Chapter 38: Bloodhound and Rune - Wings of Lies

Chapter

Thirty-Eight

BLOODHOUND AND RUNE

A DAY AGO

“Sir, Rune lost eyes on them... again.” I stood in front of his desk. The mahogany wood stretched half the length of his chambers, centered with the fireplace. The king faced the fire, only the top of his ice-blonde head exposed above his cushioned chair.

“What do you mean, general?” The room dropped to an uncomfortable temperature. Usually, I didn’t fear him, but tomorrow was the day, and we still didn’t have a location.

After I let the king drain the last of my power to help out the female, we didn’t have enough to connect to either her or the Nephilim again. So, Rune was our last resort. A fickle beast still in training. One we couldn’t wholly trust at her age. Not when so much was riding on this mission.

“Sir, Rune chased off some Hellhounds and lost their trail.”

The temperature plummeted. Fuck.

My skin burned from the frigid air, but I ignored it. I’d been through a lot worse in my three hundred years.

“We have five hours, general. We need to figure out where she is. You’ll only have so much time to retrieve her.”

My concern wasn’t whether I could retrieve her but the matter of our imprisonment. It’s been nine years since the gates shut.

“Sir, the gates⁠—”

The king’s fist slammed into this desk, spreading a thin layer of ice over the dark wood. “They will open.” He removed his hand, standing to walk closer to the fire. “She passed the test. She’s who I’ve been looking for,” he muttered.

What test?

“And they all want her. The Ethereal Military, my damned wife, and whoever the pathetic demon works for.” Ice spread across the floor as he toed the line of his restraint.

“They will open,” I said, keeping the awkwardness from my tone. Comforting someone didn’t come naturally to me, but the ice creeping up my leg pushed me to it. “And if they don’t, I’ll try the portal again.”

“We’ll have more luck with the gates. There is no use getting your wings wet again. The Dreads may demand I appoint a new general if you do.” The ice crusting my pant leg receded. He turned around, drilling me with an icy gaze. “Go, Bloodhound, figure out where she is. I don’t want to see your face again until you do.”

“Yes, Sir.” I left to connect with Rune.

TWO HOURS AGO

I knocked on his door.

“If you’re General Ronen, then enter. If you’re anyone else, leave.” The King’s voice hinted at a slow death. Ice crystallized underneath the crack of the door. We were minutes away from our schedule.

I took a deep breath, gathering myself for this potential shitstorm, and confidently pushed into his office.

Fractured ice covered the wood-polished floor.

“Cutting it close, Bloodhound. Tell me.” He stood from his chair. Leather, in black and red of our kingdom’s colors, embraced the cords of his muscles. He dressed for battle. Yet he wouldn’t be the one going out there. He was as much a prisoner to his kingdom as his wife was.

“Rune is outside an abandoned house at the edge of The Divide.”

“How do you know it’s the edge of The Divide?”

“They’re next to the killing fields.”

His dark gray eyes nearly vanished behind his two thickening white rings. Ever since he sensed her power months ago, his control had been on a relentless rampage.

I knew her name. I knew she was important, so much so that I had been threatened with my life if I didn’t retrieve her. Not that I was worried. He called me Bloodhound for a reason. However, the lack of additional intel irritated me. If only bridging two separate minds allowed me to join the connection. But my powers had limits. Plus, he wasn’t one to share unless it was absolutely necessary.

I squared my shoulders. The next part would prove challenging to convey, and there was no time to waste thawing me if I upset the king. “Marcus is with her. Which means Saraqael may be there too.”

The rings swallowed the rest of his irises. “And?” He knew there was more. We’d been searching for Marcus’s new employer, trying to find Saraqael.

“Rune didn’t lay eyes on the face. But she did see white armor. Your old armor.” I almost said our, but I never received the white, as my position decreed. No, I received black—not that it mattered anymore.

But what I said did.

I luscelered to the doorframe, feeling the change in the air before the ceiling and floor erupted in sharp spears of ice.

“Go stand by the gates, general. Wait until they open and bring them to me. Kill anyone who stands in your way and drag back their rotten souls. And if the gates don’t open,”—the whites of his eyes glowed—“pray that they do.”

The air pulsed, and my ebony wings manifested. I stretched them out, enjoying the relief of having them free.

