Wrath of the Fallen by Eve Archer

Chapter Thirty-Five

Dominick

I flew around the remaining scaffolding and around the torn fabric until I was above Notre Dame. Gargoyles continued to peel off from the stone pediment and fling themselves into the gaping hole leading to the interior of the church, flying through the pounding rain like ferocious gray projectiles with fangs and wings.

My eyes caught on one unusually large gargoyle, his wings tucked behind him, as he directed the flight of his minions from a perch high on one of the stone buttresses. His clothes were soaked and his expression intense as he swished one hand like a magician without a wand.

Mastema.

Rami joined me in hovering over the exposed opening of the cathedral, and then Mastema flew over to us. We all lingered for only a moment before making a beeline for the ground and landing on the steps leading to the front portal.

The rain continued to fall overhead, but the stone overhang protected us somewhat. I dragged my hands through my soaking hair and turned to the demon prince. “We thought you’d left us.”

“I did.” Mastema shook himself and water flew off. “As soon as you two left the car, my tracker indicated that Caspiel was on the move away from the cathedral. I didn’t want to lose time in waiting for you and lose the chance to locate him and the woman.”

That made sense, but I eyed him suspiciously nonetheless. “You’re sure you didn’t lead us into a well-laid trap?”

“And then summon my own demonic gargoyles to save your lives?” His gaze went to Rami. “Why would I bargain for the service of Ramiel, and then get him killed? You forget that I am also a businessman. Your deaths do me no good,” he curled his top lip, “and I have no desire to see the angel Gabriel rejoice for any reason.”

His mention of Gabriel made me glance toward the heavy, wooden door, beyond which the archangel was fighting off a swarm of gargoyles that had only minutes ago been lifeless, stone statues guarding the top of Notre Dame. I hadn’t been aware that Mastema had the power to animate stone, but I wasn’t going to question it.

“Did you find them?” Rami asked, water dripping off his hair and down his forehead. “Sara and your incubus?”

“Caspiel?” Mastema angled his head at Rami, a grin teasing the corner of his mouth. “We didn’t get far before the skies opened up. I did speak with him, though. The women are safe.”

“Women?” Rami glanced at me. “There’s more than one now?”

Mastema looked at me and twitched one shoulder up as if to say, what can you do? “Your demi-angel left the safety of my lair and made her way to Sara and Caspiel.”

I peered up at the turbulent clouds, and fear curled icy fingers around my heart. “Ella’s here?”

The demon prince shook his head and water droplets flew off his soaking locks of dark hair. “When I spoke to Caspiel, they were at a hotel not too far from here.”

Rami scowled. “A hotel?”

“The human wished to stay somewhere other than my chateau. Not everyone can handle the demonic energy of the lair.”

If the lair’s demonic power had made me nearly mad with lust, I could only imagine how strongly it had affected Sara. “You didn’t mention the demonic energy of your lair when we arrived.”

“It’s been a long time since I’ve had guests who weren’t demons,” Mastema said, “and even longer since I hosted an actual human who was there of her own free will.”

I didn’t ask him to elaborate on humans he might have held at his lair against their will. One look at the handsome, yet menacing prince of the demons who’d just summoned an army of gargoyles—his ice-blue eyes hard and glittering—told me I didn’t want to know. But it was all a good reminder that we were dealing with a demon with the power to control all the demons on earth, and he should not be underestimated.

A flash of white drew my eyes up to where Gabriel shot up from the opening in the cathedral’s roof. Gargoyles the color of the storm clouds clung to his wings and legs as he twisted in midair then vanished into the gray swirling funnel.

Moments later, the gargoyles started falling from the sky as fast as they’d risen. Their spiky wings flailed as they spiraled down, and Mastema lifted one arm to arrest their descent. With a flick of his fingers, the gargoyles returned to their posts at the top of the cathedral, hunching over and folding their wings before hardening into slick stone.

Nothing I saw should have amazed me anymore, but after millennia dwelling with humans, flashes of the supernatural in the mortal world still gave me pause, and I’d never seen Mastema flex his powers before now.

“What of Gabriel?” Rami asked as we all stared up. “Is he gone? Did he give up?”

I had a feeling the archangel would never truly give up, and the thought filled me with weariness. I did not want to spend the rest of Ella’s life hiding her and running from a demented archangel bent on her destruction. It was no kind of life for her, especially since she only had a fleeting, mortal lifespan.

As if in answer to Rami’s question, a blur of white streaked down from above and landed on the steps in front of us. The archangel Gabriel looked terrible. His wings were bruised and battered, and his bare chest was streaked with grime.

Even though we’d never battled together, Mastema, Rami and I quickly moved into a defensive pattern together. Rami and I stretched our wings on both sides, and Mastema assumed a battle crouch between us, his pointed wings raised up as if he would lift off the ground at any moment.

Another streak of white drew my gaze from Gabriel, as Uriel landed with a thud next to him. His sword was drawn, the iridescent blue flames licking the celestial steel, and his white wings almost glowed against the richness of his own dark skin.

“We have no fight with you,” Gabriel said, his eyes fixed on Mastema.

Mastema flashed him a malicious grin. “I’m afraid you do. These Fallen are under my protection—and one is in service to me.”

Gabriel’s face registered shock, but he shook it off. “You are the prince of demons. Why concern yourself with the matters of angels?”

“You didn’t feel that way when you solicited Mastema to kidnap your own daughter,” I said.

“Semyaza speaks the truth. Your opinion of my place in the celestial order seems to shift.”

“You wish to perish for them?”

Uriel pivoted toward Gabriel at this, extending his sword so that the flames of the blade danced dangerously close to Gabriel’s chest. “No one will perish today, unless you wish to follow Azrael?”

Gabriel stared, openmouthed, at Uriel. “You would slay your own brother for these…” He waved a hand at us, “cursed creatures?”

“We are all God’s creation,” Uriel said. “Your actions have sent the celestial order into chaos, Gabriel. Harmony and truth must be restored in heaven and on Earth. I will fight for that with my life—and my sword.”