Page 4 of Destined for Eternity
Bartol’s feet itched to get out the door. “Where are the nerou?”
“A mile north of here in a clearing in the woods.”
Bartol grunted. “Thank you.”
He exited the building and flashed to the location, seeing it in his mind’s eye before arriving there. It was clear to him now that he knew where to “look.” All fifty students gathered in a circle around twin nephilim standing at the center. While the two men’s physical features were the same, they had their differences. One kept his blond hair short and usually dressed formally while the other let his hair grow to his shoulders and always wore jeans and t-shirts. Their bearings were different as well, matching their different personalities, but each had golden skin and eyes, muscular builds, and arrogant visages. The one with short hair was Lucas—who Eli had helped a couple of years back—and the other was his brother, Micah.
Working his way through the nerou, Bartol broke through the crowd and found a hunched figure kneeling on the ground with glowing red eyes. It was at Lucas’ feet with a silver chain connected between its neck and wrists. This was a demon from the middle ranks of Hell, based on the intensity of malevolence emanating off of him. How had they gotten him here?
“Today we are going to find out if it’s possible for you all to banish a demon with your abilities,” Lucas announced to the nerou.
Bartol frowned. He hadn’t heard anything about this idea, and normally they kept him apprised of the various training activities so he could work it around his schedule with Tormod.
Lucas answered his unspoken question, “Melena sensed him walking around downtown Fairbanks a few hours ago.”
“Here?” So close to home? That was arrogant, considering it was a supernatural haven with powerful individuals living in the area. Even Hell’s minions had to be aware of that and wary of running into them.
Lucas’ visage turned grim. “I’m afraid so.”
Bartol had heard a report from the archangel Remiel that they hadn’t banished or killed all the demons a few months ago in Europe as they’d hoped, but he hadn’t known any of the stragglers had made it into America yet, much less a remote area like Alaska. This did not bode well. He had a sudden need to flash to Fairbanks and protect his pregnant mate.
“I must go,” Bartol said, nodding at Tormod where he stood at the outer edges of the crowd. The young man would understand if he missed his lesson for the day. The woman Bartol loved could be in danger, and he needed to check on her.
“Stay.” This came from Micah. “Melena is already sweeping the city, and she’s sent Patrick to keep an eye on your mate.”
Patrick was another sensor, but he was mortal and lacked experience in fighting.
“I can look out for my mate myself,” Bartol said, clenching his fists.
Micah spoke in a calming tone, “You’re needed here. If the nerou can’t banish the demon, you’ll have to take care of him. We knew you’d be along shortly or we would have requested your presence sooner.”
Most nephilim couldn’t do much more than fight the denizens of Hell. Bartol was an exception to the rule because he’d inherited his archangel father’s abilities, who’d been made for the purpose of killing demons long ago when there was a war between Heaven and Hell—before a treaty came into place.
“Have your mate take care of it,” Bartol said. Melena was a sensor, and just a small amount of her blood administered to the demon could send him back to where he came from. That was one of her race’s gifts, and one they hoped might have passed to the nerou since they all had sensor blood.
“She is busy.”
Bartol was losing patience. “Get Emily, Patrick, or anyone else.”
He really didn’t care who.
“It would take them too long to get here.” Because sensors were immune to magic, they couldn’t be flashed to other destinations quickly. Their current location was almost an hour from Fairbanks.
“Your mate is safe,” Micah said, the more diplomatic of the twins despite appearing like a punk rocker. He did actually play in a band, so the look fit.
Bartol used his flashing vision to check on his mate and saw nothing amiss. She was staring at something—perhaps the television based on the angle—with a disturbed expression on her face, but she appeared healthy and whole. The scene faded, the magic power only able to hold a few seconds.
He took a deep breath, telling himself he couldn’t rush to his mate every time there was a hint of danger. She’d take offense, and he’d never hear the end of it. “This better not take long.”
Lucas nodded, then turned his gaze to a nerou at the front of the circle. He was a stout fellow with short, black hair and sky-blue eyes. Bartol had seen him a few times and not once had the man smiled. There was something very serious and disciplined about his personality.
“Ivan, you will be the one to do this.” Lucas held out a dagger. “Cut your palm and feed your blood to the demon.”
While the nerou wielded the blade, Micah took the demon by its shaggy hair and lifted it to its feet. The minion from Hell had possessed the body of a lean man in his mid-twenties. There was no fear in its red gaze, only fury and the promise of retribution. They’d gagged him so that he couldn’t do more than throw muffled curses, and the chains kept him from flailing too much.
Lucas waited until Ivan had filled his palm with blood before pulling the rag from the demon’s mouth. The creature spit and threw out such vile expletives that several nerou blushed. Bartol had quite a range of sexual experiences, but he was certain the ones described were not anatomically possible for a man, woman, or beast.
“Silence!” Lucas boxed him in the ear.
