Page 5 of Camael
"Tell me what you're sensing," he said. His deep voice rumbled through her bones.
Amelia closed her eyes, and she reached out with her magical awareness. "It's like... imagine the universe is sheet music. There’s all the normal stuff. Humans, animals, and even regular demons. They're playing their parts. But something's introducing new notes. Wrong ones. These shouldn't exist in this reality."
"Lucifer?" Camael asked.
"No." She was certain about that. "This is older. It’s also a different flavor of wrong."
Camael cursed in what might have been Enochian. "Show me."
Amelia hesitated for only a second before placing her hand on his chest. Skin-to-skin contact amplified magical connections. She needed all the juice she could get for this. His skin burned hot under her palm. It was like touching a star that had decided to take human form.
"Sweet Lord in Heaven." The words slipped out as her magical senses merged with his celestial ones. The resulting awareness was like IMAX compared to a flip book.
The wrongness was everywhere. It was threading through reality like corrupt veins in marble. But it was concentrated in... "The cemetery," they said in unison.
Camael's hand covered hers where it still rested on his chest. "We need to-"
A scream split the night. It wasn't a human scream. This was the sound of reality itself protesting. Amelia doubled over as magical feedback slammed through her system. Images flashed behind her eyes. Ancient beings were stirred from eternal sleep. Cosmic forces were twisted against their nature. And there was darkness. So much darkness.
Strong arms caught her before she hit the floor. "What did you see?" Camael demanded, concern roughening his voice.
"This is not about collecting power for their use," she gasped out. "They're trying to wake something up. Something old. I’m talking pre-dating angels old."
The temperature in the room dropped ten degrees as Camael's power leaked out. "That's not possible. The Oldest Ones were bound before Creation itself."
"Tell that to whatever's trying to pick their cosmic locks." Amelia straightened. She had to force her legs to remain steady. "And here's the kicker. They need a key. A very specific kind of key."
Understanding dawned in those ancient eyes. "A witch with both celestial and infernal bloodlines in her heritage. One who can channel both light and shadow."
Well, shit. "That's why they took me before," Amelia realized as the pieces clicked into horrible place. "They weren't trying to corrupt my power. They were testing it. Seeing if I could handle both energies."
"And now they know you can." Camael's wings manifested. They were massive things of divine power spreading across the wall behind him. "We need to move. Now."
The door burst open as Rami charged in, battle-ready. "Boss, we got problems. Something's happening at-"
"St. Louis Cemetery," Camael finished. "Rally the troops. Full battle gear."
"Already on it." Rami's gaze flicked to where Camael's hand still gripped Amelia's arm. He wisely kept his mouth shut. "We’ll be ready to go in five minutes."
Once they were alone again, Camael fixed her with a look that could've melted steel. "You're staying here."
Oh, hell no. "Like fuck I am." Amelia channeled power into her hands. She let witch-fire dance between her fingers. "They're using my heritage for this mess. That makes it my fight."
"They're trying to wake up beings that pre-date Creation," he growled. "Beings that could unmake everything you know."
"Exactly. And I'm the only one who can sense exactly what they're doing with the magical currents." She stepped closer. She had to crane her neck to meet his gaze. "You need me on this, Archangel. Deal with it."
For a long moment, they engaged in a staring contest so intense the temperature in the room dropped twenty degrees. The chandelier crystals started tinkling like wind chimes in a hurricane. Divine power met witch attitude in aclash that would have had the demons in Hell taking cover. Finally, Camael cursed long enough to make a sailor blush. "Fine. But you stay close."
And wasn't that just perfect? Heaven's most badass archangel, getting schooled by five-foot-seven full of curves and magical attitude. "Wouldn't dream of being anywhere else," she drawled. She chose to ignore how true that statement actually was.
Five minutes later, Amelia found herself in the middle of what looked like a celestial SWAT team briefing. The Angels of Retribution had transformed the mansion's dining room into a war room. It was complete with maps and weapons that glowed.
Jo tossed Amelia a leather jacket. "Here. It's warded. It won't stop a direct hit, but it’s better than nothing."
"Thanks." Amelia shrugged it on. She appreciated the protection and the style. The Angels of Retribution looked fine as hell when heading into battle.
Cassiel stood in a corner. His seer marks glowed like neon as he stared at nothing. "The veils between worlds grow thin. Ancient eyes open in eternal darkness."
