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Fifteen
Samuel
I turnedtoward the scream of pain just in time to see an axe sink into the chest of a demon. A demon who’d had his claws in Thomas’s chest.
Fuck.
The demons had come to us. I wasn’t sure if they’d somehow found out about our visit to their hideout near the New Hampshire border or if this was completely unrelated, but they’d been gunning for a fight.
They were all low-ranking demons, highly conspicuous with their reddish skin and pointy horns. What they were doing in a random alley in the middle of Downtown Boston, I had no idea. Unless it wasn’t a random alley, because it happened to be the alley where the back door to Youngblood was located.
Did they somehow know about the two angels and the bunch of human demon hunters currently living here?
I didn’t really give a fuck what they thought or knew. They were all about to be dead. This fight had already taken way longer than it should have. It was like these demons were professional angel killers. Was that a thing? I’d have to ask Nathaniel at some point. As an angel born into the sixth order, the warrior race of angels, he knew more about demon politics than I did. I just had to find a way to phrase the question so he wouldn’t get suspicious.
I swung out, sending my spiked club into another demon and turning him into nothing but red smoke.
One glance in Thomas’s direction told me it was bad. “Jor, heal him. I’ll cover you.”
There were still five demons, and soon there were going to be zero. No one got to hurt my family and survive. Because Thomas was my family, far more so than the idiots who had spawned me.
Joriel hesitated. “Sam—”
“Do it,” I snarled through gritted teeth. “I’ve got this.” For a second I thought he was going to argue, but he just nodded before kneeling at Thomas’s side.
I turned my attention to the remaining demons. They were good, but I was better and more motivated.
Still, it took a good five minutes before the last demon was down. I turned, taking in the situation. Thomas was lying motionless on the ground, eyes closed. His shirt was torn open down the middle, and Joriel was leaning over him with his hands on Thomas’s bare chest. Only there was something wrong with Joriel’s hands. It looked like he was wearing gloves. I still didn’t understand his horrendous experiment with the gloves, but I did know his hands had to be bare for him to use his angelic healing power.
I crossed the space between us and knelt on Thomas’s other side. The wounds were slowly closing under Joriel’s touch, and there was a pair of tan latex gloves on the ground beside them. I stared at Joriel’s hands. They were pure black, like a plain tattoo that covered every inch of skin up to where it disappeared into the sleeve of his shirt.
What the fuck was wrong with him?
Joriel didn’t look at me, didn’t take his eyes off Thomas’s wounds. His brown hair hung around his face as he bent over, shielding some of his expression from my view. What I could see though was pure determination.
A bolt of genuine fear shot through me. I’d seen Joriel work before. Usually he was relaxed, like the work was easy and straightforward. A brush of his fingers and cuts closed, infections cleared up, bones healed. In theory, he could even cure blindness and other things that would normally never have a fix. But tonight he didn’t look the slightest bit relaxed or sure of himself. Were Thomas’s injuries that bad? Or did it have to do with his black hands?
The gashes vanished under Joriel’s touch, and Thomas’s ragged breaths evened out. His eyes were still closed, but he would be fine after some rest. He had to be.
Joriel sat back and let out a relieved breath. “He’s going to be fine.”
My chest loosened as relief crashed over me. “Was that in question?” I asked, shoving down my emotion. It wouldn’t do me any good.
Joriel’s throat bobbed on a swallow. “I wasn’t sure I’d be able to do it.”
“Why not?” I demanded through gritted teeth. “You can bring back a person who’s been dead for hours. He was still breathing.” Joriel was no Jesus Christ, but his healing abilities were pretty miraculous.
“Samuel…”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
His head drooped. “I’m sorry.”
“We need to get Thomas inside.” I pulled a cell phone from Thomas’s jeans pocket. “Bring him to his apartment. I’ll call his boyfriend and meet you in there.”
Joriel nodded, slipping on his gloves before lifting Thomas into his arms.
I scrolled though Thomas’s contacts until I found Shawn’s name. I punched the Call button and listened to it ring. “Pick up, dammit,” I muttered.
