Page 8 of Camael
She drove that sword straight into the heart of their ritual circle. The impact sent shockwaves through the cemetery strong enough to knock over tombs, but that was just the opening act. Her two favorite flavors of power spiraled out from where the blade pierced those ancient symbols. Instead of destroying them, she wove that power through the priests'life forces like she was rewriting their DNA. Their energy was redirected to reinforce the very barriers they'd tried to break.
The head priest figured it out a second too late. "No-!"
But that train had already left the station, baby. Those seven sets of eyes went wide as his connection to the Oldest Ones snapped. His true form began to stretch and warp as it was pulled toward the barrier like water down a cosmic drain. The air rippled as his ancient essence got sucked into the walls between worlds. His stolen meat suit crumpling empty to the ground. One by one, the other priests followed suit. Their screams echoed across dimensions as they became part of the very thing they'd tried to destroy.
The cemetery went dead silent. "Well," Amelia managed. She felt like she'd run a couple dozen marathons. "That was fun." Her knees decided that staying vertical was overrated. But before she could face-plant into the ritual circle, Camael was there.
"You have an interesting definition of fun," he rumbled. Damn if his voice didn't do things to her even when she was about to pass out.
The Angels of Retribution gathered around, looking like they'd just survived a supernatural blender. Their clothes were torn. They had various cuts and bruises. And enough demon goo between them to fill a swimming pool. But they’d won this round.
Cassiel's eyes were doing that glowy thing again as he studied her. "The stars sing of change. The bloodline awakens fully at last."
"Does he ever just say 'good job'?" The words slipped out before she could filter them.
The scattered laughter that followed helped break the apocalyptic tension. Camael's expression stayed serious asthose ice-blue eyes locked onto hers. "We need to talk about what just happened. About what you are."
"Yeah." She let herself lean into him because staying upright was becoming a serious challenge. "But can we do it after coffee? Saving reality works up a hell of a thirst."
His lips twitched in what might have been a smile. "Coffee first. Then we figure out why beings older than time itself are interested in your family tree."
"And why they want me dead," she added helpfully. If they answered that, they might stand a chance of stopping whatever had been set into motion.
CHAPTER 3
Dawn painted New Orleans in shades of rose and gold, but Camael wasn't feeling the romance. They'd spent hours after the cemetery throwdown sweeping the city for any lingering traces of ancient evil. Now, they were gathered in their mansion's war room with coffee and beignets. His men looked like they'd gone ten rounds with a cosmic meat grinder.
Camael leaned against the fireplace as his ice-blue eyes fixed on Amelia. She'd claimed the room's most comfortable armchair and was nursing what had to be her fifth cup of coffee. The dark circles under her eyes testified to the night's toll. Power still crackled around her like static electricity.
"So," Rami broke the tension-thick silence. "Are we gonna talk about how you went all cosmic locksmith on those ancient barriers?"
"Great question." Amelia's laugh held an edge of hysteria. "Got another? Maybe one I can actually answer?"
"Start with what you saw," Camael suggested. His deep voice carried through the room like thunder. He was stillupset at how close she’d come to being killed. "In Cassiel's vision."
The witch's grip tightened on her coffee mug. "It was confusing and overwhelming. I swear I watched the universe being born in IMAX. There were beings of pure light and pure shadow. They weren't fighting. They were creating something together."
"Creating what?" Jo perched on the arm of a nearby sofa. Her wings were half-spread with curiosity.
"Everything, I think." Amelia's voice dropped to just above a whisper. "And there was someone there. Someone like me. They were weaving light and shadow together like it was the most natural thing in the world."
Cassiel's eyes glowed as he stepped forward. "The First Weaver.”
Camael recalled the stories about how the veils came to be. “When reality was young, and the barriers between realms were being forged, there were those who could work with both energies. They helped create the walls between worlds."
"But that's impossible," Malachi protested from his position by the window. "Light and shadow are opposites. They can't coexist."
"Tell that to twilight," Az drawled. He was cleaning demon goo off his favorite blade with methodical precision. "Or dawn. Or dusk. Nature's full of places where light and shadow dance."
Silence fell as they absorbed that. Camael pushed off from the fireplace and moved closer to Amelia. "Can you tell us what you did with your power in the cemetery? Did you redo those barriers?"
Amelia hesitated for only a moment before setting down her coffee. Power gathered around her hands. Not the pure witch-fire they were used to seeing, but something morecomplex. She slowed the process so they could see as light and shadow twisted together like lovers in an eternal dance.
"Holy shit," Rami breathed. "That's not supposed to be possible."
"Story of my life lately." Amelia let the power fade. "I didn’t know I could do it before I saw that vision. But it feels right. Something in my blood recognizes it."
"Your bloodline." Camael's voice had dropped to that place that made windows rattle. "It's older than any of us realized. Those priests called you 'The Key’."
