Her Demonic Angel (Her Angel Romance Series Book 5) (47 page)

Erin raised her head, opened her eyes and held his gaze.

She could do this.

She could sacrifice herself for the greater good.

CHAPTER 35

V
eiron skidded to a halt on the hot sand, his eyes wide and arms still outstretched. Heat curled up from the glowing crack in the ground and he stared at the place Erin had been, replaying how she had reached for him and called his name. He had reacted on instinct, his desire to protect her seizing him so fiercely that he had obeyed in an instant, running for her, determined to save her from the two demonic angels that had come for her.

He breathed hard, bare chest heaving, and lowered his gaze to the glass fault line in the sand.

Erin had known they were coming.

Why hadn’t she told him?

He unleashed a growl of frustration and called his weapons to him.

He frowned at the black and red double-ended spear in his grasp.

This was not his weapon.

Or was it?

With another growl, he threw it into the sand, so hard that the blade at one end disappeared completely. The white sand around it fizzled and melted.

What the fuck was going on here?

Veiron reeled at his use of the profanity. That wasn’t like him.

His head split and he dropped to his knees, doubled over and clutched it in both hands. He gritted his teeth and growled again. The pain eased but he stayed where he was, curled up and staring at his knees, trying to make sense of everything.

Why hadn’t Erin told him that they were coming for her? He could have protected her. He would have fought the two Hell’s angels for her and stopped them from taking her down to her father. Her father. He frowned and then screwed his eyes shut. She hadn’t.

She couldn’t have.

He wouldn’t let her.

Voices broke the steady sound of his breathing and the gentle waves caressing the shore to his left.

The others were coming.

Veiron picked himself up off the sand, dusted it off his knees and pulled the spear from the sand. He would need his armour and would need Apollyon to open a gate for him. First, he had to deliver Erin’s message.

Amelia and Marcus ran towards him, their fear evident in their expressions and the panicked edge to their eyes as they darted around, searching the area. When Amelia’s gaze came to rest on him, she stopped dead and Marcus almost slammed into her.

“Where did you get that?” Amelia’s voice was hoarse and she stared wide-eyed at the weapon in his hand. “Oh my God… where’s Erin?”

Tears lined her grey eyes and she stormed towards him.

“Did they take her? Why didn’t you stop them? Did you let them take her, you bastard? I knew no good would come of trusting you!” She punched him hard on the jaw and he stumbled to his right, put his foot out to stop himself and straightened.

He turned on her, fury boiling in his veins, burning from her accusations and her attack on him.

“She knew they were coming,” he snapped and pushed her away from him. “She didn’t tell me. She distanced herself so I couldn’t reach her in time to stop them.”

“It’s still your fault!”

Veiron snarled. “Why don’t you just back the fuck off?”

Her eyes shot wide again. “What did you just say?”

“I said back the fuck off. I have this. Apollyon can open a gate and I am going down there to kick the snide little fucker’s arse and get her back.”

Everyone stared at him now.

“What?” he bit out and they all jumped, even Apollyon.

“Are you feeling alright?” Marcus said and eyed him closely.

Veiron’s shoulders itched but he ignored his wings. They would have their freedom soon enough. Right now, he needed to focus on getting a gate to Hell open.

A blast of heat hit his back, sending him tripping forwards. Marcus caught him and Veiron straightened, intending to thank him for the catch, but found Marcus staring beyond him, sheer disbelief in his pale blue eyes.

He turned to see what all the fuss was about.

A white portal blazed above the spot where Erin had disappeared.

“Did you do that?” Marcus said, tone low and filled with caution and curiosity.

“I do not think so.” Veiron walked towards the portal and reached his free hand out towards it. It radiated heat at such a temperature that he was sure it would burn him if he moved any closer than a metre.

“Where did you get the weapon?” Marcus’s voice hadn’t grown any less curious.

Veiron looked down at the double-ended spear in his right hand. “I think it’s mine.”

“What the hell?” Amelia said and he glanced over his shoulder at her. The moment his eyes met hers, her anger and confusion melted into fear that stabbed him in the heart. “You don’t think…”

He nodded. “I think Erin has cut a deal.”

