Page 28 of Camael
CHAPTER 9
The sun hadn't quite cleared the horizon when Camael felt the first pulse hit his supernatural radar. The mansion's war room was crowded as his Angels of Retribution gathered around maps of the city. Coffee cups littered every surface while they tracked demonic movements that were starting to look like a coordinated assault rather than their usual random chaos.
"This isn't their usual clusterfuck," Rami observed as Izzy marked another incursion point on the map. His fingers traced the locations. "They're setting up a tactical grid. Lucifer has these bastards actually using a strategy."
"Since when do these hellspawn bastards understand strategy?" Malachi demanded from his position by the window. His wings twitched with barely contained energy. "Far as I know, demons operate on pure fucking chaos. Attack first, think never. That's their motto."
"Since Lucifer decided to play chess instead of checkers," Az cut in. His normally jovial expression was replaced by the kind of focus that made demon lords nervous. "The Prince ofLies is running this shit show personally. And trust me, that sonofabitch didn't spend millennia frozen in Hell's favorite ice cube tray playing solitaire. He's been planning this since before most of us learned to fly."
Camael nodded and changed the discussion before it became a bitch session. He had no patience to listen to any whining. "Look at these formation patterns. They're setting up kill boxes," he observed.
Before anyone could respond, power slammed through the mansion's wards like a supernatural battering ram. The magical sensors Amelia and the Rowan sisters had cast over their setup lit up brighter than a supernova in an empty void. Multiple attack points flared to life across the city map like someone had thrown blood on the tactical display.
"Son of a bitch." The curse ripped from Camael's throat as understanding hit him hard. His ice-blue eyes narrowed on the tactical display as pieces clicked into place with brutal clarity. "The Prince of Lies is running a divide and conquer play."
That's exactly what this was. A carefully orchestrated assault designed to stretch one of Heaven's most elite fighting forces thinner than cellophane. Lucifer knew Camael would have to split his warriors between attack sites. It was fucking textbook military strategy. The kind you learned commanding celestial armies, not running demon hordes.
Amelia chose that moment to burst through the double doors, taking his breath away and distracting him. The Twilight Key blazed at her throat. It threw off enough power to make the chandelier crystals sing. Magic crackled around her hands in a display that would've made Heaven's generals take notes. She moved to the tactical display with the kind of lethal grace that did things to his concentration.
"They're making a move." Those green eyes of hers sweptthe map like she was memorizing enemy positions. She let out a low whistle. "And this shit's coordinated."
"Yeah." Camael's wings manifested as fury leaked through his careful control. "These bastards are hitting seven sites simultaneously. At this point, I wouldn't be surprised if they’re running special ops tactics that would fit in Michael's playbook." His jaw clenched hard enough to crack granite.
Amelia cocked her head to the side. "Is this Lucifer? Or has someone been studying Heaven's battle plans?"
“Lucifer knows Michael’s plays like the back of his hand. And he’s had a lot of time to brood and think about things,” Camael replied at the same time the triplets materialized in the doorway like they'd been summoned by the threat of violence.
Their red wings filled the space with deadly grace. Without a word, they moved to join the rest in the war room. Their ancient eyes missed nothing as they analyzed the threat matrix. Araton tapped a spot on the map. "The Warehouse District is crawling with hostiles," he reported. "They're using the abandoned buildings as staging areas. My brothers and I counted at least three hundred of the uglies setting up shop."
“They’ve also fixated on an Arcane bookstore in the Quarter,” Abraxos relayed.
"That's not the worst of it," Ayil added. "These bastards are organized. They're moving with military precision."
"Incoming from St. Louis Cathedral." Jo's curse interrupted the conversation as her fingers flew across tactical displays. "And this ain't your standard demonic fuckery. We're getting readings that are making our most sophisticated tracking spells short-circuit."
"Perfect." Zach's voice dripped enough sarcasm to drown a demon lord. His blade sang through the air as he tested itsedge. "Guess the good old days of chasing soul-suckers down Bourbon are officially over."
They couldn’t let this get any more out of control while he looked for a way to keep the troops together. Innocents would die. "Araton, take your brothers and lock down the Warehouse District," Camael instructed as he got down to business. “Those tunnels beneath the buildings are a ready-made demon highway straight into our backyard. Jo, Az - establish overwatch by the river in the Quarter. The rest of us will coordinate with the Dark Warriors to cover the rest. Move like you mean it."
"The Cathedral?" Amelia's power crackled around her hands as she shrugged into her warded leather jacket. It was covered in enough protective sigils to give Hell's R&D department nightmares.
"That's yours." He told her. He worried for her safety, but the commander in him knew she was their best shot. "Take a team. If we lose that foundation, the whole city's spiritual infrastructure comes down like a house of cards."
"I’d like Cassiel with me." She checked her magical arsenal with practiced efficiency. "His visions might give us an edge before shit goes sideways."
"Done. Take Remi for muscle." His ice-blue eyes swept their gathered forces. "This is an all-out offensive, people. These bastards aren't here to window shop."
The Angels of Retribution kitted themselves out in record time. Black armor shot through with Heaven's power replaced jeans and t-shirts. The air crackled with barely contained violence as they prepared for war. Camael grabbed Amelia’s hand and led the way through the French doors. They’d cleared the patio furniture to give them a launch site.
"Keep the property damage to a minimum this time," Rami called after the triplets as they launched skyward.Their red wings cut through the darkness like bloody comets. "I'm tired of fixing ‘ventilation holes’. The Preservation Society is going to notice one of these days."
"Like you can talk," Abraxos fired back before they disappeared into the gathering storm. Their synchronized assault would turn anything in their path into an oil slick.
The AORs deployed across New Orleans like divine vengeance with a plan. Camael tracked their movements through the bonds he had with each of them as he made his way across town. His warriors carved paths through streets older than some countries. He trusted they were cleaning up as they went. They didn’t have time to go back and ensure they left nothing for humans to find.
The Dark Warriors had split up to fortify key positions. Camael caught sight of Aison's massive wolf guarding Café du Monde's strategic corner. Slate materialized between attack waves across Jackson Square. His vampire speed turned him into deadly precision as he eliminated threats faster than human eyes could track.
Camael landed on Royal Street. He didn’t have time to get his bearings when the first assault hit like a tactical nuke. Class Five demons - the kind that didn’t think for themselves - emerged from the alleys. Taking them out should be easy.
