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Delilah and Xavier both stood while a seemingly oblivious Hattie kept her nose buried in her book.
Delilah gently nudged the old woman. “Hey. Alarm. Aeons. Danger.”
Hattie snapped her paperback closed, muttering about “goddamn bookblockers,” and finally rose from her chair.
Her gaze on the backyard, Delilah pulled her hair back into a ponytail. “The guards and lycans are fast hurrying out of here.”
Of course they were. Everyone was needed on the surface during battles unless, for one reason or another, they couldn’t fight or had been assigned another duty.
A brisk, hurried knock came at the front door. Wynter crossed the living room and opened the door to find a heavily breathing Demetria.
The oracle put a hand to her chest. “Thank God you’re not on the surface yet.” She scrambled into the cottage, clutching her hands together. “There’s something you need to know.”
Wynter frowned. “About what? Did you have another vision?” She tensed as an otherworldly breeze scuttled around her ankles, carrying a warning.
“Not a vision,” replied Demetria. “More of a secret.”
The air behind the oracle rippled as if a curtain was being pulled aside, and there stood Saul, a smile splitting his lips. “Surprise,” he sang, kicking the front door shut.
Hell.
*
From the rooftop of the manor, Cain glanced down as yet more people filed out of the iron gates below. Wynter wasn’t among them. She should have left the city by now. He had to assume that she’d beat him to it and was now, as pre-arranged, positioned inside one of the plaza’s stores with her coven.
During the previous battle, she’d been part of the Ancients’ first line of defense. Cain had agreed to it because he’d liked the thought of her being directly in his line of sight. But he wasn’t so keen on Abel having such a perfect view of her, given that the Aeon would laser in on her for sure. Cain would rather that the asshole’s focus was on him, and Wynter would rather that Cain wasn’t so distracted worrying about her. They’d therefore agreed that she’d situate herself elsewhere.
Battle-readiness beating in his blood, Cain cricked his neck. Five of the other Ancients had joined him, but they were waiting on Dantalion. The manor’s roof was the obvious and most strategic place for them to gather during battles, since it was the highest building and situated at the center of the town.
Cain cast his brother a quick look. Seth hadn’t spoken much, and his expression was unnaturally blank. Cain supposed it was one thing for Seth to goad Abel into declaring war on them, it was another to have to accept that the result of his goading would be that a brother he’d once loved would die here today.
Seth was the type of person to whom it mattered if someone was of his blood. Cain had never been given a reason to truly value that, so he wasn’t finding this moment difficult whatsoever. Really, a final confrontation between Abel and Cain had been a long time coming.
Finally appearing on the roof, Dantalion glanced around the cliffs that bordered the town. “Abel and his troops aren’t here yet?”
“No, but they’re on their way,” said Cain. “And things are not playing out as they did in Demetria’s vision. According to the information that the scouts passed on to Maxim, the Aeons and troops aren’t heading from the west.”
Frowning, Dantalion crossed to Cain and the other Ancients. “They’re not? Then from where?”
“They’re coming at us from every angle. Their intent seems to be to surround the town.”
Dantalion’s lips thinned. “Then it looks like we’ll be putting plan C into effect. Have you made the residents aware of that?”
“Yes.” To be specific, Cain had had one of the dragon shifters fly low around the town, drawing the occasional “C” with fire. “Everyone knows what they should be doing and where they need to be.”
Many residents were dressed in black and positioned on roofs like snipers—some armed, some merely intent on attacking with either power or magick. Other townspeople were on the ground, either indoors or in full view.
Clusters of animals—including wolves, leopards, coyotes, and bears—lingered here and there. Some were shifters, some were lycans, some were were-beasts, and some were shapechangers. All were lethal and would fight to the bitter end.
“Do we know who’s leading the troops?” asked Dantalion.
“Only Abel,” Cain told him. “There’s no sign of Adam or Saul.” Cain had thought that the latter Aeon would join Abel in leading.
“I suppose it would have been too much to hope for that we might get to kill them all in one clean swoop,” said Azazel.
Cain turned to his still silent brother. “You going to be all right?”
Seth met his gaze. “If you mean will I be able to kill Abel and still sleep at night, yes. You’re my brother. He is just—as he seems to enjoy reminding us—our jailor.”
