Page 4 of Camael
She threw spells at demons trying to reach them while his Angels of Retribution were turning the place into a demon slaughterhouse deluxe. Jo and Az owned the high ground. Their flaming swords left trails of blue fire through the air and demon blood splattered across walls.
Camael's weapon caught a demon right in the throat. Its head went one way, and its body went another. Both dissolved into black ichor that smoked when it hit the ground. Two more rushed him and got split from sternum to skull for their trouble. Their death screams hit notes that'd make a soprano jealous.
Mal and Zach had their own party going by the door. Their tag-team style throwdown had demons literally losing their limbs. Mal's blade took the first one apart at the joints while Zach's follow-through turned another into demon confetti. When a particularly huge bastard tried to rush them, they double-teamed his ass. One went high, one went low. Suddenly there were two smoking halves of demon decorating the floor.
Rami and Remi were working their way through the shadows like death's personal choreographer. Three demons thought they had them cornered. Camael jumped into the fight. It was the last mistake they'd ever make. His blade sang through the air. The first strike took out knee caps. The second opened a throat. And the third? Camael turned it into hell's favorite jigsaw puzzle.
Black blood painted the walls like the world's most satanic Jackson Pollock. The smell of burning demon flesh violated at least six EPA regulations. Camael wanted to shield Amelia from this side of their nature. The raw violence that made the Angels of Retribution Heaven's most feared fighting force.
But his witch was helping and had zero fear. She was one hundred percent ‘bring it on’. Power danced around her fingers like she was eager to continue scorching demon ass. Because that was the thing about Amelia. She wasn't some delicate flower needing shelter from the storm. She was the damn storm.
When she caught him staring, she arched an eyebrow. "Taking notes?"
His laugh probably scared the remaining demons more than the slaughter. Because that right there? That's why she was perfect for him. The female could stare into the abyss and ask it if it wanted coffee.
Cassiel wiped his brow as his seer marks glowed with power. "The metaphysical currents surge with both chaos and potential. Our actions here will ripple through the celestial tapestry, shaping destinies yet untold."
"What the hell nonsense is he spouting now?" Samil demanded as he wiped demon ichor off his blade. "That doesn't even make sense."
"Post-battle prophetic bullshit," Zachariel translated, grinning. "You know how he gets."
Malachi stepped forward. He was all business. "We need to cleanse this place. The dark sigils will keep gathering power for Crocell and Lucifer if we don't."
Ramiel's sharp intake of breath drew everyone's attention. "Holy shit. What if this isn't the only one? Crocell could have these power collection points all over the city."
The implications hit hard. These houses weren't justhideouts - they were batteries. They were storing corrupt energy for whatever endgame Crocell and Lucifer had planned.
Amelia shuddered against Camael's side. "Something in here was trying to twist my power and make it serve them instead of nature."
That was all Camael needed to hear. He pressed his Sword of Light to the nearest wall, letting the divine fire start to spread. Amelia's hand on his arm stopped him. "Let me help." Her Latin incantation wove through his celestial flames. Her enchantment amplified them and directed them to consume not just the structure but the dark magic infesting it.
"The celestial fires cleanse and renew," Malachi observed with satisfaction when they reached the lawn. "Their darkness doesn't stand a chance."
Camael kept Amelia close as they watched the building burn. Her warmth against his side felt more right than anything had in centuries. "We'd better get out of here before the human authorities show up."
His Angels of Retribution vanished first. They were headed back to their new headquarters. Camael looked down at Amelia. His gaze met eyes that held power and secrets. There was also something that made his ancient heart skip beats.
Without a word, he transported them back to the mansion in Marigny. The war was just beginning. Lucifer was still out there. Crocell was playing power games. And the balance between realms hung by a thread. Standing there with Amelia at his side and his warriors at his back, Camael knew one thing for certain. His life would never be the same.
CHAPTER 2
The magic hit Amelia like a freight train that was loaded with darkness and bad intentions. She jerked upright in the soft bed. Her tank top clung to her sweat-slicked skin as power crackled through the air. The digital clock on her nightstand read 3:33 AM. It was the witching hour's sweet spot. She should have known this shit couldn't wait until a decent time. That wasn’t how evil worked.
"Well, fuck." The curse slipped out as another wave of wrongness washed over her magical senses. This wasn't your garden variety demon activity. This was something else. Something bigger.
Throwing back the covers, Amelia padded to the window of her room in the Angels of Retribution mansion. After the attack at her place, Camael had insisted she move in temporarily. Right. Like anything involving that male was temporary.
The New Orleans night spread out before her. It was a tapestry of lights and shadows that usually sang with magical energy. But tonight? The song had gone discordant. Almostas if someone had taken a baseball bat to the cosmic symphony.
The powers she’d inherited from a long line of witches who made the Salem crew look like amateurs picked up every wrong note. The usual demonic signatures that plagued the city were there, yeah. But underneath them was something other. Something that made her magical core shiver.
"You feel it, too." The deep voice traveled down her spine, making her shiver.
She managed not to jump at Camael's voice behind her. The archangel moved like a damn cat when he wanted to, all lethal grace and controlled power. She turned to find him watching her with those ice-blue eyes. They seemed to see straight through her bullshit.
"Yeah." No point lying to an angel who could probably taste deception in the air. "This is different. Bigger."
He crossed the room to join her at the window. Holy mother of magic, did the male fill up space. Six-foot-four of just divine warrior wrapped in black sleeping pants and nothing else. His chest looked like it was carved from celestial marble. It caught the moonlight in ways that should be illegal. Focus, witch.
