaking his head and turning his attention to the ceiling, where more cracks had made their way through stone. “Something isn’t right.”

  “You mean… other than the fact that we’re here, in a place we’re not supposed to be able to get into, while the Mansion’s real owners are back at my house fighting our battle for us?”

  Sam regarded her. His stormy eyes didn’t look any less filled with magical power now than they had before he’d cast his little spell. “Believe me, Angel, Gregori’s fight is with everyone.” He touched a marble pillar, running his finger along an unnatural fissure. “I don’t think anyone is going to get out of this one untouched.”

  “You’re right about that.”

  Angel nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of the new voice. The Dr. Pepper slid from her grip and crashed to the floor, where it exploded into a flower of tiny shards.

  Sam turned, moving into the room to shield her from the newcomer – as Abraxos the Adarian stepped out of the shadows of the living room’s adjacent hallway.

  In the most basic sense of appearances, Abraxos, also known as Kevin, didn’t look much different now than he had the first time Angel laid eyes on him approximately twenty years ago.

  His build was still tall and strong, he still had black hair, and his facial features were the same. But that was where the similarities ended. Whatever had befallen Abraxos, the change was the most visible in his eyes, which glowed a terrible deep red, as if someone were holding a light behind a film of blood. They were a frightening contrast against the sallow color of his pale skin and the blue-black beneath his eyes.

  Dried blood covered much of his clothing, and Angel caught the smell of rusted metal. It was at stark odds with the scent of fresh fallen rain coming from Sam, and probably from her as well, though she was used to that by now. Abraxos smelled dirty, in so many ways. His hands were brownish-red with other people’s death, and she knew his mind was as muddled in mire as was his body. No angel had ever fallen as far from grace as he had, once a warrior in his realm’s army, created for fighting exactly the kind of monster he’d eventually become.

  Abraxos was the Fallen One. Not Sam.

  “Abraxos,” said Sam calmly. He radiated calm from where he stood before Angel, shielding her from the re-animated vampire.

  Abraxos smiled, revealing those fangs he’d so quickly become infamous for. “Hello Angel,” he greeted, ignoring Sam to gaze steadily at her instead.

  She scooted back a step, her mind spinning. It was two against one. But he was Abraxos, an angel who’d become a vampire who’d become a heart-ripping monster. And they were only human. And who knew what else might be lurking down that hallway behind him.

  Maybe they were all here, and Abraxos was just toying with them.

  “How did you get in here?” Sam asked, amazingly keeping his calm as he expertly turned the Adarian’s attention back on him.

  “Well actually,” said Abraxos. “You let me in, Sam.”

  Chapter Forty-Three

  What was that supposed to mean?

  Abraxos grinned, bearing those fangs as if he were a rabid dog. “As it turns out, something about the two of you together?” he pointed at them both, “Whatever you did to get in here, you opened the door to a house half the supernatural nations have been trying to get into for two-thousand years.” He chuckled, and it was unnerving. He took a step toward them, his hands shoved in the front pockets of his dark blue jeans. “So I guess I should thank you. Tonight’s my lucky night.”

  “You’ve been waiting for the opportunity to enter the Mansion?” Sam asked incredulously.

  “Call it an old bone to pick.”

  What was it about bones and everyone needing to pick with them?

  “I never really thought it fair that the Four Favored got to play house while the rest of us had to make do with whatever the planet had to offer.” Abraxos continued to
approach, and Sam stood his ground – but Angel really wanted to retreat. The Adarian was radiating wrongness. It was a crazy kind of wrong. Like he’d snapped.

  Or would any second now.

  “Don’t tell me it never occurred to you, Sam? How spoiled those four are? Not only getting their own women, but their own fucking mansion?” He laughed, but there was no humor in it. “But now that I’m in…” He looked around, and Angel could tell he’d noticed the cracks too. “I have to tell you, I’m a little underwhelmed.” He touched the same fissure in the marble that Sam had run his finger along moments ago. “This shit hole is falling apart.”

  “What do you want, Kevin?” Sam asked, using the man’s human name. From the slight twitch of the Adarian’s eye, it seemed that Sam used the name just to irritate him.

  “Oh, I think you know.” Abraxos straightened. Angel’s fear ratcheted up. His expression grew serious, his smile disappeared, and the red in his eyes darkened to a near black. “Gregori’s got this notion that the two of you should never get around to partying on the Posturepedic. Says it’ll bring about the Culmination. Who knows? Maybe he’s right. Though that’s what everyone thought about the first four too.”

  On the television in the living room behind Abraxos, the news casters went on about reports of zombie activity….

  “Quite a coincidence, Mark. What do you think?” asked a brunette with perfect layers and too much makeup.

  “Well, Dayna, twelve different reports from seven different states, and you have to wonder.”

  “Is it something in the water?” Dayna half joked. But the smaller window beside her on the screen showed bodies being dragged out of a diner under white sheets and packed into meat wagons.

  Mark shook his head. “Unfortunately, whatever it is, and wherever it’s coming from, the body count is rising.”