Black Fallen (2 page)

“This used to be a school,” Jake says, turning halfway in his seat to face me. His
accent is odd. Not thick and modern, like Peter’s, but older. “Gabriel has owned it
for a verra long while. Since it closed, anyway.” He turns back in his seat. “Now
’tis WUP’s active Scotland headquarters.”

Peter stops the Rover and puts it in park, and I release the door and get out. A light
mist falls, and the wind cuts through the courtyard, sharp and brisk, and stings my
cheeks. I don’t get cold much anymore, but this weather sinks straight to the bone.
Shoving my hands deep into the pockets of my ankle-length black trench, which does
at least keep my clothes dry, I study the fountain as I pass. It strikes me. I can’t
help but stop and stare. In the center is a derelict angel, wings hanging limply behind
him, his hands raised and cupped over his mouth as if shouting something at the top
of his lungs. Water spurts from his hands and washes over him into the fountain’s
pond. For some reason the statue chills me. Overhead, ravens screech, and as I glance
up a swarm of black moves from one side of the crescent to the other as the birds
fly in a flock. I notice the only sound I hear besides the water falling over the
angel are the ravens’ wings beating against the wind. They sound like harsh whispers.
Freaky weird.

Then I sense it. My eyes dart all around me. Searching. Seeking.

“You can feel it, aye?” Jake asks close to me.

I meet his alarming green eyes. “Evil,” I say. It’s so heavy. It feels like a wet,
hot blanket draped over my body. While the city doesn’t look it, there’s definitely
a feeling of it in the air.

“Pure evil, through and through,” he says.

Our gazes lock, and there’s an immediate understanding between us.

“Lucky for us, though,” he says, “we’re in the window.”

The sound of car doors slamming silences my next question (What window?) and draws
my attention back to my immediate surroundings. I turn to watch the other WUP members
climb out of their vehicles. Darius is closest, and he walks toward me with long,
purposeful strides. He’s tall and muscular, with dark auburn hair pulled back at the
nape of his neck. Beneath the dark shades lies a pair of disturbing, ancient amber
eyes. He stops a foot away. “Riley,” he says, giving me a slight nod. “Ready to begin?”

There’s an air surrounding Darius that reeks of, I don’t know. . . . mystical madness.
“I hope I can help.”

A smile splits his face, revealing a dimple in his right cheek and straight white
teeth. An amazing transformation, that smile. Truly handsome. Breathtakingly so. “You
will.”

Eli is suddenly beside me. I’m pretty tall for a woman, but Eli towers over me. He’s
just a big guy. He doesn’t touch me. He simply stands. Protectively. Something we’re
still working on, I can assure you. Eli has been a little overprotective in the past,
and for some of it, I’m eternally grateful. But he knows I like to handle myself.
“Darius,” Eli acknowledges. I resist jabbing my elbow into his gut.

Darius nods. “Dupré.”

Just then the double-hung, red-painted doors in the center of the Crescent swing open,
and out steps Gabriel, along with Sydney Maspeth. Sydney starts down the steps first,
making her way toward me. “Riley. Eli,” she says, smiling, and grabs my hands. “So
glad you came. I was worried you’d change your mind.”

“Not a chance,” I answer. Sydney is shorter than me, petite, blond, and tough as nails.
Yet she moves with a particular grace that gives away her once-genteel lifestyle.
In another life, she was a grade school teacher from the Carolinas. Then Sydney shed
her Steel Magnolias persona and now she fights monsters. Other than her sick ability
to read a dead language, she has no outstanding gifts of strength. But she’s been
trained by Gabriel and can fight like a banshee. She’s still graceful as ever. And
she’s immortal. I guess that has pluses and minuses. Even dressed in black cargo pants,
boots, and a heavy black turtleneck sweater, with her hair pulled into a ready-for-ass-kicking
ponytail, Sydney moves as though she’s floating, feet barely touching the ground.
Even her hand motions are elegant. She might as well have on a tutu.

“I see you survived Peter’s driving,” Sydney remarks.

“Barely,” I answer. “He’s worse than, well, me.”

Sydney laughs, and Gabriel is there beside her. “Ms. Poe,” he nods, then meets Eli’s
gaze. “Dupré.” He extends a hand.

Eli takes it firmly and shakes. “Gabriel.”

Gabriel, like Darius, has no family name. He is Eli’s height and just as solid. He
has long, straight black hair that he keeps pulled behind his neck in a silver clip.
His eyes are a weird mercury color that can stop you in your tracks. I’m not kidding—literally
freeze you where you stand. His face is cut and strong. Basically, he’s pretty damn
sexy.

