Then there was the issue of him being an asshole in general. But she was kind of starting to appreciate it, especially when it was directed at someone other than her.
“I don’t like this,” he said softly, one hand rising to cup her cheek.
Heart pounding with sudden urgency, she froze in the moment, shocked by his tenderness and her response to it. He’d just stripped away all her barriers with a mere touch.
Suddenly, something jolted the platform. The tiles beneath their feet buckled, and they careened into the wall, only Stryke’s strength keeping them from going down. Still, he smashed up against her as her spine hit the plaster wall.
The pain didn’t even register. There was nothing but shaking and trembling, and the two of them. His eyes locked on hers. Another jolt, and he dipped his head, capturing her mouth in a brief, passionate kiss.
When he pulled away, his gaze was scorching hot, and she felt herself wanting to be burned. “Be careful. DART needs you.”
A thread of disappointment filtered through her. “Just DART?”
A smile curved one corner of his lips. “StryTech too.”
She smiled back because she didn’t hear, “StryTech too,” she heard, “Me, too.”
“Do you really think this will work?” Hutriel, his expression a mask of doubt, shifted his gaze from Gabriel to peer over the platform railing at the waves below.
Not really. I give it a 50/50 chance.
“Absolutely,” Gabriel said. “I’m confident.”
Hutriel turned back to him, his wrecked black-and-crimson armor creaking. “I don’t trust Cyberis demons.”
“I don’t trustanydemon. But Cyan is our best hope.”
“Yo, angels.” Cyan glared between them as she placed herself on the boat dock near Gabriel. “I can hear you. So, tell me again why you can’t do this by yourself?”
Her sarcasm flew right over Hutriel’s head. “We can. But we aren’t Sea Celestials, so our powers don’t extend very far underwater. And your magical abilities can compensate.”
Gabriel frowned. “Whydidn’tthe Thrones send a Sea Celestial for this?”
“Because the only angels who preside over water are the Principalities,” Hutriel said. “They might have sided with the Thrones in their bid for power, but the taint of Satan’s rebellion remains. They can’t be trusted in a matter such as this.”
Their powers were also weak compared to Gabriel’s—and even Hutriel’s. But it still would have been wise to send one. The Thrones were idiots.
“Exactly,” Cyan said. “See, you need me. So, if you can’t be nice, at least stop talking about me like I’m something you scraped off the bottom of your shoe.” She glanced at Stryke, who stood, tense as a rod, on the platform a few yards away. When she turned back to Gabriel, she gave him a decisive nod. “So, how do we do this?”
He liked this demon. He didn’t trust her, but he liked her. Hutriel, meanwhile, was probably plotting to kill her after her usefulness ended. He’d probably want to kill all of them.
“I’ll encase us in a bubble of air. We’ll be able to speak, but try not to touch the sides or they’ll leak.”
“Okay.” White-knuckling the flashlight she’d brought, she blew out a long breath. “Let’s do this.”
He came up behind her and gripped her shoulders. Once the bubble surrounded them like a clear eggshell, he launched them up and away from the platform before lowering them into the water.
An instant, muffled silence surrounded them. Cyan’s flashlight provided enough light to guide them to the drill casing, and he began a rapid descent.
“Will that provide light all the way down?” he asked.
“As long as the batteries hold out.” She angled the flashlight down a little. “Taran said some of the beasts use a kind of electric pulse as a weapon, and they sometimes short out batteries. Why? Can’t you make light?”
“I can,” he said. “But angelic glow attracts demons. Damned inconvenient.”
“I’ll say,” she muttered, glancing at her wrist comms’ depth sensor. “Seventy meters. We’re getting close.”
Gabriel couldn’t feel the pressure increasing on the surface of the bubble around them as they descended, but he somehow felt more confined. He’d hated tight spaces ever since he got trapped in a cave a few thousand years ago, and this was growing more and more uncomfortable. The sounds he was picking up with his angelic hearing—distorted, muffled groans and shrieks—didn’t help his comfort factor.