Amelia shook her head. “She wouldn’t. Not after what happened last time.”

“You are right. This is my fault. I talked to her about how I wanted my memories back and she went to see her father.” Veiron stared at the spear, not wanting to see the hurt and fear in Amelia’s eyes. “I will fix this.”

“I do not think this is a case of her merely getting your memories back. Can you remember anything?” Apollyon approached him, his height and breadth giving him a formidable appearance despite his casual attire. Veiron shook his head. He couldn’t remember anything more than he already did. “You died. Up until now I thought that Heaven had simply changed your memories but something else is at work here.”

Marcus stepped forwards. “Apollyon is right. You shouldn’t be able to wield a demonic weapon and create a portal.”

Veiron looked back at the portal in question and then down at the spear. They were both right. They had thought Heaven had changed his memories because he had remembered something about Erin but that couldn’t be the case, or it wasn’t the only thing they had done to him. He had the power to create a portal to Hell as he had seen himself do in the memories the pool had shown him and had the same weapon as he’d wielded as a demonic angel.

“I need to see what happened after my death,” Veiron said and leapt into the portal.

He landed hard on the black basalt ground of Hell and rolled onto his feet. The portal behind him didn’t close. It burned hotter and brighter, and Amelia, Marcus and Apollyon tumbled through it. Apollyon landed on his feet as though he had jumped through portals a thousand times. Amelia landed in a heap and Marcus hit the ground beside her. He was first onto his feet and helped her up.

“You were not supposed to follow me.” Veiron huffed and scoured the area. They were on the plateau near the bottomless pit. It made sense that his portal would bring him here. It was the place he had been thinking about when he had leapt into it. It was the only place in Hell he knew.

Or at least could remember.

“Well, we’re here now, so live with it.” Amelia pressed her hands into the small of her back and arched forwards. She sighed as though whatever had been bothering her had cracked back into place. “I need a new outfit… one suitable for kicking butt.”

Her summer dress disappeared, replaced by a flowing white garment that wrapped around her body and faded to blue at the hem midway down her thighs. Silver armour edged with blue appeared over her chest, moulded to the shape of her breasts, and encased her back. Strips of armour melted into existence over her hips and then white boots appeared, followed by greaves to protect her shins. The last pieces of armour to appear were her vambraces, wrapping around her forearms. She unfurled her silvery half-feather half-leather wings and flapped them.

Marcus had changed into his armour too and his eyes swirled silver-blue as he scanned the area, remaining close to his love.

Apollyon switched his clothes in the manner of someone who had long ago tired of the theatrics and found it boring and tedious now. One moment he was wearing jean shorts, and the next he was in his gold-edged black armour. His black wings erupted from his back, their span more impressive than Amelia’s smaller wings, and even Marcus’s.

Veiron couldn’t compete either and he didn’t need his wings yet so he held them at bay. He focused and switched from his casual mortal attire into his blue armour.

It was darker than before, closer to midnight blue rather than royal blue.

Something definitely wasn’t right and he was going to find out what the fuck it was. He growled and sheathed his spear at his waist.

“Now, there is anger in its purest, most undiluted, and beautiful form.”

Veiron snapped around to face the owner of the voice and found himself staring at Apollyon. He sat on one of the tall domed black rocks that surrounded the pool, one leg bent at the knee and one trailing down his makeshift throne. Only something was off about him.

Veiron had watched his armour materialise on him not a minute ago but now he only wore his loincloth and the strips of metal that covered it were tattered and old, and his black greaves and boots. His hair was shorter and wild, and his eyes were golden.

Not Apollyon.

He grinned at Veiron and tugged on a thick black chain. Someone groaned. Veiron’s gaze shot down and widened.

“Nevar!” he said and tried to race forwards to help the guardian angel but the real Apollyon caught his right arm and held him back.

