Page 62 of Sacrifice

What was Lucien up to? He, Michaels, had followed the girl from the museum out of curiosity. The police detective persona he wore like a cloak had rubbed off on him over the years, and he’d learned that sometimes just putting the leg work in garnered results. This had been one of those times.

He sank to sit on his haunches. Up on the roof of his church, he was less encumbered by earthly distractions. Out here, in the open air, his thoughts could expand to explore the mystery.

Eve Areli, 26, gift shop worker, elevated to exhibition organizer by Lucien Knight. In appearance, she was a nobody. He cast his mind back to the night Lucien had plucked her from the river.

Lucien had been AWOL, missing from the job he’d been assigned. Michaels had tracked him to his London apartment to discover him with the girl.

Lucien had hissed when he’d awoken to Michaels standing at the base of his bed.

“Where is the dybbuk?” Michaels had asked.

Lucien rolled from beneath the sheets to stand naked and unabashed before him. “Mallory is dead. That’s good enough.”

“No.” Michaels fixed him with a stare. “It is a job half done.”

“I got distracted.” He ran a hand down his own chest and licked his lips. “Suicides belong to the underworld. She was mine for the taking. So…” An insolent smile flickered on his lips.

The girl on the bed lay completely still except for the gentle rise and fall of her chest. She was not dead.

Michael paused in his recollection of the incident to picture her as clearly as he could. There had been nothing outstanding about her then. He did not remember any sign of power. Now that he came to think about it, he realized there had been no aura at all. That should have alerted him. Every human had an aura of some kind. Weak, potentially, but always there.

Lucien strode out of the bedroom and into the lounge to pour himself a scotch, and Michaels followed. He’d allowed himself to be led away from her, and he realized now that it had been a distraction.

Lucien knocked back his drink and offered one to Michaels, who shook his head with a growl.

“This is your penance. Your life for theirs. It isn’t optional. Do as you were commanded.” Michaels felt his hackles rising. The reaver was so infuriating.

Lucien shrugged and poured himself another glass. “Well, if we’re going to be trapped here for eternity, you might as well have a little amusement. Humans do have their uses, after all.”

Michaels sucked in a long breath and tried to hold his temper. “We are sentinels of the Celestial Council. I am a Protector of the Meek and Warden of the Damned. You are–”

Lucien pinched his thumb and fingers together in an insulting representation of Michaels talking, and Michaels’ blood rose to a boil. “Give it a rest,” Lucien said. “Have some fun, why don’t you?” He knocked back his drink.

“She is an innocent. She’s not to be harmed.”

“I didn’thurther.” A sly grin flickered on Lucien’s lips.

“No!” Michaels knew he shouldn’t let Lucien get to him. He was his keeper, the authority in their relationship, yet fury burned in his gut. The reaver had abused the license he’d been granted to perform his duties and had taken a girl. He’d exploited a tortured soul. “Adiuro te daemonium,” Michaels spat the words like a curse, and Lucien stumbled backwards as if he’d been slapped.

A bright, white light erupted from Lucien’s chest, and as it faded, it left scorched welts of ancient runes on his skin. The runes crackled and hissed as though a searing iron had branded him

Lucien clutched at them and gasped for air. “Another binding! For fuck’s sake, what is this, the dark ages? She’s just a fucking mortal.Carpe diem!”

“She belongs to the light.”

Lucien laughed. “She has free will,Michaelus. She chose the path that led me to her. Even you don’t have any right–”

Chains erupted from the runes and embedded themselves into the brickwork, pinning Lucien flat against it. He struggled and swore as Michaels strolled past him and into the bedroom

“Overkill, Angel. If you wanted a go, you just should have asked.”

Michaels flicked a shockwave of energy at Lucien, who shouted and then began to laugh. “Release me if you want a fight. Let’s get to it. Come on, Sentinel. You know you wouldn’t stand a chance if I got the prisoner wards off.”

“You might want to start with the chains,” said Michaels dismissively. Hate wasn’t a heavenly virtue, but Lucien made it so difficult. Always fighting against the system. Always battling his punishment. Always pushing the boundaries. The prisoner wards kept Lucien in servitude, and Michaels couldn’t have removed them even if he’d wanted to. They were the work of the council to whom they both reported to.

Save the girl and get away from him.

The girl was still sleeping. If she had attempted to take her own life, she’d failed to achieve it. Michaels couldn’t see any signs of injury on her whatsoever. Gently, he slipped his hands beneath her body and lifted her into his arms.

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