“Oh, general, if the Nephilim is with them, bring him too. Put him on Rune if you have to.”

“Yes, Sir.” I left just as crashing ice erupted behind me.

FIVE MINUTES AGO

The gates opened. How he knew they would, I didn’t need to know. But they did, and I flew to Rune. Our connection made it easy to find her, even after years of separation. I popped my wings out of existence and crouched beside her in the tall grass. My shadows helped to blend us into the shade of a large oak. The dusk sky also helped.

She pushed her black body into me, craving attention after being away from me for so long. I didn’t have the time. But as I was about to stand, Marcus came out, and two figures luscelered to the house’s front porch. One of them tackled Marcus to the ground.

It was the Nephilim.

The other figure stormed past, leaving them to fight.

My shadows darkened as I drilled my gaze into the back of the cloaked figure. The king ordered me to kill anyone who stood in my way. Fortunately for the Nephilim, the king wanted him back, but the cloaked figure may be the first on my list.

Moments later, the front door slammed open, and an Archangel raced out of the house and into the skies. I eyed him for a second, knowing my king wouldn’t be pleased, but brushing away the thought of chasing after him. His day would come. For now, I was here for the female and Saraqael.

“Stay here, pup. Keep an eye out. I’ll be watching.”

Rune butted her muzzle into my hand, a silent confirmation that she understood but wasn’t happy about it.

I wrapped my shadows around myself, left the Nephilim and Marcus to fight it out, and entered the rickety old house.

Scanning each room, I strategically placed my steps to stay silent. Candy wrappers and chip bags, food only found on Earth, littered the living room. Encroaching upon the kitchen, my lip curled at the wretched smell of rot, blood, and rat piss. The surrounding rooms had the added benefit of peeled paint, glass, and more feces.

This place was a shit-hole. An empty shit-hole.

No one occupied the first floor. I was about to go to the second when a scream pierced the air. Diving deeper into my well, I pulled at the darkness, swathing more layers around myself to stay hidden and luscelered to the scream.

I stopped at the threshold of the basement.

The rancid, rotten blood overwhelmed my senses. What kind of sick bastard would make their basement a butcher shop? But the smell wasn’t what stopped me.

Saraqael lay unconscious on a table next to the female, and from all the blood that covered the female’s table, the butchering already started.

Her breaths stuttered in and out, clearly in a lot of pain, with the queen’s pet hunched over her.

“Sweetheart? Stay here. Stay with me. Please, just hang on a little longer. I’ll take you to a healer first. I promise,” the pet said, not noticing me behind him.

He pulled a knife from her hand, the sound of suctioning blood getting lost in her whimpers.

“Put it in my waistband,” she whispered with no strength.

He listened, tucking the sheathed knife beneath her bloody pants. Afterward, he sheathed his sword, freeing his hands to pick her up. That was a mistake, along with touching her.

I willed a shadowball to coalesce in my palm. It wouldn’t kill him; I’d need his blood for that. But it’d knock him out long enough for me to slit his throat. I wound up and threw it. The female peered at me as I did, like she could pierce through my shadows.

But that wasn’t possible. To her and the pet, I should look like a cloud of black. Only… Her eyes…

They drilled into me. Agony screamed in their star-flecked depths. I didn’t even think. Pulling at the deepest parts of my power, the shadowball darkened as it flew toward the pet’s back with enough force to knock him out for months. For the first time in a century, I allowed my rage to overpower my abilities.

A loss of control, first the king, now me.

“Aspen! Behind you!”

The pet turned, and the female rolled, pushing off the table and diving in front of him. My shadowball sank into her chest.

“No!”

Damn it! I didn’t mean to say that aloud. But fuck!

I hoped she had a high power level, or I’d have to tell the king I knocked the female out for half a year.

She stared at me as my shadows swarmed her body and mind. I couldn’t look away. And my shadows… What were they doing?

They… It almost felt like they were savoring her. Like they found something they liked and weren’t quite ready to shut her down. When they eventually did, it was gentle, like tucking her into a dreamless sleep.

“Lucille!”

Her body went slack in the pet’s arms, and before I knew it, a fireball flashed toward my face.

“What the fuck did you do to her!” he roared.

