Redemption (A NOVEL OF THE SEVEN SIGNS) (51 page)

But the pleasure was matched by the delightful sunshine in his heart. Nothing so perfect could ever be evil.

You shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.

“Forget them and their rules,” he breathed as he moved inside her. “You see me, Rose Harley. And I see you.”

CHAPTER 48

On the catwalk atop Freedom Tower, Gabriel stood in hot summer wind, sniffing the stink of burned flesh. Below, downtown Babylon burned and rioted. He swept his gaze over the smoky horizon, unsettled. It had been…a strange day.

Behind him, the air stung with diamantine chill.

Gabriel didn’t turn. “You took your time.”

Michael strode up beside him. Their auras clashed, a painful frisson. “I was busy.”

“So I hear.” Gabriel tossed the empty vial. It tumbled, spun, catching the sun. “I think this is yours.”

Michael plucked it from the breeze. He studied it, his icy eyes narrowing. “What do you want, Gabriel?”

“You killed Salome.” A fact, not a question.

Michael shrugged. Snowflakes melted on the hot catwalk. “Luuceat killed Salome. I was just there when it happened.”

“Don’t lie—”

“What did you expect?” Michael laughed, grating. “You shouldn’t have made her a Guardian if you didn’t want her dead.”

Gabriel swallowed angry thunder. “I know what you’re doing. You want Lucifer.”

“I want what I should’ve had the first time,” corrected Michael smoothly. “You know him. You know what he’s capable of. You just don’t have the balls to finish him off.”

“Last chance, Michael. I have my orders—”

“Fuck your orders!” The steel railing shattered in Michael’s grip, and he flung the shards away with an electric curse that set the air alight. “When’s the last time He said anything new? The Plan is obsolete, brother. A bunch of cryptic stone-age riddles. It doesn’t make sense anymore.”

“That’s blasphemy.”

“Blasphemy, hell. He gave the world to the monkeys and look what they’ve done with it. They spew their filth into the sky and shit in the water and scuttle about like rats, slaughtering each other in His name. He gave them everything and they pissed it away. That’s what I call fucking
blasphemy
.”

“Michael—”

“Enough, Gabriel!” Ice crackled along the catwalk under Michael’s glare. “They had their chance. They wasted it. This world is ours now. And I don’t want Lucifer in it. Stop me if you can.”

Lightning forked, striking the catwalk. Frost blasted Gabriel’s face. And Michael vanished.

Gabriel cursed, thunderous.
Lord, give me a sign. Tell me what you want. Did I make a mistake, all those years ago?

Is it over, Lord? Do I let this run its course?

The sun glared, hot and silent.

And the archangel sighed, and flashed back to his empty heaven.

*   *   *

Across the city, high in another shining glass tower, the Demon King stood on a different balcony, watching Babylon burn.

Satisfaction warmed his cold flesh. All according to plan. The vials were emptying, one by one, their perverted wrath spilling out. Michael was corrupting himself, surely as hell was afire.

And the demon princes? Azaroth wrinkled his nose in distaste. Vile, carnal creatures. Expendable. Fluvium in particular.
A petty psychopath, better off burned. Likewise Luuceat. He’d used them. They’d done their jobs. Now, they were out of his way.

And he was only three vials from his goal. Satan, Lord of Torment, erupting from the pit. The final battle.

He sighed, triumphant. His side would win. The creature once named Lucifer was a fierce warrior, his unspeakable rage stabbed wild by millennia locked in a fiery black prison. And with Michael teetering on damnation’s brink…well, he’d deal with Michael when the time came. And then no one would remain to defeat the beast.

Not Gabriel, that gray-feathered weakling. Not that crawling scum Dashiel, or his pitiful Tainted Host. No one.

No one except Azaroth. Lord of Emptiness and Despair. Second to Satan for thousands of years. Loyal caretaker in the boss’s absence…and he’d been busy. His power now swelled unimaginably vast, strengthened by untold thousands of captured souls. He’d just proved that…unexpectedly, to be sure. But nonetheless.

The Demon King smiled, and cold wind swirled. Oh, yes. Hell would reign on this dismal earth and its wretched, wormlike creatures. Holocaust, unnamable torment and destruction…and when the stinking ashes settled? He and Satan—that aged, bleeding, exhausted warrior—would have a little chat about who should be in charge.

Oh yes, they most definitely would.

Azaroth turned his face to the restless sun, and allowed himself a moment to gloat. Yes, everything was certainly going according to plan…

Behind him, feathers rustled, a soft contented female sigh. His icy heart quickened, and warmed.

And his smile faded.

Everything except this.

He turned, and slid the tinted glass door aside with a spell-charged finger. Let the preferred illusion settle around him, soft black hair, pale skin, wiry limbs.

In his bed, Jadzia smiled sleepily. Pale blond feathers spread around her, a glittering halo. She stretched out one slender arm. “Shax,” she murmured. “Come back to bed.”

His chest contracted. She was so delicate and strong. So lovely.

So doomed.

It had happened by accident. A chance meeting, an opportunity to wreak amusing havoc. She was Dashiel’s protégée, and Dashiel was his vilest enemy. He’d thought to use her. But she’d enchanted him. Impressed him with her courage. Bewitched him with her deep blue eyes.

And today, as she lay lifeless on those charred monastery stones, something deeply, strangely wonderful had happened.

Resurrection. The forbidden power still haunted his blood, a mocking echo of that bleeding, crucified trickster at Golgotha. He’d dragged Jadzia back from oblivion like a perverted savior. Used his deepest, darkest urges to restore her to life…and then…well, here she was.

Get rid of her. Wrap your hands around that pretty throat and take back the gift you gave her. Before she ruins everything
…

Compelled, Azaroth slid into bed beside her. Her warm body molded to his, her lips parting under his kiss. Instantly, his ancient, cold body responded to her, aching hard. He stroked her, coaxed her open for him, drove himself inside her with a dangerous rush of delight, and the dizzying heat that tortured him was no illusion.