No, it wouldn’t be one. “You had to have known we wouldn’t just agree, so what do you have planned?” Sethios already knew, as did Ezekiel, but neither party could admit that without ruining the charade.
“Hmm, it’s not a matter of planning, really,” Ezekiel mused. “More the element of surprise.”
The pistol appeared in his hand as if by magic and fired directly into Sethios’s chest before he could utter a word—just the way Gabriel said it would happen. What he failed to mention was the burning sensation.
“Fu—” He couldn’t finish the word as he fell to his knees, the pain excruciating. Caro screamed beside him and cut off in a gurgle as another bullet presumably hit her before she could mist.
Flames erupted from Sethios’s skin, but he couldn’t feel them beneath the pressure flooding his veins.
The fuck is in that gun?
“Incendiary bullets,” Ezekiel explained casually. “Jonathan’s researchers developed them for the Sentinels at the CRF. I don’t think the science is quite right, though, because it’s not meant to be obvious. And, well, this is pretty damn obvious.”
Asshole, Sethios thought at him as his body convulsed. He could feel his skin melting and mending at remarkable speeds. Being of Seraphim blood, he couldn’t die. And his body worked damn hard to keep him breathing, despite whatever technology Ezekiel had shot into his system.
His blood was on fire. Literally. And if the agony traveling through the line from Caro was anything to go by, hers was too.
Shit.
That was not part of the plan. Neither was Ezekiel’s maniacal laugh or the spike of shock traveling through the bond from Astasiya.
Through the flames engulfing him, he met a pair of terrified eyes peering at him in the distance. Fuck. She was not meant to see this. She was supposed to be hiding. No matter what was their promise. She’d broken it. Because of the pain echoing through the bond.
They’d failed her. Or would, anyway, if Osiris appeared now.
Run! he commanded with the remains of his energy. Hide!
Her expression contorted in agony as he forced her little legs to move, and then Gabriel appeared right behind her in his ethereal form. His gaze met Sethios’s for a split second—just long enough to convey a reassuring nod—and the pair of them were gone.
Sethios relaxed despite his current predicament, content that his child was safe. Gabriel would guard her.
“Well,” a chilling voice said above the chaos riddling Sethios’s form. “I see you’ve finally come through, Ezekiel.”
“Yes, Sire,” Ezekiel replied, sounding quite pleased with himself. “I followed up on a lead that proved fortuitous.”
“What lead?”
“A phone call between some shopkeeper and his wife. He claimed someone compelled him—over ice cream, of all things.” Ezekiel chuckled as Sethios’s heart stopped. His friend purposely left out the detail about it being a little girl who used persuasion, but if Osiris asked for clarification, this could all be for naught.
Caro must have felt the same because panic slipped through the bond even as he pushed back at her to remain calm. Already the fire engulfing them was dying, whatever chemical reaction stirred in his blood seemingly disappearing. Only five minutes at most had passed, perhaps even less time than that.
“I thought the purpose of these bullets was to disintegrate the body,” Ezekiel added, cleverly distracting from the topic at hand. “I had rather looked forward to watching the Seraphim regenerate from ash.”
Osiris chuckled. “Be sure to inform Jonathan that he still has work to do.”
“Consider it done.” Ezekiel crouched and used the pistol against Sethios’s head to force his gaze upward. “Ah, there you are. Already healing, I see. Shall I shoot him again, Sire?”
“No, the toy is no longer needed. I can take it from here.”
“Pity.” Ezekiel stood and pocketed the gun.
“Pick up the Seraphim first. I have a few things I need from her.”
Agony shot through the bond as Ezekiel followed Osiris’s orders, and Sethios fought his protective instincts. It helped that he couldn’t move yet, his blood still regenerating in his veins. Once the process ended, he’d have full range of his skills in hand.
“Beautiful,” Osiris murmured, stepping forward. “Tell me, young one, what is your name?”
“Caro,” she rasped, pain echoing from her like a beacon. The bastard had forced her to speak when her body hadn’t finished rejuvenating yet.
