Battle With Fire by K.F. Breene
Twenty-Three
Cahal saton a stone bench in the park near the French Quarter in New Orleans. Shadows encircled him, shrouding him from view as a couple ambled by. Deep night waited around them, not masking the sounds from the cars and city in full swing.
Michael had requested a meeting. It was a week after the battle, and still the angel hung around.
The flutter of wings above brought back memories. A stone floor. Constant pain. Darkness all around. A groggy mind spent from torture.
Cahal had no idea how the angels had found him, locked down in the bowels of the Underworld and tortured by the one-time heir. He’d expected to die. Had been praying for it, actually. He hadn’t seen another end to the situation, given he would not be broken.
Lucifer had blamed him for his son’s ruin. Had thought he’d tried to kill Julius.
Cahal could see why, even at the time. The heir had been mentally weak, corrupted by power. Cahal had tried to talk him around, to stabilize him, but his efforts had only seemed to hasten the heir’s downfall. Logic could not be spoken to a mind already bent and twisted. Julius had attacked him, and Cahal had lashed out to defend himself. He was stronger and faster. If it weren’t for the other demons that had gotten in the way, he might’ve killed the heir in self-defense. As it was, he’d been thrown into the dungeon.
His attacker had become his torturer.
Lucifer, at his core, was a good father. He’d treated his various female companions well over his many long years of existence. There was decency in him; Cahal would never say otherwise.
There was also ruthless violence, of course. Rage, spurred on by pain.
He’d blamed Cahal, maybe to ease the blow of his son sliding into ruin, and Cahal had accepted it. He’d tried to ease the man’s pain. At the time, he still hoped he’d one day have children of his own. He had decided he’d want someone to make it easier if he should ever feel the torment of witnessing his child’s gradual demise.
And maybe it was that understanding, that sense of forgiveness, that had touched the heavens. That had brought the angels.
There had been two. Women, both, and as lovely as anything he’d ever looked upon. Pure wholesomeness and light—or that was what he’d thought at the time. His mind had been fevered and in turmoil, his death rattle not far away.
Their touch was like a whisper in a breeze, soft and nurturing. The healing light had flowed through him, filling up all his empty places and mending the broken ends. His body had felt like new.
His mind had turned foggy then. He didn’t totally recall how long it had taken for him to be released. He knew Lucifer had done it, though. Disgusted. Frustrated. He’d sent Cahal away and desired never to see him again.
Joke was on him, it seemed. But this time, things had worked out as they should have. Cahal had done his part to keep Reagan whole. Her influence, in turn, had made the Underworld stronger and would continue to do so. He was eternally grateful for that—and for the thanks she had given. It had mended a sore spot he’d carried all these long years, no longer certain he’d done the right thing back in the day. Wondering if maybe Lucifer was right, and he was somehow to blame for the former heir’s failures. Now, he could finally rest easy.
Michael dropped down in front of Cahal, no regard for whether he might be seen. Roger wouldn’t be very impressed by that.
Power thrummed from the angel, and a soft glow enveloped his body.
“Cahal Druer, the druid,” Michael said.
“Your grace.” Cahal stood and bowed.
Michael motioned for Cahal to sit back down before joining him.
“I must apologize,” Michael said after a short silence. “Those who gifted you with our magic did not realize they would make it impossible for you to find your one true mate. We ought to have checked in with you. We have left you to a trying fate, one you have borne with decorum.”
“It’s nothing, your grace.”
“You are so quick to forgive, even now. It does you credit.”
Cahal felt a rush within him. His senses momentarily dulled as the angelic magic was stripped away. Before he could miss it, a stronger rush of power filled him up, surging warmth to his limbs. The touch of godly magic he had possessed had been strengthened. His heart sank. It seemed he was destined to wander the earth alone forever.
“Do not despair,” Michael said softly. “I have altered the gift. You should be able to meet your true mate now, assuming she walks the worlds at this moment. I cannot see the timing, but you have the ability to form an eternal bond with her, should you meet her.”
A wave of relief made Cahal sigh. “Thank you, your grace. It is too much that you should take such an interest.”
“Nonsense. It was our error. You have suffered. Tell me, is there anything else I can do for you? Name it.”
Cahal considered it for a moment, but the angel had already informed him that he could not help him find a mate. Instead, he figured he could request the angel’s assistance for someone else. He’d pay it forward in the hope the universe would one day find him worthy as well.
