Page 70 of Touched By Death

His heavy footsteps behind me sound on the gravel and then he’s there, walking beside me and annoying me with his broad and tall build. He’s a male angel in his prime. It’s easy to feel threatened. Even by my own flesh and blood.

“I meant what I said earlier; I won’t hesitate to challenge you for her.”

Of course he won’t. He’d fight to the death now that they’re bonded by fire. He might’ve before. His obsession runs deeper than he realizes.

“And I’d meet your challenge.”

He pulls me to a sudden stop, and I fight the urge to throw my head back with a frustrated growl. The last thing I need is a disagreement with my nephew while inside Aurelia’s mind. “What does that mean? Do you like her?”

Grinding my teeth, I look away toward the trees at the edge of the cemetery, where the tall branches sway in the breeze. But the bite in his tone soon draws my attention back to the fire that burns in his onyx eyes. “Let’s get one thing straight. This isn’t some sick family affair. I won’t share her with you.”

“I think you need to focus on that bloodhound nose of yours instead of picking a fight.”

He glares at me for a moment longer before scoffing and walking ahead. I let my gaze drift over his tense shoulders, noting all the ways he reminds me of my brother. They both have the same stubborn spirit. But where Lucifer is cruel and cold, Daemon is passionate and loyal.

I follow behind him, ignoring the prickle at the back of my neck. Somewhere in the distance, an owl hoots. “How confident are you that you’ll be able to locate her?”

“I’ll find her,” he says, his voice dark and low-pitched enough to stir my own inner demon.

A raven takes flight from a nearby gravestone as Daemon steers off the gravel path to cross the lawn. Wet leaves stick to my shoes, and pinecones sink deep into the soft grass. I decide to point out the obvious. “The shadows are hiding her from us.”

Daemon points to the other side of the lawn. Partly hidden behind the thick branches of a fir tree is a mausoleum with a great dome of white marble in the center. More vines crawl up its weathered wall to obscure it from curious wanderers. The intricate designs carved into the bronze door draw my eyes as we approach. “You think she’s in there?” I ask skeptically.

“I don’t think,” he drawls. “I know.”

The two life-sized angel sculptures on either side of the door seem to stare at us with empty, soulless eyes.

“Wait,” I rush out when Daemon strides ahead, driven by instinct, ready to barge inside the mausoleum without a second thought.

“We don’t know what’s in there. We need to be smart about this.”

With a scathing look in my direction, he shakes his head with disgust and strides ahead. “How did you have the fucking guts to exit Eden if you’re scared of your own shadow?”

“I’m not scared of my own shadow,” I argue, following behind him. “Don’t you feel it?”

He looks at me over his shoulder. “Feel what?”

“The eyes. We’re not alone.”

Slowing to a stop in front of the crypt, Daemon scans the tree line and the cathedral. His wings slowly unfold from his back, as black and threatening as the night. Mist swirls around his ankles when he peels his lips back into a fierce snarl, his senses on high alert. Meeting my gaze, he lets his fangs retreat before turning on his heel and entering the building. “Let’s find her.”

As we step through the large bronze door, the darkness inside swallows us whole. Daemon lights a flame that hovers in the space between us, casting a soft glow over the small, empty space.

Turning in a circle, I take in the paintings of fallen angels on the walls. Great battles between good and evil. The light and dark, engaged in an eternal dance. Two lovers circling each other, both wary and a little afraid. “Do you know what this is?” I ask Daemon.

He looks like he’s two seconds away from tearing someone to pieces. “She’s not here…”

“Look at this.”

He’s not listening. “Where the fuck is she?”

“Look at these paintings, Daemon.”

A frown mars his forehead when he seems to snap out of his own derailing thoughts. He walks up to me and lets his gaze roam over the wall. “What am I looking at?”

“These are her inner battles. Don’t you see?” I point to a sequence of paintings of a true angel at war with the darkness inside of herself. “I bet if we wait long enough, they’ll change before our eyes.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

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