His stare is almost as profound as Eli’s.

I’m punched in the arm. Without even turning around I know it’s Noah.

He leans down to me. “Can you feel it?” he asks. Noah has sunkissed brown dreads,
and pulls them back in a thick, untamed tail. Crazy silver eyes—much like Gabriel’s—stare
down at me.

“Hell, yeah, I can feel it,” I answer, and I know he’s referring to the same ominous
evil blanketing the city that I had detected earlier.

“Let’s all go inside,” Jake says, nodding toward the red doors. “We can get better
acquainted with each other,” he says, his eyes aimed directly on me, “and with what’s
out there.” With a quick glance to the sky, he jogs up the steps. I wonder what he’s
thinking. With Jake, you never know.

We all give one another an inquisitive look, then grab our bags from the trunks and
move toward the Crescent building that will, for now, be our new home base. WUP headquarters.

The silver blades in my duffel bag, along with the very special potions concocted
by Preacher and Estelle, my surrogate root doctor grandparents, rest as heavily on
my shoulder as the solid weight of death I feel hanging in the air around me.

* * *

Inside the Crescent it’s old, dark, and chilly despite the fire snapping in the fireplace.
The air smells of charred wood and musty earth. Dim yellow light spills from several
tarnished sconces embedded in the stone walls. They cast a hazy luminescence onto
the wood-plank floors, and I notice my shadow stretches peculiarly when I move. Like
my arms and legs are twice as long and my head distorted. Weird.

The foyer is empty. A row of old iron hooks, no higher than hip level, lines one wall
of the entryway. Coat hooks, probably for the children who once went to school here.
I don’t know. Something kinda creepy about that.

“You may settle your belongings wherever you wish on the second floor,” Gabriel says,
his eyes sweeping over all of us. “There are several chambers to choose from. The
third floor is primarily for training. We’ll meet in the library for briefing in fifteen
minutes,” he says, then nods at Jake. “Andorra?”

They both exit the room.

Sydney steps forward. Her long blond ponytail brushes the middle of her back, and
her dark clothes nearly merge with the shadows. “All right, guys. This way,” she says,
taking the lead up the wide wooden steps.

Eli’s hand rests on my lower back as we follow Sydney. His big body, although not
warm, is comforting against mine. Noah, Darius, Victorian, Ginger, and Lucian follow
behind us. The wood creaks and groans beneath our feet as we climb to the second floor.
Sydney stops just a few feet past the landing. “These apartments were for the teachers
of the Crescent School for Unruly Children,” she says, wiggling her arched blond brows.
“Two shared bathrooms: one for boys; one for girls,” she says, pointing to the middle
of the long corridor. “And a large linen closet at the end.” She points in that direction,
too. “Okay, I’ll leave you to it. Meet you in the library in fifteen.” Sydney disappears
down the steps and recedes into the darkness.

“You two,” Noah says, looking at me and Eli. “For the sake of all of us, take the
room at the very end.”

I grin and shoulder my way past him. “No arguments there.” Noah shakes his head as
I pass.

With Eli’s hand still at my back, we walk the long hallway to the last apartment.
The corridor is dark, like the rest of the Crescent, and a long strip of faded green
carpet stretches straight down the middle. The walls are of stained wood, so dark
they appear black. Several old photographs in oval frames grace the wall in a straight
line. Stone-faced women, their hair pulled back severely in tight buns, and men just
as stony stare back. No smiles. All business. I swear, it looks like they’re straight
out of a horror movie.

Ginger and Lucian take the first apartment at the opposite end of the corridor from
us. Vic is across the hall from them, Noah is one door down. Darius is next to us.

I drop my duffel on the floor and take quick stock of our room. It’s—surprise, surprise—dark.
I move through the low light filtering in through the window to flip on a lamp perched
on an old desk in the corner. The room is cast in a muted blond haze and illuminates
a fireplace; a queen-sized bed, complete with heavy green curtains; a nightstand on
either side of the bed, each with a lamp; and a tall armoire in the corner. A wooden
chest is situated at the foot of the bed. I walk to the window and look out. It’s
gray and bleak, and my attention is drawn to the distraught angel in the center of
the fountain. I stare at his face, chiseled in stone and chipped with age. His eyes
are squeezed tightly shut as he cups his hands to his mouth.

Suddenly his features blur, becoming distorted, and I blink. When my eyes focus on
his face, he’s staring directly at me. A shot of adrenaline ripples through me.

“Ready?” Eli says, his lips brushing my neck.

I blink again, and the angel’s face returns to its original stony state.

What the hell?

