Page 6 of Wicked Savior
With a resigned shrug and a negative shake of his head, he fills me in on his latest attempt to find a new body. “Powerful, but ugly. Solandis would never glance twice at the bastard. I don’t understand why it’s so hard to find a dead demon who’s tall, good-looking, magically powerful, a good fighter, and swings a decent size cock. I can find one, maybe two traits on a good day, but none of them comes close to fitting my needs. I’m running out of time. Solandis is set to go to the Light Fae Court with Meri soon. She’s going to need protection from those golden aristocratic pansies.” His translucent image shudders at the thought of Solandis alone with the Fae.
Raising an eyebrow, I remind him, “She’s the Princess of the Light Fae with considerable powers of her own, and she grew up in that environment. I’m sure she’s well versed in the machinations and politics of the court.”
His lips compress, but he dips his chin in a respectful nod of semi-agreement. “She’s my life, my reason for everything. My mate. Ours isn’t a romantic, pretty love. It’s raw and powerful. Fire and ice. A demon and a Fae, an impossibility, and yet the fates decreed us joined. In this world of lost souls and destruction, I need her light to balance the darkness in me. It’s brutal living without her.”
While he agrees with my logic, Solandis is his mate, and he’s almost feral when it comes to her. Having loved once, I use the memories to dredge up some patience.
“I—”
A prickling awareness, unlike any other, invades my body. Time grinds to halt for the briefest of moments, then resumes in a silent roar of protest. My mind sorts through the possibilities, knowing there is only one answer.
This is the third time I’ve felt this sensation over the last two days. Twice I ignored it, but this one was significantly stronger. This death has more power.
The aether beckons, whispering of answers. I resist for a second, but time is of the essence, so I slip into the stream. Images flash by without rhyme or reason. The past, present, and future bound together with silvery strands, with no indication of when or where. Shadows wrap around me like old friends. Forcing myself to relax, I push the wordless request from my mind into their darkness.
Layers of grey nothingness undulate in front of me. The images speed up until they’re nothing but a blur, then stop. One image floats in front of me. The answer to my request.
The scene appears to be an alley from the world above. Brick rises high on each side and in the back. Dumpsters line one wall. Dirt and grime cover every surface. I frown. Everything looks normal except for the body lying dead on the pavement. The image turns in response to my request, but no matter where I look, the body remains pristine. There isn’t a single mark to indicate General Balith’s cause of death. I need more info.
Bracing myself, I cast a new request into the shadows surrounding me. They writhe in excitement, sliding across my body, searching for payment. A hundred cuts. Blood drips. The shadows consume my power.
“Enough,” I boom, closing off their supply. “Show me.”
Images flow backward in time, then stop.
Tall, ethereally beautiful, an angel and warrior all the same—General Balith—strolls down the sidewalk, bright blue eyes focused on the woman in front of him. An aura of menace and danger surround him. A predator stalking his prey, he waits for the best moment to strike.
Tall and lithe, with gorgeous dark red hair, the woman strides quickly down the street in front of him. She nervously glances behind her in an attempt to discern the location of her stalker, but her green eyes skip over him as if he’s invisible. Her pace picks up. She may not know where her stalker is, but she feels his presence.
The entrance to an alley provides him with the perfect opportunity. He strikes, shoving her into the dark interior. White wings snap open until they’re brushing the brick sides of the surrounding buildings, completely cutting off any chance of her escape.
Golden light arcs into the night and fills the alley, blinding and bright.
She raises her arm to shield her eyes against the light.
Gripping his sword, he raises his to strike her down but comes to an abrupt stop at the pinnacle. The perfectly symmetrical face full of arrogant confidence suddenly changes to confusion, then astonishment, before morphing into disbelief.
The hand holding the sword falls limply to his side, and the golden light withdraws. His body folds, like a lifeless puppet, to the ground. Eyes bright with life dull and their glow fades. The once-magnificent warrior met the death he sought to deliver to another.
The aether tugs at me, offering to show me more, paving an enticing path of secrets and visions, but it’s a trap. If you stay too long, the way out closes. With careful shifts, I slip through a gap, extricating myself from the strands of knowledge.
Vargas’ relief is almost tangible when my presence fully returns to the Underworld and my office. He’s unable to tap into the aether and hates the risk I take when I use it.
My body sways.
Vargas curses, his current predicament preventing him from physically helping me.
I raise a hand. “Stop. I’m fine. My power is only temporarily drained. A few minutes in this world will restore me.” Even now, I feel tendrils of power, full of fresh sin and free will, slithering through the halls of my palace making their way to me. My drained reserves fill rapidly.
Normally, I utilize other methods to obtain critical pieces of information, but the event warranted the risk.
“What happened?” Vargas
“An angel died.”
ChapterFour
LUCIFER