“It was meant for you, not her. She’s alive.” But I needed him to move out of my way so I could check on her wounds.

He laid her down on the ground, placing his feet in front of her, white knuckling his sword. “Who the fuck are you? Show yourself!” His power erupted in his eyes and transferred to the blade in his hands. The muscles in his legs and arms shook as he held his defensive stance.

This was the renowned Prince of the Mother of Demons?

The color of his power intrigued and confused me. Seraphim flames were almost as rare as my shadows. And on a bonded sword, no less. But those were the only two impressive things about him, especially since he couldn’t be a Seraphim.

“Did you do that to her?” Blood pooled on the table, dripping to the discolored cement. I couldn’t shake off the amount. If he caused this, I knew without a doubt the king would want me to make him beg before I broke his mind. And I didn’t mind that thought at all. My shadows whirled around me, excited for their next fix.

His eyes flashed to a deeper blue. “No.”

“The Archangel?”

“Michael,” he spat as flames heightened on his sword.

Fuck. I should’ve chased him down.

He glared at me and my silence. “Who the hell are you? Are you just going to hide behind your shadows like a coward?”

Oh, the queen’s pet had an attitude. “Don’t bait me, pet.”

“What did you call me?” He lifted his sword in a shaky hand and stepped toward me. I snorted. I needed two openings. One to knock the prince out and slit his throat, and one to retrieve the female.

“A pet. That’s what you are,” I stated. It may be an insult, but it was the truth. There were many stories about the prince back home.

He took another step, flames flickering on his blade, and then fell to both knees, sword clattering to the ground. “Lucille,” he cried, voice breaking.

Again, this was the formidable Prince of the Tenebrous Kingdom?

I walked closer to him, still hidden from view.

“No, no. Please, no,” he repeated, gathering the female in his arms. “Lucille.” He rocked her limp body. “Lucille, stay with me.” He bowed his head into her neck, murmuring into her skin. “Please. Stay with me. Let me give you the moon. You need to live. For your mom.”

The tears in his voice stayed my hand for a moment. The Prince of the Mother of Demons cared for her.

“For me,” he whispered.

“The shadows won’t kill her.” Why was I consoling him? Maybe it was the fact that this supposedly deadly male was reduced to a pile of tears just because I knocked out the female he cared for. My shadows could sense her heartbeat. Although it was slow, she lived.

The pet leaned his face close to her ear, foolishly ignoring my proximity. “It’s fading, Lucille. I can feel it fading. Please fight. Please.”

I tilted my head, staring at the two of them. There was something I was missing. But I didn’t have the time to figure it out. Pulling at my shadows, I formed another ball, throwing it at his back. The pet fell backward, bringing the unconscious female with him. My lip curled in disgust. I reached behind my head for the hilt of one of my short swords, craving to spill his blood when the female convulsed.

First the female, then the pet.

I crouched on the floor, gently rolling her off him. I removed the sheathed knife from her waistband and froze at the sight of the dark blade. Tsal-mawet. The blade used to saw off the king’s wings. The dark blade had been lost for centuries. Where did she find it?

Sliding it between my belt and waist, I scanned the gashes on her arms and legs. They steadily bled, but nothing looked life-threatening. Her healing must’ve helped with that. But why was she convulsing? I placed my fingers on her pulse and jerked back. Her skin was unbearably hot, yet she didn’t sweat.

A shot of alarm that wasn’t my own overpowered my concerns. Rune.

Someone was coming.

I expanded my shadows, covering up the female before I picked up her jerking body. Her heat penetrated the thick fabric of my fighting leathers. I shot a glance at the pet with clenched teeth, then strode for the door. Only to be blocked by the Nephilim.

Huh. He lived.

He panned from the pet to my shadows. “What the hell happened to him, and where is Lucy?” he demanded, emeralds turning to green fire.

“The female is in my arms, Nephilim. Consider your deal complete. He has requested your return.”

His reaching hand paused. Lucky for him. “You work for that male?”

“I’m his general. I’ve come to collect you. We—” The female whimpered in my arms. My shadows swarmed toward her cuts, absorbing her blood. I didn’t command them to; they just did it. But my surprise was short-lived. In our cloud of darkness, red seeped out of her nose, and pain creased her eyes, pink tears squeezing through her closed lids.

