False Gods (Sins of the Father 2)

“He is perfectly safe, Mr. Albrecht,” Sadriel called out, her voice musical and delighted. “Pray, focus on your own survival. It isn’t Florian that is in grave danger at the moment.”

My lips drew back, my chest filling with animal rage at just the sight of Sadriel. What did she want from me? When last we met, all she said was that she belonged to DEAD, a task force that supervised nephilim all over the world. This wasn’t supervision. This felt every bit like an assassination.

One of the angels blurred out of existence again, just as the Vestments answered my summons. I had a hunch where the bastard was headed. Good thing the arms and armor from upstairs were so light, or my injured arm couldn’t have held them. The sword appeared in my right hand, at about the same instance that the hairs just at the back of my head rippled, moved by the sudden appearance of something large, bulky, and made of meat. I spun in a circle, aiming just above my own eye line, bringing the sword in a glimmering arc to cut through flesh, spine, and throat.

The angel’s eyes were wide when his head toppled from where it was supposed to connect to his neck. It fell to the ground with a horrible, wet squelch, staining the asphalt with liquid and gore that was too similarly crimson to human blood. I steeled my resolve, hardening my muscles as the angel’s headless body crashed to the ground. These things weren’t human. I had to remember that. Any show of pity, any sign of weakness and I was a dead man.

I glared at the second angel, working through the pain to grasp my sword in both hands. Show all your teeth, like an animal. Someone taught me that, once. A vampire, specifically. Show your teeth. In the hands of a killer, fear is just another weapon.

“Bring it, you piece of garbage,” I snarled, spit flying from my lips, sweat soaking right through my shirt. And I’d just bathed, too. In a river, but still. “Come at me.”

And damn it if the teeth thing didn’t work. The angel hesitated, parts of his body making hesitant attempts to look ferocious, but his feet were planted firmly in place.

“I said kill him,” Sadriel said icily, her voice like a knife.

“But ma’am.” Sweat was pouring down the side of the angel’s head, dripping into the collar of his shirt. “He just killed – ”

Whatever the dead angel’s name had been, I never learned. Sadriel acted far too fast. She swept her arm in a semicircle, her pen leaving her fingers with the bang and velocity of a bullet. It struck the angel in the forehead, pointed end first, boring through his skull, then his brain. The angel’s eyes rolled up into the back of his head. He slumped to the ground with a heavy thud, blood pouring from the bullet – no, from the pen hole in his skull.

“Jesus Christ,” I said.

“Please,” Sadriel said, pushing her glasses up her nose. “Let’s not get him involved, too.”

I lowered my sword hand, gesturing at the second angel’s corpse. “Now was that really necessary?”

Sadriel sniffed, lifting her chin at me, her glasses glinting threateningly in the sunlight. “I don’t tolerate insubordination, Mr. Albrecht. Hesitation in a combat situation is not a trait I find admirable. Besides, they will reform, as is our way.” She sneered at the angel corpses like they had personally pissed into her oatmeal. “I pray that they will learn a valuable, if painful lesson.”

My sword arm twitched, the blade falling from my fingers. It clattered against the ground, clanging once before disappearing in a puff of golden dus

t. Sadriel’s two other bodyguards reappeared at her side with Florian standing between them. He looked unharmed, and honestly a little cheerful. I could’ve socked him in the face.

“That’s all we needed, boys,” Sadriel said. “We can go.”

My forehead wrinkled as I barreled forward, but my pain cut me short. I clutched my arm and bit on my tongue to stop myself from crying out. Florian’s eyes went wide at the sight of me stumbling. He raced to my side, supporting me with his arms. Fine. Okay. He was forgiven.

“That’s it?” I managed to grunt. “You showed up just to test me?”

“Yes, Mr. Albrecht. We came to evaluate the extent of your powers.”

“You’re crazy,” I said.

“Crazy is right.” Sadriel raised her finger, waving it in an upsettingly patronizing manner. “Crazy obsessed with data, with making sure you aren’t a danger to those around you. Do behave, Mr. Albrecht.” She adjusted her glasses and winked, the gesture a soft, wordless threat. “We’re always watching.”

And with that, the angel of order and her cohorts – alive or dead – vanished in a flash of light.

4

I winced as Florian prodded at my collarbone, lifting my arm and pressing his fingers along its length. It was like getting poked by a bunch of thick twigs, sort of like those massages where Russian men beat the hell out of you with wet branches, except way more uncomfortable. My arm, shoulder, and chest still hurt, but Florian said I was going to be okay.

“Nothing’s broken,” he declared, satisfied after using his distressingly powerful hands to squeeze my body to a pulp.

“Thanks, I think.” I rotated my arm at the socket, convinced that I was sorer than when we started.

The angels had left no trace of their visitation. The blood was gone from the pavement, and there was no sign of Sadriel’s bullet-pen. It was probably still lodged in goon number two’s brain. Yikes.

“So they seriously attacked us just to see what you can do in a fight?”

“Correction,” I grumbled. “Attacked me. Where the hell were you for the fight, anyway? It’s like you disappeared.”