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Noa could feel the kinetic energy bouncing among the Fallen. Her mind drifted back to Priscilla. It used to be how they both felt before a kill. Priscilla would live for moments this. She would thrive here, among people with the same murderous preferences as hers.
Maria came out of the office. “The van is ready.” Her chin was tilted up, but Noa could tell she was nervous for them. Her eyes kept drifting back to Raphael. Maria would be staying at the manor. She was an integral part of the Fallen’s life, but her place wasn’t in the attacks. She was smart and sharp-minded. Her talents lay in the academic realm—the planning, the day-to-day scheduling of their lives.
Raphael walked toward Maria and took her into his embrace. “We’ll be back soon, little rose.”
“I know you will,” she whispered, betraying the nerves that were clearly shaking her to the bone. Raphael slung his arm around her neck and faced the Coven and Fallen. His mouth drifted to her ear, no doubt assuring her of his safety.
Dinah broke from the group as silence fell. Gabriel moved beside her. The Fallen’s leader’s face showed no emotion. Dinah took a deep breath. “You know what to do,” she said. “We stick together until it’s safe to get the children out. From what we know of these meetings, they’ll have children present—‘sinners’ there to ritually break.”
Gabriel nodded. “We also gather as much of their literature as we can. Anything we can find—focus on altars, pulpits, those type of places.” Gabriel pointed his thumb at Dinah. “From what we’ve researched, these meetings are localized—only Brethren from the district will be present. Hopefully, with our training, we should be able to take them.”
“I’ve got my flame thrower,” Bara said, a smirk stretching on his red lips. “I think we’ll be okay.”
“And we all know that when it comes to the Brethren, we can never take anything as gospel,” Gabriel replied. “We can’t be arrogant about our skills. We know from our sisters here that they are highly trained too. Worse,” he said solemnly. “They are brainwashed and will do anything to defend their cause.”
“We go in. We get the kids out. And …” Dinah said.
“We then tear the cunts apart.” Uriel pointed at his brothers, then at Noa.
A clanging noise sounded to Noa’s left. Michael had pulled a piece of string with several vials attached from his pocket. The sound had been his intricately carved metal claw rings tapping on the glass. The tips were as sharp as any blade—they could easily sink into arteries. Michael licked his lips, his tongue running over teeth that he’d had shaven into sharp fangs. Michael must have felt her watching, as his eyes snapped up to hers.
Out of all the brothers, Michael was the most difficult for Noa to read. His expression was always blank, as if he wasn’t present in the real world. But she suspected Michael saw everything, tracked every movement anyone made. That made him one of the most unnerving opponents. He could never be successfully studied. An enemy would never be able to predict his next move.
“Let’s roll out,” Dinah said. Taking Noa’s hand, Diel led them from the manor into the waiting van. It was blacked out, its engine silent. Even when the Fallen and the Coven had piled into the back, there was room left over. If everything went to plan tonight, they would be bringing back the Brethren’s sacrificial children with them.
Noa gave Maria a nod as she closed the van doors behind them. Maria’s worried gaze ran over them all, stalling a fraction too long on Raphael. Then they were on the move.
Noa checked the knives in her belt. Bara, true to his word, had a flame thrower strapped to his back. They were loaded with an array of weapons—knives, guns with silencers, chains, bladed knuckledusters, and of course, Michael’s devastatingly brutal claws over his leather gloves.
“We stay as a unit as practiced,” Dinah said. “Listen for my commands. From the ledger we know there should be no more than fifty here tonight, and that’s being generous.”
Noa stared down at Diel’s hand wrapped in her own. His gaze was on the floor of the van. The cords in his neck were taut, and Noa didn’t have to be a psychic to know what was running through his head. His severe head tics and heavy blinks told her that he was thinking of Finn Nolan, the little boy he used to be. He was thinking of Cara, the sister he didn’t know the location of. Noa’s stomach sank. They didn’t even know if she was alive.
Noa squeezed Diel’s hand. He looked right at her. She expected to see rage and wrath blaring in his eyes. But the look of sheer sadness was almost her undoing. In the days since the regression, he had grown more and more forlorn, as if the reality of what he went through, what the Brethren took from him, was wrapping around his heart, barbed claws sinking in deep and refusing to let go.