“What the hell are you doing to her?” The Nephilim took a step forward. My shadows whipped out in threat while still covering us.

“Nothing.” Yet. As she writhed in my arms in agony, bleeding from her nose, eyes, and limbs, I made a decision. If he ever found out, I’d most likely be a dead male, but if I didn’t… I’d probably still be a dead male.

This was the only way if he wanted her to live.

Pushing the rest of my doubts away, I brought my shadows to my mouth, tasting the blood they absorbed. Straight sunshine and sin tingled my tongue, weakening my knees. I’d never tasted anything like her. The addictive spice that lingered at the back of my throat spoke of power.

What the hell was she? The tangy, warm sunshine flavor I knew, but the rest⁠—

She convulsed harder, taking me out of my thoughts of her blood. Instantly, I dove into her mind, berating myself for getting distracted. I never got distracted.

The moment I entered her mind, I knew two things.

One, they lied to me. And two, she was seconds away from death.

Her mind felt like the heat of a thousand suns. If her body became any hotter, no matter what kind of power she had, she’d die.

I sent a shot of shadows into her brain, using them to nullify some of her pain receptors and bring down her internal temperature, hoping that’d help long enough to get her to a healer.

“Hey! I’m speaking to you, Shadow-boy!” the Nephilim yelled.

“What!” I snapped. We needed to move.

“What are we going to do about the prince and…?” He pointed at Saraqael.

I wished I could taste his blood and tear his mind apart before I ran a blade across his neck, removing one more pet from her arsenal. But the female in my arms was my top priority. The king would want me to save her before killing him.

“He gets to live another day. Lucky him.” I moved, then snapped. “Grab Saraqael.”

“Hey, where are you going? She’s unconscious! What makes you think I can pick her up? Wait!”

I didn’t wait.

My nerves were tickling the fabric of reality near my wings. They itched to pop back into existence. I signaled to Rune, waiting for her bounding black form. She came a minute later, running at a full sprint.

A flash of silver flew by my head. I couldn’t stop the dagger; my hands were full, and my shadows were busy protecting the female in my arms. Not that a little dagger would do much damage to a hound nearly the size of a horse. Rune snapped her head to the side, grabbing the dagger before it hit her.

“That’s your ride,” I growled back at the Nephilim, happy to see he brought up Saraqael. “Don’t hurt my hound, or I’ll let her devour you.”

“You own a Hellhound?” the Nephilim panted, sounding both intrigued and hesitant.

“She’s a Soulhound.” I dropped my shadows and brought forth my wings.

“They’re extinct…” he trailed off, eyeing my wings like he eyed my hound. Then, he caught sight of the female. “Holy shit. Is she going to live?”

“I don’t know,” I said, really hating that answer, feeling a seed of fear. She had to survive. The king needed her. The Nephilim needed her to survive his Ligamen Rune. And now… I needed her, too, which surprised me most of all.

They fucking lied to me.

“Get on the Soulhound. She’ll take you to the gates. We don’t have long before they close. Hold on tight, and don’t you dare let Saraqael fall.”

Rune dropped to the ground, giving the Nephilim permission to climb on. He was tall, so he wouldn’t have to climb much. I grimaced at the way he wiggled and dragged up Saraqael’s body. But at least we got them both, and she would never remember.

Before I took flight, I had one more question. “Did you kill Marcus?”

He met my gaze. “No, he ran away.” The bitterness that laced his words matched the regret in his eyes.

I’d have to hunt him down and kill him later, just like the Archangel. I smiled at the thought.

“Rune, run fast. Stop for nothing. I’ll see you at the gates.” I pushed off the ground, spreading my ebony wings, and raced against time.

The wind battered our faces. Tapping into my dark well, I let my shadows form a small barrier between us and the wind, still allowing me to see ahead.

The female pressed closer into my body, freezing. Initially, I thought it was the wind and the high altitude. But when the pink in her cheeks bled away and blue tinged her lips, I dove back into her mind and put on a burst of speed. My shadows played with her neurons, returning her to a stable temperature. Still, I couldn’t hold it for long, especially when half my shadows acted against my will, deciding to cover each one of her gashes to protect them from the forceful air and soak up her blood like wispy bandages.

