Page 212 of Nightshade

It was him. It was him!

A crazed chuckle slipped past my lips in my disbelief. “I … I … I don’t know. He dragged Remy somewhere.” It was then I noticed Remy’s screams had ceased.

“We don’t have much time. We need to lure him back to Nightshade, so that I can properly kill him.”

He’s really here!

Even if he didn’t look like Jericho, his mannerisms told me it was him. I mentally forced myself to absorb his words that bounced alongside the chaos in my head. “Why can’t you do it now?”

“In this body, I can be mortally wounded.” Once all of my binds were loosened, he lifted me up off the table.

“Mortally wounded?”

“It was the only way I could cross over without being discovered. If I don’t return, I remain mortal. And I will never be capable of defeating Drystan, even at his weakest.”

As he led me toward the door, I yanked him to me, but paused on seeing the foreign, blood-stained scar-face again. The urge to kiss him deflated like a balloon. Instead, I kissed his cheek. “Hi,” I said in a shaky voice.

“This is your taking again?”

“Yeah. Bad timing, I know. I’m just … freaking out here.”

“I’d say so.” He yanked me close and peered out the door into the hallway. “Sorry about that, by the way.” He spoke low, as he glanced back at me. “The degenerate cad who almost bashed your skull.”

“You’re the angel who sent him?” I asked in a whisper, not wanting to alert Drystan to our escape.

“Yeah. I’d forgotten about him, up until I learned that I needed a host body in order to cross planes. He was a murdering pedophile I let go, but I put my mark on him a while back, so he was fairly easy to summon.” He glanced over his shoulder at me and led me out into the dark hallway. “You see what happens when I’m merciful?”

“I’m beginning to like your ruthless nature, actually. So, where do we have to go to return? And don’t I need a nightshade flower, or something?”

“No. Once we cross the plane, this body will dissolve and mine will be restored. I’ll once again have my wings, and I can shield you. But we have to get to the highest point in the church.”

“The highest point? Why?”

“Crossing planes isn’t exactly a walk in the park.”

The sound of growling brought us to a stop, and Jericho halted midstride. He tipped his head, peering into an adjacent room, and my nails dug into his skin as I clutched his arm, trembling. He flipped on a light, exposing a massive pit in the center of the room. The stench on the air reeked of rot and decay, and when the two of us looked down, I could see the pit extended into an unfathomable darkness, where hundreds of the alatum climbed over each other, clawing at the walls for us.

Dragging me behind him, Jericho slipped back out of the room and a voice from behind stopped us in our tracks.

“Clever, Brother. Disguised, so the Sentinels don’t sense your presence.” Both of us turned to find Drystan standing halfway down the corridor, his morbid wings outstretched behind him. “What do you think of my army, Jericho? Impressive, isn’t it?”

“What the hell did you do?” Jericho asked, his voice tinged in disgust.

“What I had to do after my wings were cut away. Granted, they’re not near as pretty as yours, but they’ll do, don’t you think?” At his back, stood about half a dozen men, dressed in black, leather military vests that carried the Pentacrux sigil, their garb clearly distinguishing them from the acolytes. Each of them held various weapons--some with daggers, some holding swords and mallets.

All of which were capable of mortally wounding Jericho.

“I believe you’ve stolen something that belongs to me.” Drystan’s gaze shifted to me and back.

“I will not let you have her,” Jericho gritted. “You, or the Sentinels.”

His lips stretched to a grin. “They will arrive soon. And I’m certain they’ll take pleasure in your punishment. If I don’t kill you first.”

“Killing me won’t bring your wings back.”

Drystan’s dark chuckle echoed down the hallway. “No. It won’t. It’ll just feel really, really good.” He shot toward us, and Jericho spun around on his heel. The two of us pushed through a door to a stairwell, and Jericho urged me ahead of him, as we raced up one flight of stairs after the other.

Ears thumping with the rush of blood, I didn’t hear the footsteps approaching, until the first clash of metal echoed in the stairwell. I turned to see Jericho swing his flail down on the skull of a Pentacrux soldier and, after dislodging the metal, kicked him over the bannister, where he fell to the darkness below. A second one lurched toward us, followed by a third. Jericho fought them both in a clash of steel that ended in the soldiers’ grisly demise. A fourth rounded the stairwell and managed a slice to Jericho’s flank. He let out a growl of pain, the sound of which sent a flare of panic through me, and swung his flail at the more inexperienced soldier, lobbing his head clean off. Jericho picked up the fallen soldier’s sword, holding both weapons at the ready. A fifth advanced toward us, but quickly changed direction, heading back down the stairs.