Page 48 of Camael
"The fight is done," Rami reported as he gestured to the Rowan sisters. "They’ve got the survivors contained. But their grace is seriously fucked up."
"We can cleanse them," Amelia said as she made her way to his side. Her eyes widened at the sight of his wound. "Shit, you're injured?—"
"It'll heal." Camael pulled her close despite the pain. He needed her anchoring presence. "Focus on the fledglings. How many can we save?"
"About half of them." Pema's voice was tight with controlled fury. "The others... the corruption had already gone too deep. I’m afraid there’s nothing left to save."
Camael shook his head. “We aren’t giving up on them just yet. We need to take out Jeremiel before we make that determination." His wings spread wide as he faced his gathered forces. He had to ignore the pain in his side. "There’ll be no more reacting. No more playing defense. We find the bastard, and we end this. Today."
CHAPTER 18
Dawn painted New Orleans in shades of blood and gold as Amelia helped the Rowan sisters tend to the rescued fledglings. St. Louis Cathedral's ancient stones still smoked from battle damage. There were deep gouges carved into century-old masonry. Tainted angel blood and celestial steel were hell on architecture. The scent of decaying blood was an unholy mix that made her magical core recoil. She was torn between helping secure the young angels and getting things back where they were before Jeremiel happened. Thankfully, the Dark Warriors were working on repairs while also securing the perimeter.
Amelia’s muscles ached from fighting and channeling so much power. She wasn't used to either, and tremors were running through her hands as she worked. The Key at her throat pulsed, and its surface was still warm against her skin. As much as she wanted to crash, there was no time to rest. Not with so many injured angels depending on them. And one evil archangel to hunt down.
"This one's grace is barely holding together," Pema reported as she worked on a young angel whose wings hadgone gray with corruption. The oldest Rowan sister's hands glowed from the spell she was using to try to force Jeremiel’s virus out of the victims. It wasn’t going so well for the eldest Rowan sister, either. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she fought to stabilize the fledgling's essence. "The damage runs deep. He managed to get further in rewriting their DNA than I would have thought, given the short timeframe.”
Amelia’s brow furrowed as she processed everything they were learning. “It feels like the bastard was experimenting on their fundamental nature. I bet he’s been at this for a long time and was able to perfect his plans. That’s why he made a move when he did.”
"They all show signs of systematic torture," Isis added from where she was examining another survivor. Her eyes blazed with fury as she traced sigils carved into trembling wings. "Look at these marks. The bastard was carving spells directly into their bodies. I’m not familiar with angelic runes.”
“They're perversions of ancient Enochian," Camael interjected. Amelia felt him coming up behind them.
“That’s not at all surprising,” Amelia muttered as she looked around.
Young angels lay scattered across marble floors. Their violated grace flickered like dying stars. Some had wings caught between light and shadow. Their corrupted feathers were shedding darkness with each trembling movement. Upon closer inspection, almost all of them had profane sigils carved into their flesh.
"This is worse than Prague." Jo's wings rustled with barely contained fury as she paced around them while they worked. "At least there we knew how to stop the problem."
"Prague was demons," Az said as he ran a hand over a fledgling's head. "This? This is family turning on family. That makes it a special kind of fucked up."
Little Sariel made Amelia's heart clench. The fledgling's condition had worsened since they'd brought her down from the battle upstairs. She was a few decades old. An infant by celestial standards but older than Amelia herself. That kind of time-fuckery made her head hurt.
She knelt beside the angel, choking back rage as she examined those gossamer wings. Shadow veins spread through them like cancer, corrupting grace that should've blazed pure and bright. Worse were those haunted eyes. Fuck. No being should carry that kind of pain, let alone a child.
"How are you holding up, sweetie?" Gentle. Keep it gentle, Amelia told herself, despite the fury burning in her chest.
Sariel's wings drew tight against her back as she trembled. "It hurts. He said... said the pain would make us stronger. Better. That we were chosen."
"He lied. You always had as much power as you needed. You’re still growing into it." Amelia let her hybrid power flow. Light and shadow twined together to ease the little one's suffering. "You're safe now. No one will touch you again. I promise."
"Can you fix us?" Another fledgling crawled closer. His grace flickered dangerously low. "Make us normal again?"
"We're going to try," Amelia promised, though her heart ached. Some wounds went soul-deep. She turned to Suvi and lowered her voice. “We need to move them somewhere until Jace can heal them. They can’t stay here.” It was taking too much energy to keep the humans away from the area, and the healer was working his way through the injured as fast as possible.
"We need somewhere secure," Suvi agreed. The witch was still sporting her Louboutins, but her designer clothes were stained with gore. Her usual perfectly styled hair was a mess. "I’m not sure we should risk the mansion after what that bastard did."
"We can take them to Les Auger," Isis suggested. "It has ancient wards that we continually update and a solid foundation. Plus, Izzy's crew is itching to throw down with any demonic bastards who come sniffing."
"That’s a good idea, assuming we can get them there." Pema's voice was tight with concern. "Some of these little ones aren't stable enough for transport."
Blackness leaked from the wound in Camael’s side. Each drop made her want to punch Jeremiel in the throat. Her archangel was a stubborn male. He refused to stop and have Jace heal him. He was too focused on hunting his fallen brother.
"Ayil, Araton, and Abraxos lost the trail again." His voice was gravel rough, and his fury was barely contained. "Bastard's masking his signature. Every time they get close, the trail goes cold."
"You need healing. Now." She reached for his wound. He caught her wrist in a gentle grip.
"There's no time for-"
