Page 78 of Vanish Into Light

Beck snapped his tail, flung the one it held, and got to his feet, dragging Raphael up with him by the now-torn shirt-front. Raphael was big-eyed, his face smudged, and smoking in the place where Beck had reached inside it, just like he’d done with Shubert.

The conduits who could picked themselves up, but didn’t approach him; hung back, circling, wary.

In her mind, Raphael’s voice sounded shaky, rattled; weakened from whatever Beck had done to him.The First Rift wasn’t an accident, he said, quickly, hurrying, trying to get the words out as Beck smacked a conduit away like it was nothing and bared his fangs, wings curved like a shield around his back.It was a reaction. Lucifer left hell. He abandoned it, so he could be born a mortal man. The Rift hit when he was only a boy.

Beck bit Raphael’s throat, and the angel screamed again, a high, animal sound of distress.

H-h-he destroyed the balance. He started – started the war over, and he didn’t even know it. Not – not until he went back to hell…and then, stupid girl, you sent a saint to drag him out again.

Beck’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, and swallowed. Raphael’s scream tapered off, and then died in a gurgling gasp. His eyes threatened to close, only burning slits, now. His hands convulsed uselessly at his sides.

“No,” Rose murmured.

Beck drew back, licked blood from his lips, and turned to them, his eyes gold, his fangs sharp, hair caught in his horns, caped with wings. “Ah,” he said, voice thick – thick with blood. “He told you.”

Before she could respond – and she couldn’t have, even if she’d wanted to – he turned away, and reached into Raphael’s pants pocket. He came out with a dagger, small and sheathed, plain and not fancy. Without looking, he tossed it–

And Morgan caught it. There was another blinding flash of light, and when it died back, she stood holding the hilt of a sword nearly as long as she was tall. She held it as if it weighed nothing, and when she stepped off the edge of the table, she landed lightly, easily.

Rose watched as if through a dream, Lance’s arms still tight around her, his chest heaving against her back as he breathed in the same ragged, disbelieving way that she did. The whole world narrowed down to the tableau before them.

Blood ran down Raphael’s neck; his lips twitched soundlessly. Beck held him up without effort, attention on Morgan as she approached, sword in her hands.

She said, “Give him to me. He’s my brother to send back.”

Beck grinned, wild and huge, though it didn’t touch his eyes. “He’s mine, too, or have you forgotten that as well?”

“Give him to me,” Morgan repeated – she sounded almost patient – and shifted the sword to one hand so she could reach out with the other.

He has to end it, Raphael said in Rose’s head, voice even weaker.He has to be the one to put it all to rights.

With a disgusted face, Beck hauled Raphael up and thrust him toward Morgan.

Who laid a hand on Raphael’s shoulder – and then ran her sword straight through his heart.

The scream this time was nothing ever made by a human. It was a shriek. Rose closed her eyes against the flare of light; her face was buffeted by a sudden blast of wind that smelled like clean rain, and new steel. She ducked her head away from it; pressed her face into Lance’s bicep, and rode it out, his strength holding her grounded, just as it had five years ago, in this same mansion.

Finally, it stopped.

She lifted her head, blinking against the spots that danced before her vision, the light so bright it had branded her eyes even though they were closed.

Raphael lay on the floor, spotless – but lifeless, too. His eyes stared up at the ceiling: normal, human. The other conduits had fallen as well, angel and demon both.

Morgan held her sword propped on her shoulder, the blade bloody. She breathed harshly, audibly, and swayed – but didn’t fall.

Beck stood with wings mantled, breathing quietly through an open, bloodied mouth.

Rose swallowed and said, “Beck.”

His gaze lifted up through a screen of long lashes, and tangled hair. One corner of his mouth lifted in a humorless smirk. “Forty-three years ago, the devil decided he wanted a do-over. He put himself inside a woman’s womb, became a twin. A way to try again. I guess you could say it was a spectacular failure.”

He turned, stepped over a body, and walked out of the room.

SEVENTEEN

Lance couldn’t decide if he was idealistic, or just an idiot because he retained the ability, after all that he’d seen, to be shocked.

Rose finally wrenched free, and he let her go this time. There was no danger, now, at least not any danger they could defend themselves against. She would go after Beck, and maybe he was the most dangerous being in the whole city, in the world, but that didn’t mean that they loved him less.

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