Page 53 of Touched By Death

Releasing a soft chuckle, Ronan shakes his head and sets off toward the door. Daemon watches him go before turning to me and Dmitriy. “I’ll get every guard in the building to keep an eye on her.”

I clap his shoulder on my way past. “Dari is right. Let’s get our angel back.”

Chapter Nineteen

DAEMON

After hunting high and low for Amenadiel, we find him hidden deep in the belly of the library back at the academy, of all places. Arms laden with old, spine-creased books, he pauses when he turns and spots us. His eyes flick between us all before settling on Dmitriy. “I guess you got through to them, after all.”

As he breezes past us in a flurry of cologne and whiskey-scented breath, I follow hot on his heel. With a heavy thump, the books land on the nearest table, disturbing a leaflet that goes flying. He clicks his finger, lighting the lanterns on top—three in total.

Before he can sit his ass down on the chair that he pulls out, I growl, “How do we bring her back from the shadows?”

Without even so much as a look in my direction, he sits down, reaches for the book on top, and opens it to the first page. “If I knew that, I wouldn’t need to waste hours reading through pointless material written by clueless angels, would I?”

His response tightens my muscles, but I let it slide as my gaze snags on the title of the book on top of the pile. I pick it up and take a seat in the nearest chair.

“What’s it about?” Alaric asks, no doubt intrigued by the sight of me willingly picking up a book.

“Timelines,” I mumble, distracted as I scan the page.

“You’ll find some useful information,” Amenadiel replies, turning another page, “but most of it is nonsense.”

“You’re such a pro, right?” I mutter, and his eyes flick up from the book.

Watching me from across the table as the flames in the lanterns cast a soft glow over his face, he states matter-of-factly, “Some of us are powerful enough to travel through tears in the veil. Others are not.”

“You should write a book.” Alaric takes a seat beside me, the chair scraping on the stone floor. “You know more than most angels here.”

“I don’t know enough,” he says bitterly, and there’s something in his tone that makes me look over at him. I study the way his jaw flexes with frustration and how his dark eyes fly over the page while he tugs at his dark hair with his free hand that’s not drumming out a beat on the desk.

“Why are you so tense?” The accusation in my tone doesn’t go unnoticed.

He drags his eyes up to meet mine. But instead of replying, he snorts dismissively, tosses his book aside, and grabs the next one in the pile. “This is bigger than you young ones can grasp.”

Abandoning my book, I ease back in my seat and cross my arms, biceps bulging against the straining fabric. “Explain it to us.”

Dmitriy is watching our exchange closely, hovering on the outskirts of my periphery. The urge to rip his fucking head off for harboring any kind of feelings toward the little witch begs me to fly out of my seat and attack him. It takes all my willpower not to listen to that voice. Now there’s something else grating at me. I don’t like the bead of perspiration on my uncle’s temple.

“Genesis is back for revenge. She claims God Himself orchestrated all of this in His own perfect timing to seek revenge on the seven angels who turned their back on Him. Her claims go so far as to say that’s why the gates opened for Aurelia.” His eyes flick between us all. “If that’s true, God used Aurelia as a weapon against us. To weaken us.” He looks at me, and a muscle works in his jaw. “The next one in line to fall under her spell is your father. And if your father falls…”

My heart stalls in my chest.

No fucking way.

“This is far-fetched,” Ronan interjects, shattering my thoughts. “Are you saying she’s making us fall for her? Then what?”

With a shrug of his shoulders, Amenadiel sits forward to read another page. “I don’t know God’s ultimate plan for revenge. But I do know none of you would ever hurt her, and that makes her dangerous.”

“Hang on,” I say, placing my elbows on the table. “You said the next one in line to fall under her spell is my father…”

Amenadiel turns another page.

“Do you like her, too?”

When he doesn’t reply, a growl rips through my vocal cords. I slam my hands on the table, relieved when he finally cuts his eyes to me. “Answer the fucking question.”

“Don’t piss me off, Daemon. It won’t end well for you.”

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