“Ri?” Eli says, then turns me around and stares down at me. “What’s wrong?” Instant
concern flares in his cerulean eyes. The muscles in his jaw flinch. Like I said, he
can be overprotective.

I smile. “Nothing. Just getting used to this creepy place I guess.” Not a lie. “Let’s
go before Jake gets his knickers in a wad.”

Eli stares a few seconds more, weighing what I say and determining if he believes
me or not. He probably doesn’t, and with good reason. I’m not sure I believe myself
at this point. “All right, Poe. Let’s go.”

A familiar feeling fills my insides as we leave the room and step back into the shadows
of the corridor. It’s a feeling that’s becoming too much a part of my everyday life.
I guess I have to just get used to it.

Dread.

Part T
wo

THE TEAM

I believe a man lost in the mazes of his own mind may imagine that he’s anything.

—Dr. Lloyd,
The Wolf Man, 1941

Already
, this place is eating at me. The moment I stepped out into the air, evil seeped through
the seemingly innocent stone and mist of Edinburgh. I don’t know exactly what we face,
but I know it’s going to make killing vampires in Savannah look like playing with
Barbie dolls. The Black Fallen? They’re bad. Really, really bad.

—Riley Poe

U
nlike the bleak entryway and second-floor apartments, Gabriel’s library is nothing
short of stylish. A massive room with wall-to-wall mahogany shelves lined with volumes
and volumes of books. A colossal fireplace that takes up nearly a whole wall. And
in front of the crackling fire, a long, dark leather sofa, love seat, and several
chairs. A chandelier made of intertwined stag antlers dangles overhead. Several table
and floor lamps with Victorian-era shades of claret, green, and cream add to the soft
glow from the fireplace. As we all file in, I notice Jake and Gabriel near the hearth,
their dark heads together, deep in conversation. Simultaneously they both glance up
and step forward.

“Sit,” Jake says, nodding to the seating before the fireplace.

We all do. Noah plops down on the sofa beside me, and on my other side, Eli. Darius
takes a chair; Victorian takes another. Ginger and Lucian take the love seat. Sydney
is already positioned in the overstuffed leather chair closest to the hearth. I take
notice of my companions. It still floors me to know what really, truly exists in our
world. I call them otherbeings, for lack of a better term. And they are beings, with
feelings. Tempers. Attitudes. But they’re also vampires. Werewolves. Immortals. And
then there’s me—whatever the hell I am. I guess I fall into a weird, in-between category.
Not sure yet if I like that or not, but there’s no changing it. It is what it is.

“As you all know, we’re here to deal with the Black Fallen,” Jake says. My eyes cut
to Eli. We’re both thinking the same thing: this guy doesn’t waste time. Jake crosses
his arms over his chest and his eyes sweep over us with a hard gaze. “The Black Fallen
are angels engulfed in the darkest of magic. They’re obsessed, powerful, and completely
undetectable. They’ve zero conscience. They move among humans as one of them, and
only another fallen one can recognize them straight away. They’re from an ancient
realm of holy and unholy, if you believe in that sort of thing. And they’ll not stop
until they have what they desire.”

“Swell,” Noah says, rubbing his hands together. “I love a challenge.”

I turn my head to look at him. He returns my stare. “What?” he says. “I do.”

“Well, you may change your mind soon enough, Miles,” continues Jake. “No matter how
powerful you are, there’s always something out there more powerful than you.” He looks
directly at Eli. “For a vampire, it’s the Black Fallen.”

“Why are they here?” Ginger asks.

“And what do they want?” Lucian adds.

“Darius will brief you on their history,” Jake asks. “He’s more knowledgeable about
the matter.”

Darius takes up the story. “Centuries ago, my brethren and I were forced to destroy
another sect of druids called the Celtae. They’d stolen an ancient tome of magic called
the Seiagh, filled with the most potent and powerful of evil spells. Dangerous not
only to themselves, but to mankind. It poisoned their minds, and they had begun using
it for their own personal gain. For money. Riches. Sex. Power. Only later did we realize
they had stolen it from the Black Fallen. The Seiagh’s power was legend. It needed
to be destroyed.” He takes a breath in. “Little did we know that the Celtae had hidden
it so elaborately that even we wouldn’t be able to find it. The bloody thing is masked
with magic. ’Tis been nearly an impossible task to find it. Until now.”

“So why here and why now?” I ask. “Why have the Fallen suddenly shown up seeking it
in Edinburgh?”

