AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Marco, you’re up. You get to sit this out and watch over the realm and all those in it.”
“But, why? Nothing’s going to happen. This is a tight ship,” Marco protested. He hated staying behind, almost as much as Dante. The thought of missing out on a good fight would drive him crazy.
“Because someone has to be here to meet the two members of the Praesidium that have been detected on the outskirts of our realm. Eastern border. One male, one female. So, can the tantrum and put your big boy pants on.” Mrs Briars proceeded to ignore his presence once she’d finished with that little bomb.
“Caine, my boy, my sweet boy.” No one but Mrs Briars ever thought Caine was sweet, or if they did, they never dared to tell him so.
“I have it on impeccable authority that the time is drawing near. Very near. The soul will be reborn. Sooner than you think. He grows ever stronger in the womb. I’m afraid you cannot risk taking this journey when your own is about to begin, again.” Caine’s face turned to stone in an instant, every expression and emotion locked down tight behind layers of hard won control.
Roth knew that expression intimately. Caine had been the one to help him perfect it for himself. Which was why Roth could see behind the mask Caine wore, to the chaos churning away within him. Caine had no choice, even though Roth personally thought Caine should let the soul go. Not that he’d ever tell Caine that. The guy was loyalty and honor personified, all wrapped up with a bow and a tag labeled ‘Duty’.
“Gym,” was all he said as he marched out, muscles tense, as hard as rock.
“Alright, the rest of you need to get your shit together and get your backsides to wherever in the dragon realm Luc went. Time, she’s a-ticking. The longer you take, the more he’s going to fuck shit up.”
Mrs Briars sank through the floor and disappeared. Roth, Athon, Lily, Fynn, Deus, Andy, Malech, and Ares called forth their traditional amour, made by the Almighty’s favorite smith, the ever popular Hephaestus, and ran into the portal Deus had opened in the center of the room, weapons at the ready.
Roth grabbed a hold of Athon’s hand at the last second and drew him close. His nearness calmed his inner demons, and sent a sizzle of lust through his veins. He was definitely getting his male naked upon their return. This better not take too long. As imperative as it was that they find this woman, an out of control Lucifer could truly fuck up their chances of doing so. Not to mention the cleanup would be a bitch.
Chaos met them as they landed on dragon soil, their arrival was not lost on the shifters gathered in the shadows either. Wide eyes, filled with trepidation and anger, watched them, some eager for a misstep and the chance to fight. Dragons were ever eager to draw blood. At least they used to be. Some still were, but the Clan Wars centuries ago had cured most of them of the character flaw. Still, despite the scene before him, most were holding back, a few injured warriors were strewn about. Then Deus spotted them, the children peeking from behind their mother’s legs as they searched for a better view . . . And what a view it was. No one could ever claim Lucifer did things by halves, that was a certainty. For there in the center of the square, crouched over the liquefied remains of the mage, stood the creature of nightmares.
He was still devilishly handsome, just more like the devil than anything else in that moment. His shadows had gathered around him and covered him in the image of biblical evil that he usually found so amusing as a parlor trick. His eyes glowed vivid red and his wings spread wide. The voice, when Deus heard it, sent chills down his spine. Never would Luc allow himself to scare children like this. What the fuck was up with the asshole’s shadows? How were they speaking for him? Scratch that. How the fucking shit balls could they speak at all?
“Where is she?!?” the bellowed malevolence demanded. “Tell me. I no kill all gathered here!”
Luc’s fist pounded down upon the flagstones and the ground shifted beneath their feet. The Dragon Guard of Thisavrós stood at the ready, eyes flashing with the need to shift. Shit! Could this get any more complicated? Oh, yes, well, of course it could.
Instead of an answer, a young woman strode toward Luc. Was she a fucking idiot? Surely she could see the danger he presented? The moment her eyes flashed completely silver, he knew she was a witch. She was trying to look directly into Luc’s psyche, to puzzle out how to handle him. Problem was, she was going to get it wrong. Luc’s brain was an intricate labyrinth of utter complication, it’d taken him centuries of covert prodding to delve in and get even an inkling of an idea as to how to calm him. The tiny little slip of a woman was going to get herself killed if she didn’t stop and back the truck up.
Luc saw her coming and rose up to his full height, even taller with the added shadows. The shadows growled and hissed as they eyed her coldly.
Behind her the clan chieftain stood in his full dragon form, twice as tall as the building behind him, ready to pounce. His midnight-blue form had a regal air, predatory, deadly, and yet the man was fully in charge of the beast. When his guards made to move forward, he held them off. Interesting, Deus’s brows rose, the chief seemed to trust the foolish wench.
He needed to do something. He needed to bring Luc out of wherever he was right now, and back to himself. The Treaty of the Realms clearly stated that the Shadow Hounds had no dominion over dragon souls and all disputes must be handled by, or with the permission of, the Praesidium. Not only was Luc fucking with the treaty, his shadows were probably going to maim that poor woman. Standing next to Luc she looked so tiny. His shadows had built him up and his wings didn’t lessen the contrast in their sizes.
Sword drawn, Deus stepped forward; he felt the others do the same. Always a team, they had each other’s backs.
“Step back away from him, woman!” he ordered. His voice cracked through the air like a whip, the command full of compulsion . . . And yet, she did not stop. Instead, she glared at him quickly before she snapped her gaze back to Luc, laid her palm upon his arm, and appeared to take a single, deep breath.
“Shhh, Scáth-thiarna. It’s time to rein in the rage. To find Decaria, you will need the help of those you now seek to hurt. Big, deep breaths, release your hold.” Damn, it wasn’t working.
He’d actually grown bigger at the mention of her name. Why couldn’t Deca have fallen for a human, or, at the very least, a wolf shifter? A quick tap on the nose and a certain command, and they were putty compared to this one. She’d spoken to the shadows, not the angel. Though they were irrevocably entwined. Scáth-thiarna, Shadow Lord, for that was what he was. The first of his kind, he held dominion over all the rest, if he lost this battle his madness would spread throughout the nest.
From the corner of her eye, she noted the other angels advancing and saw a flash of long black and silver hair falling from under the golden helm of the one who’d spoken up. The strands fell over his broad shoulders as he advanced toward her slowly. She glanced behind him. Yeah, those two were who she really needed to worry about, especially the taller of the two as his hand clenched and unclenched around the hilt of his sword, repeatedly. Guess it was time to bring out the big guns. She leaned further forward, despite Lucifer’s agitated growling and the almost certain chance of evisceration, and whispered softly, so only he could hear.
“Walk with me on the craggy rocks,
In the moonlight before the dawn.
Lie with me on the hillside, where the shepherds tend their flocks,
There to wake within my arms when the sun shines in the morn.
When the seas are filled with angry souls,
And the waves come barrelling over,
I’ll hold thee safe in my embrace
