Page 52 of Light

Over Raphael’s shoulder, Mary made a shrill sound of protest. She came to stand beside her mate and wrapped her arm around his waist. “She’s dangerous, Gabriel. Think you not it best to seek Michael or Chamuel’s aid?”

He ignored her, saying to Raphael, “She threatens my mate’s life.”

Raphael gave Mary a sheepish grin, shrugging his shoulders as some silent conversation played between them. She released his waist, crossing her arms over her chest. He leaned down, kissing her forehead as she glared up at him.

He searched her face for a moment before turning and ushering Gabriel out the door.

Gabriel spared one backward glance for a glowering Mary before he followed Raphael, who was moving quickly.

“It feels an age since we’ve adventured together, brother!” Raphael said excitedly.

Gabriel refrained from commenting on Mary’s mood, understanding somewhat better now what might await Raphael when he returned.

When they reached the holy armory, Raphael slid a massive sword from the wall and strapped it to his illusory scabbard. Next, he grabbed twin maces, holding one in each hand. “Ready,” he announced.

Gabriel moved along the wall, selecting a row of daggers that he slid under his own illusory band around his waist, and reached for the spear he’d used for more than nine centuries before taking Dina’s flaming sword on his quest to end the nasdaqu-ush.

It felt good in his hands, like an old friend. Though her sword’s ability to absorb flame had made it useful, the spear worked beautifully with his air magic, allowing him to send it great distances through his enemies’ corporeal forms.

“Let’s go,” he said, leaving the room and Alaxia in search of Sanura.

Chapter 35

Adalaide

“I said I was certain,” Adalaide gritted through clenched teeth.

Jophiel gave her another look of apprehension, staring down at the bloody wound in Adalaide’s middle.

“We agreed to wait until the babies were born, but every day I put it off is a day closer to Primoria.” She gasped on the words, sucking in pain-filled breaths.

She was focusing all her energy on blocking any emotions from Gabriel. If he came before they had a chance to do it, he would heal her, and their chance would be lost. It had taken all her focus to block those thoughts from him when he came. She wasn’t ready to let him know the truth. That if she died, she would not end up in Alaxia.

Her strength waned, and she pushed all her energy into blocking him as her heart slowed. “Do it. Before he senses my distress or pain.”

Jophiel nodded and disappeared.

Adalaide pressed both hands to the stabbing pain in her chest. Dark blood slid between her fingers as they loosened and her strength depleted. Hurry, she thought as she slipped from consciousness.

Adalaide blinked. It was dark, and something ached in her chest, but when she pressed a hand to the place where the demon had stabbed her, it was solid and whole. No scar tissue marred the surface of her smooth skin. It was as if they had taken her out of her battered, dying body and placed her in a new one.

She got to her feet, marveling at the lightness in her step. She felt restored. As if years had been taken off her life.

Then, a brilliant white light, blinding in its intensity, swallowed the room, and an ethereal voice spoke. “You have chosen well, Adalaide Graves, and for this, we shall bless you.”

She squinted, holding up a hand to shield her vision.

“Your sacrifice will mean a great deal to the humans.”

Was it God? Had he come to wipe away her sins? She bowed her head as a flaming sword dropped to her side.

The glow in the room diminished, the sword’s flame winking out. She reached for the handle, feeling its weight in her palm. Looking up, she glanced around the darkened room, giving her eyes time to adjust. She was surprised to find they did not need it. She could see perfectly in the dark.

The sword hummed, and it was her only warning before an inky black substance detached itself from the corner, red eyes blinking open as it dived. She swung without thinking, slicing through its middle. A thick spray of green coated her before the creature misted out of existence.

She spun in a circle as someone else landed behind her.

“I apologize for the theatrics,” Jophiel said, running a hand down her pristine white overcoat. “Zadkiel can be a bit dramatic about the whole thing.”

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