Darius meets my questioning gaze with intense amber eyes. “A perfect example of Jake’s
earlier words,” he says solemnly. “There are always others more powerful than you.
The Celtae, whilst not exactly more powerful, were cunning. And determined.” He rubs
his jaw with his hand. “They used magic from the Seiagh to conceal it from the Fallen,
yet were so convinced they could overcome their deaths and reclaim the book, they
created an intricate path, filled with riddles and clues, to the Seiagh’s location.
My brethren and I knew then that the Seiagh would need protecting, to keep others
from finding it. We appointed our own bloodline as these protectors. Sacrificed peaceful
eternity in order to guard the book and make sure it never, ever reached the hands
of others.” He sighs, and glances at Sydney Maspeth. “We then appointed an Archivist—one
who, centuries after the book had been gone, would be the only one left who could
read the ancient language. That would be Sydney, and she’s the only Archivist in existence.
Once the Seiagh is located, her job is to read the one ancient spell that will destroy
the book itself.”

I gaze at Sydney, who merely stares back at me. So her destiny had been decided centuries
before she was even born. Damn. Maybe all of ours were.

“And the Black Fallen?” Eli asks beside me.

“Call it . . . prophecy. They are in the position to know things of a higher power.
They created the Seiagh. The spells within gave them their power on Earth. It was
stolen from them. They know its capabilities. But they could not undo the spells keeping
the book masked.” He again glances at Sydney. “But they were very much aware of when
the Seiagh would reappear: with the appearance of the Archivist.”

“So now they’re just . . . waiting?” asks Victorian.

Darius shakes his head. “Not exactly. For as powerful as they are, they do have a
weakness. In order to maintain their human form, they must find souls to replenish
their unholy forms.” He looks at me. “Without them, the Fallen will disintegrate in
a matter of time. They are not meant to exist on this plane.”

My head is spinning. So much to take in and remember. So much stuff to learn about
otherbeings. So many rules. Who makes up all these rules anyway?

“Depends on what you believe in,” Jake answers my thoughts. “Where matters of Heaven
and Hell are concerned, well, I’m sure you know who makes those rules up.”

“And how do the Fallen manage to get willing participants to just give up their souls?”
asks Noah. He leans forward, muscular forearms resting on his knees. “Do they have
mind control?”

Darius answers. “Yes. But they have to use a medium to lure their victims.”

“And what is that?” asks Lucian.

“The Jodís,” replies Darius. His amber gaze scans the team. “Jodís are demonlike beings
created by the Fallen. A concocted being pulled straight from the pages of the Seiagh
itself. They’re made to appear human, but they’re anything but. They are . . .”

“Hideous,” I answer.

All eyes turn to me.

Eli’s hand slides over my lap and his fingers lace through mine. He squeezes. “Riley
experienced a vision through Sydney’s eyes once before,” he clarifies.

“It can be overwhelming,” Jake says, as if reading my mind. Then he looks pointedly
at me. “But I wouldna have chosen you, or the others, had you not been capable of
comprehending. As for the souls . . . the Jodís take the victim’s heart. Literally.
Take it straight to the Fallen.”

“Damn,” I say, and I say it again to myself.
Damn.
“That’s brutal.”

“Aye. It is.”

I meet Jake’s gaze. “I can handle it.”

His eyes smile. “I know that.”

“The only way to kill a Jodís or a Black Fallen is by beheading them,” Gabriel announces.

I groan out loud.

Several chuckles fill the room.

“Not to worry,” Gabriel adds. “Part of your training will be on the handling of a
broadsword.”

“What’s the other part of training?” Noah asks, all too excitedly.

“How to keep it concealed,” Sydney finishes. “Not as easy as you might think.”

“Back to the tome,” Darius continues. “In order to find the Seiagh and vanquish it
forever, there are three ancient relics that must be found. Before the Celtae were
killed we . . . extracted some information from them. Not everything, but enough.”

I shudder to think of what that extraction consisted of. Torture. The Celtae must’ve
been some hard asses.

Darius gives me a slight nod, proving my assumption. “Each is encrypted with a verse
that, when all three are combined, will lead to the physical location of the dark
tome. Once the tome is found, only Sydney—and the Black Fallen—can read the incantations.
There is only one that will disintegrate the Seiagh.”

“So, basically, it’s a race to get the book first,” Victorian says. “Why don’t we
simply kill the Fallen?”

“As long as the Seiagh exists, mankind is in danger. It has to be destroyed, as well
as the Fallen,” Gabriel says. “Unfortunately, we will have to lure them. And they
want Ms. Maspeth almost as badly as they want the Seiagh.”

