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I coughed, trying to see through the haze of smog. Cold stone cradled my spine. Warmth spilled from the back of my head. Nothing ached, however, so whatever had knocked me out must’ve healed already.
Struggling to my feet, world spinning around me, I gripped the wall for stability. Blinking hard, struggling to see, I walked slowly. Two steps forward, my foot caught, and I nearly hit the ground.
I squinted through the blur of smog, seeing the green pulse of Rafael’s aura.
Still peering into that ethereal realm of existence, at the top of the steps, grunting and growling with each punch, the golden throb of Lux’s soul shined. Before him was a soul the color of blood.
Michael.
I grabbed the railing of the steps to launch myself to them, to rip Michael off and return him to his cell.
An arm wrapped around my neck from behind, hauling me down the stairs. I was not a small man, and my feet were off the ground.
I didn’t have to turn to know who it was.
There was no mistaking the pulse of that soul.
Gabriel.
When cold metal touched my chest, I slammed a foot onto his, crouched, and spun from his grasp. The wee shite had seen me unconscious and hadn’t taken the opportunity to grab my sword from my hip.
Yet, I was the one unfit to fight a war.
I hoisted it before me, clanging it through his. His jutted toward me.
Just as I couldn’t see him, he couldn’t see me. The smog was too dense to make out anything.
But we both could see one another’s souls. It wasn’t as good as overhead lighting, but it gave me enough coverage to see which direction he raised the blade.
I wasn’t sure I needed it either way. Every move he used was one I’d taught him. Every time he went high, or ducked low, even when he lapsed behind me, I knew each move and how to counter it.
What was his goal here? Stab me so he could siphon my soul? Not only was I the one who’d taught him to fight, making this feel like nothing more than a useless spar, but we had the same abilities.
He could control lightning, and so could I. He could lapse, and so could I. He cast a spell that intended to impair my cognition, and I cast one to block it.
What he did not have, however, was my wife’s power over the elements.
With a gust of wind, I shoved him backward. It took longer than I expected before aclunkfollowed, reminding me we were on the landing of a staircase. Hardly visible in the smoke, I saw the glow of his soul a flight below.
Just as a thump banged beside me.
Michael’s red soul, a few feet to my right.
“Stars damned asshole,” Lux grumbled atop the stairs.
“How the fuck did they get out?”
“I’m assuming the Witch who was told to disable their abilities was playing for their team. Looks like Michael got out and rigged this door with a spell to explode when we walked through it,” he said between deep breaths. “We’ll get Stella to do it again.”
I squinted up the stairs, occasional glimpses of him visible as the smoke wafted past.
This wasn’t any of our first time taking a prisoner. There was a protocol for these things. Spell to disable their abilities. Spell around the cell to prevent escape. Spell that prevented abilities from exiting each corridor, by the short chance that the prior two precautions failed. Then an additional barrier spell that couldn’t be crossed by any living object, like the ones the boys had had in place around Hana and Venark’s prison.
Either Lux didn’t vet his guards at all, or every bit of this was planned.
Staring up at him, knowing his hands had been cuffed before his hips, now seeing them dangle freely…
“How’d you do that?” I asked.