The landscape changed, becoming more jagged and white. We were close.

Pushing myself harder, we barreled through the twenty-foot iron gates, Rune right on our tail. The moment they slammed through, I left them and flew to the castle, landing on the balcony of the king’s office.

“Sir!” I yelled, not wanting to kick in his door. But I would.

Fortunately, he was there swinging the curtained glass open.

“You got her,” he whispered.

I held back my burning question about who she was to him. The female didn’t have the time. “Sir, something’s wrong with her.” My shadows covered most of her wounds for now. It’d only distract him, and they hardly bled because of my shadows and her healing.

“What do you mean?” His gaze raked up and down, narrowing on the dark wisps that slid across her skin.

I ignored his displeasure. “She’s been fluctuating in temperature. Burning hot, then frigid. And it’s getting worse.” I wasn’t about to tell him how I knew that. The shadows touching her were as much as he’d accept right now.

He lowered his brows, then thrust out his hand. “Her wrists. Give me her wrists.”

I did, pulling my shadows off her arms but still covering the gashes.

The king’s fingers lightly grabbed her hands, twisting. Her right wrist displayed inactive Binding Runes. I grimaced. Then he twisted her other wrist. Ice crackled against the stone balcony, and my shadows snaked around my palm and pressed into my eyes.

“Put her on my desk. Now.”

I rushed her over as the king threw everything to the ground.

“Release her from your shadows,” he demanded.

That was easier said than done. My shadows enjoyed protecting her before, but now… Now, they didn’t want to leave.

A fucking Reversal Rune.

“General Ronen! Your shadows!” Ice encased my boots, traveling to my knees.

I whipped my head up to the king and pulled at my defiant wisps, pulling harder than I should have to. They swarmed back to me, slamming into my core.

At the site of the female, the king’s pupils vanished into white. “Go to my vault. You know the code. Get my feather.” Icicles grew from the ceiling, and I knew he was using the rest of his control to keep them from erupting from the ground.

I luscelered there, grabbed it, and came back within seconds. The feather was pure white up until the very tip, unlike my ebony feather, which was stolen when they left me for dead. Heavenly feathers with the gift to give runes.

“Hold her down,” he commanded. “Counteracting a Reversal Rune will hurt.”

I placed my hands against her shoulders, and the king held her wrist steady. The moment the feather touched her skin, the female wrenched awake. With my shadows in her system, that shouldn’t be possible, but between her extreme pain and power level, this situation was anything but normal.

She wailed and shoved against my hold, nothing but skin and bones thrashing with little strength.

I avoided her strange eyes and glanced at the king. I understood the fear and rage in his expression, but there was also a calculating look—one that threatened my shadows to come back out and attack the king I swore fealty to. I made sure to keep them locked away. He was saving her life, nothing else.

Her screams died down after he removed the Reversal, and she passed out.

But she lived.

The king called for a cot and a healer. She’d be sleeping near him tonight. I didn’t like that either.

Fuck. This female was already messing with my head.

My question burned through me once more. It wasn’t my place, but I no longer cared after all this.

“Sir, who is she?”

The king sank into his cushy chair, eyeing his work and all the wounds slowly mending themselves on her skin. She’d still need stitches. My shadows surged, eager to seep through my skin and mend her wounds, yet I hesitated, bound by his command. His fear of my shadows was shared by all and with good reason.

He nodded to the female. “Put pressure on her wounds until the healers come, general.”

My shadows burst forth, startling me with their force. They immediately covered every injury, both absorbing her delicious blood and keeping it inside.

The immortal king, perpetually appearing no older than thirty-five, now appeared as though he had aged a thousand years—his actual age catching up with him.

“I believe she’s my offspring, general. My—” he paused, like he was tasting the word. “Daughter.”

I don’t think I had enough curse words in the book for what he just said. “Your daughter?”

“Yes.”

“The test?” I asked, stunned. Now I understood what those words meant.

“She jumped into the Corruptible River and survived.”

Of course. Only the offspring of Hell could survive that river. And Seraphims, but they were too powerful to leave their sanctuary in the clouds.

I stared at the unconscious female in the cot.

The Princess of Hell was my cordistella.

The king could never know.