Angel Betrayed (The Fallen 2)

Delia stared back at him. “You will soon be where you belong.”

Those f**king Fallen. He hadn’t done his job. Hadn’t punished them. So now he was being punished. “I’ll take them out! I’ll clear the earth of the abominations . . .”

He spun away from her. He knew what to do. He still had his wings. He wasn’t cast out. He was—

“Not all abominations are on earth,” Delia said softly.

He stilled as her words sank in. The rage bubbled then and raked beneath his skin like claws. “You dare to judge me?”

“No.” Her voice was still quiet. “That’s not my job.”

Sammael. It was the bastard’s fault. He’d shifted the balance. Brought too much evil to the world.

Punish . . .

“The judgment is at hand,” Delia told him. “Be ready.”

Then her wings rustled, and she flew away from paradise.

The instant she vanished, Rogziel charged those heavy white doors, but they wouldn’t open for him. They wouldn’t open. He clawed. He punched. His hands broke, and he bled.

But the doors wouldn’t budge.

“No!” His scream.

I bet they changed the f**king locks.

“Let me in!” he yelled.

No one answered his cry.

The doors stayed shut.

He’d served in heaven. Punished in hell and on earth.

Served . . .

“No!”

His blood stained the doors.

But they wouldn’t open.

Sam knew where to find Mateo. He always did. Find the nearest crossroads, light a match, and whisper a quick incantation, then all he had to do was wait for Mateo to appear.

Mateo wasn’t exactly a witch, no matter how hard he might try to claim otherwise. There was more than just witch blood flowing through his veins.

Mateo was a caller, too—one from a very long and dark line. Summon him at the crossroads, and he had to appear. Bind him, and he had to do your bidding.

“Sam?” Seline’s hand was in his. “What are we doing here?”

“Calling a friend,” he told her. “Now stand back.” Things were about to get even uglier than they had been, but he wouldn’t block her out. She’d be there for the end game and the freedom she wanted so badly.

She stepped back. Their fingers slid apart.

Tomas paced nervously near the edge of the road. “No, man, you are not doing a crossroads call. Don’t you know that you can’t trust whatever freak comes when you do this crap? These are monsters! They slipped out of hell, they—”

Sam used a blade to slice over his wrist. Blood dropped right onto the middle of the crossroads. He whispered the summoning chant once more, then, said simply, “Mateo.”

The sky above them darkened. A crack of lightning slammed into the ground, and with a scream, Mateo appeared.

Mateo’s shoulders hunched. His breath wheezed out. Coming to a crossroads was never easy for a caller. A caller had to slip past hell every time the crossroads beckoned. “Fuckin’ asshole . . .” Mateo muttered, raising his head to glare at Sam.

“No! Not him!” Tomas snarled as he recognized Mateo. “He’s working with Rogziel! I told you—aw, man, now we’re dead!”

Sam didn’t look at Tomas. “Guess Rogziel figured out how to summon you, huh?” His mixed blood was Mateo’s closest secret. His mother, Aviana, had been a crossroads spirit. Summon her and she’d grant your wish. Once she granted your wish, she’d make you wish again—only this time, you’d be wishing for death.

Crossroad spirits had no remorse. No guilt. With every life they took, their strength increased.

Once upon a long time ago, a male witch had come to Aviana. He’d wanted a child. He’d gotten one.

One wish granted . . .

Mateo lifted his head. His cheeks were hollowed. His eyes flat and cold. “Rogziel didn’t summon me, not at first. He called her. ”

Sam had no doubt as to the her in question. There was no more powerful crossroad spirit than Mateo’s mother.

“Guess I know what he wished for,” Sam said.

“I don’t!” Seline said, and she rushed forward. “What did he want?”

“A way to trap Fallen.”

Tomas whistled. “You’re a crossroads spirit? Oh, that is bad.”

“He got his wish,” Sam said, studying Mateo in the sunlight. Mateo had always hated what he was. Abomination. Yes, that’s what Rogziel would call him—and it was the way Sam knew Mateo saw himself.

Sam’s teeth snapped together. Mateo wasn’t evil. Not totally, anyway.

“Rogziel did,” Mateo agreed. “He got what he wanted. Aviana brought me to him. Made me show him the spells.” Rage bubbled in his voice. “When Rogziel got his wish, he killed her. Punishment he said, long overdue.” A rough laugh. “So f**king true. The bitch deserved to burn.”

“So does he.” Sam held Mateo’s glittering stare. “And I need you to help make sure that happens.”

But Mateo laughed again. “I saw what’s coming, remember? Rogziel wasn’t the one choking on his own blood.”

Seline gasped at that. Then she shoved right into the middle of the crossroads. Wrong move. Didn’t she realize? The middle of the crossroads was always a bad spot to be standing in. “Sam’s not dying! Do you understand? He’s not—”

A growl shook the air. Sam grabbed Seline and yanked her behind him—and away from that crossroads hot spot. “I told you to stay back.”

The ground buckled beneath them. The crossroads were gateways. Not a link to heaven, but a doorway to hell.

And Seline’s punisher blood was like a magic key to open that door.

Cracks split the dirt.

“Seal it!” Sam ordered Mateo as he kept a tight hold on Seline.

With a wave of his hand, Mateo stilled the earth. Then, slowly, he walked toward Sam and Seline. “She can’t control it.” A fleeting expression of regret swept over his face. “When the time comes, she won’t have the power to help you.”

“I won’t need help.”

Mateo shook his head. “You’re not immortal, no matter what you might think.” Mateo’s gaze darted to Tomas. “So many Fallen . . . do you honestly think you’re at the top of the food chain?”

Sam didn’t respond. Neither did Tomas.

But they didn’t have to speak, because Mateo said, “No, to them,” he jerked his hand back at the cracked ground, “you’re just tasty prey. The hounds rip you open and drag your soul right off this earth.”