Veiron tried to shake him, intent on freeing the guardian angel from the chain that wrapped around his bare bloodied chest, circled his neck, snaked up his injured arms and bound his wrists above his head. A short length of chain ran up the rock and ended in a huge black metal ring driven into the top of it near the man who looked like Apollyon. Nevar’s feet dangled a few inches from the ground. How long had he been chained, suspended against the rock? Half of his armour was missing, only the pieces around his hips remaining and one of his greaves. The other was gone, leaving his right shin exposed, and his boots were gone too, as were his wings. Veiron hoped Nevar had merely hidden them to stop his foe from harming them. Lacerations, blood and bruises marred every inch of his body. Veiron growled, his anger spiking at the sight of an angel in so much pain and distress.

The man holding him grinned and yanked the chain again, tearing another pained moan from Nevar.

“You know this wretch?” The man’s smile held and Veiron had never seen such pure evil. It shone in his golden eyes as he turned them on Nevar, grinning down at him. Pride fluttered across his face and he reached down and stroked Nevar’s bruised and swollen cheek. The white-haired angel tried to move out of reach of the man’s caress but the chain bit into his neck, choking him.

“Let him go.” Apollyon’s voice boomed around the black cavern.

Nevar’s green eyes slowly opened and settled on Veiron. He swallowed and his hands twitched, and then he tried to catch the chain. The man holding him pulled on the chain again, stretching Nevar’s arms, and he cried out, his scream echoing for long seconds after he had bitten his tongue to silence himself.

“Let him go.” Veiron drew his spear. “Or I swear I will butcher you.”

The man laughed and kicked Nevar in the head, ripping another cry from him. “No… I do not want to release him.”

He turned his focus on Apollyon.

“Brother,” he said and Veiron looked at Apollyon out of the corner of his eye. The dark angel glared at the man.

“Never call me that.” Apollyon drew one of his golden swords out of the air.

The man shrugged, shifting his black wings. “Perhaps you are more like a father.”

Apollyon growled and the air around him thickened, flooding Veiron with a sense of his immense power. “Definitely never call me that. Release the angel, Asmodeus.”

“No.” Apollyon’s doppelganger shook his head. “I like him where he is. The angel was prying, seeing things that he did not like. I will make him forget.”

Nevar bucked and pulled at the chain, pushing himself up the rock with his bare feet. “No. I don’t want to forget… not as Veiron has.”

“Be quiet.” Asmodeus pulled the chain again and it tightened around Nevar’s throat. He looked down at the guardian angel.

Apollyon roared a battle cry and attacked. The doppelganger snarled, released Nevar’s chain and a sword materialised in each of his hands. He launched himself from the rock and crashed into Apollyon. Apollyon rolled with him, avoiding his blades, and came out on top. He kicked off, spread his huge black wings and beat them, flying towards the edge of the plateau.

Asmodeus followed him.

Marcus and Veiron stared after them.

“I’ll explain about him later,” Amelia said and rushed over to Nevar. She drew a silver sword out of the air and brought it down hard, smashing the chain. Nevar fell to the ground in a heap, wheezing as he fumbled with the chain.

Veiron carefully removed it from his bloodied wrists, his arms and bruised neck. Marcus stood with his back to them and his two curved silver blades in his hands, watching the fight between Apollyon and his twin, guarding them all, and Veiron was grateful. Time was of the essence. He needed to make sure that Nevar was going to be all right and then he had to see what Heaven had done to him. Once armed with that knowledge, he would go after Erin. He needed to see it first though, was sure that it was crucial he know now what had happened to him because he shared Apollyon’s suspicion that Heaven hadn’t changed only his memories.

“What happened?” Veiron said as he finished removing the chain and cast it aside.

“I saw it all,” Nevar whispered, voice hoarse. He struggled to breathe without coughing and sat back, leaning against the rock. He closed his eyes and sighed. “I needed to know the truth. I came here and found the pool. I saw, Veiron. They made you forget.”

“I know.” Veiron laid his hand on Nevar’s bare shoulder and wished there was something he could do to ease the angel’s pain. He glanced at his hand. He could heal him.

He drew a deep breath and focused on his hand. The wounds beneath it healed and he moved his hand, sweeping it over only the deepest cuts and then the black bruising around Nevar’s neck, until they began to heal and fade.

“I wish I could do more,” Veiron said and curled his fingers into a fist. “I cannot spare the strength though. I must find Erin.”