Jake crosses his arms over his chest. “We’ve become more than just slayers of otherworldly
beings.” He sweeps us all with a stealthy glance. “We have to keep as many innocents
alive as possible. And Ms. Poe has certain . . . gifts no one else possesses.”

“Yeah,” Noah says. “Like she can fight like unholy Hell? And she’s mean as shit?”

I grab a piece of thigh muscle through Noah’s jeans and pinch. Hard.

His face actually turns red.

“She does have dominant mind control now,” Eli says. His voice is low, tinged with
unease. “Let me guess. She’s going to be used as bait.” He glances down at me. “She’ll
be more than up for it, unfortunately.”

Jake rubs his jaw. “Her skills, aye, they’ll certainly come in handy. Her mind control
is indeed a major factor, as well. We do have one small advantage,” he continues.
“Whatever spell they use to create the Jodís exhausts them. It takes three to four
consecutive days for the Fallen to regenerate. We know this to be accurate, as the
last two batches of Jodís Gabriel and Sydney have vanquished did not regenerate until
the appropriate amount of time had passed.”

Sydney nods. “The spell drains the Black Fallen, so it must be a pretty potent one.”

“Indeed,” Jake continues. “The Fallen have names.” He looks at me. “Canthor. Danu.
And the youngest, Athios. Two have been condemned for some time. But we know very
little about the youngest one, Athios.”

I have to wonder which of the three appeared in my dream earlier.

“So, how are we to find them?” Ginger asks. “They’re undetectable, right?”

Jake, Gabriel, and Darius share a look, then turn their stares to me. “That’s where
Ms. Poe comes in,” Gabriel says.

“We have to infiltrate their circle,” Jake continues. “They might be undetectable
to look upon and pick out of a crowd,” he says. “At first. But then, so are we.”

“Their desires and mannerisms are predictable,” Darius states. “They are not unlike
other fallen angels. They crave power. Sex. They’re posh. And they like . . . flashy
things. Plus there’s a chance Riley may be able to actually hear them, if she concentrates,
as she has remarkable hearing and a sense of smell that far exceeds even her vampire
benefactors.”

I glance at Noah. “It’s true. I do.”

Noah grins.

“And they don’t like to get their hands dirty,” Jake clarifies. “It’s one reason why
they’ve created the Jodís.” He looks at me. “To bring the souls to them.”

I draw a deep breath, push it out slowly between my teeth. “Are the Jodís detectable?”

Darius nods. “Aye. Their pupils aren’t normal. They’re vertical.”

I stare back. “So we have to be close enough to see their pupils before taking them
out?”

“No,” Sydney says. “They cannot tolerate the daylight. And they have a certain scent
only another otherbeing can detect. They stink to high Heaven.”

My brain twists at all that’s been said. So much to know, so much to understand.

“Taking out newlings is much easier,” I say under my breath. Just months ago the extent
of my dealings with the paranormal extended to slaying newly created vampires. I could
tell this would be a lot more challenging.

“That’s why we’ll begin training right away,” Jake says. “You’ll break into groups.
Darius, Gabriel, and I will enlighten you on the use of a broadsword. We’ve a couple
of specialists paying us a visit later on. Quite proficient in the use of a sword,
these two. You’ll appreciate their expertise.”

Beside me, Noah rubs his hands together in anticipation. “I love swords.”

“Well,” I say, standing. My insides are already taut with anticipation. “Let’s get
at it, then.”

“Let me emphasize one thing. For all we know, the Fallen have found a way to overcome
their regeneration time. I don’t trust their window, or them,” Jake adds. “It’s safer
to assume they’re strengthened now, creating more Jodís.”

“Which means more innocent kills,” I say.

“Unfortunately, yes. Sydney and Gabriel just disposed of the last of them two days
ago. But they’re fast and difficult to spot, especially after they’ve been newly created.
Perhaps with more of us we can eliminate the number of innocent victims. We’ll spend
what free time we have now to familiarize you with Edinburgh and her fishbone streets,
closes and wynds, as well as honing your skills. We’ll break to eat first,” Jake says,
then scans the group. “For those who eat food, the kitchen is fully stocked, or there’s
a chippy just out the gates of the Crescent on Canongate, across the street. Bene’s
Fish and Chips. Great takeaway. Plus numerous other establishments along the Mile.
For those who prefer to drink,” he says with a grin, “yours will be in the red refrigerator.
Courtesy of Preacher. There is a month’s supply. Let’s meet upstairs in thirty minutes.
And if you go out, watch your backs.”

As I fix my gaze on Darius, Jake, and Gabriel, I have a feeling training with three
ancient Celtic immortals will be slightly different than hand-to-hand fighting with
the Dupré family.