Jegudiel (Deadly Virtues 2)

Gabriel nodded. He was about to speak when Noa asked, “I’m assuming you can all fight.”

Gabriel seemed taken aback by that. Uriel leaned forward, elbows on the table. “We’re serial killers. What do you think?”

Noa cracked her neck. “Being able to kill, individually, doesn’t mean you can fight collectively.” She scanned the Fallen men. “You have just turned your focus to fighting the Brethren and were only your run-of-the-mill, everyday murderers before that. We have been facing these pricks for years.” She tapped her nails on the table. “They can fight. They train together constantly—a well-oiled cohesive unit. You have no idea what awaits you. We have barely scratched the surface.”

“We set Purgatory fucking alight,” Sela said. Diel’s head remained bowed as he tried to keep himself calm. “We went in and killed them all.”

Noa huffed a laugh. “A few old priests who you caught unawares in the back of some secluded kids’ home.” Noa looked at her sisters, who were nodding in agreement with her. She leaned forward, and as she did, she saw Diel stiffen. His musky scent hit her nose, causing shivers to spread all over her skin.

She lost a breath before she schooled her features and carried on. “The Witch Finders, and the Brethren soldiers, await a holy war against all enemies. Their very own Armageddon. It’s been prophesized. They talked about it nonstop when my sisters and I were their captives.”

Noa remembered overhearing those conversations with crystal clarity. “They live and breathe solely for their mission to rid the world of evil. Of people like us.” Noa laughed, only because she could scarcely deal with the enormity of the influence and power their mutual enemy had. “You have no idea …” She shook her head, not in disrespect to the Fallen and their lack of knowledge of just how powerful the Brethren was, but at the seemingly impossible battle that was before them all. Thirteen of them versus an entire fleet of cult-whipped, zealot priests.

“And you’ve faced them?” Maria slipped her hand into Raphael’s, who appeared to be listening just as closely as the rest of them. He brought her fingers to his mouth and kissed each one.

Noa nodded. “Some.”

“But you don’t kill them?” Sela asked, clearly trying to understand how the Coven functioned as a unit. Dinah, Jo and Candace shook their heads, but Noa couldn’t do that and remain truthful. The air around her suddenly became stagnant when no response fell from her lips.

“Mmm,” Bara said. “Seems the serpent-tongued pink witch might sway toward our way of doing things. Am I right?”

Noa’s chin lifted, her nostrils flared and her teeth clenched. Her instant reaction was a silent admission. She felt Diel lock his penetrating gaze on her then. Her mind and body were hyperaware of him and his monster, as if she had an inbuilt alarm for any move he made. She had momentarily let her guard down and shown him a glimpse of her closely protected soul. A soul that was tarnished black and red, scarred and battle-worn, moth-eaten and torn.

When Noa finally looked at Diel, she knew, right then, it was the man watching her, not his monster. But what swept the air from her lungs was the expression on his face—not the look of contempt and vexation he usually cast her way, but a glimmer of interest that appeared like a speck of dust caught in a beam of light. It was the momentary shock of seeing a streak of a murderous stain within her too.

“Don’t worry, the men I killed more than deserved it.” Noa sat back in her chair, her leather pants creaking as she moved. She tried to push the conversation far away from her and her past. Talking about it only made her crave it, thirst for it … yearn for it. She was already fragile from the dream earlier.

She was weakening. Minute by minute, in Diel’s presence, she could feel her fight weakening. She masked her inner battle once again to say, “The truth is, we have no real idea of the vastness of the Brethren’s numbers or reach. But from the glimpse we got … it’s a motherfucking empire, not some small, brainwashed rebel army.”

“You killed them on your own?” Uriel asked, still stuck on Noa and her murderous past.

Noa tensed. She didn’t want to talk about it. Couldn’t. Her breath came harder, and she felt her darkness’s talons begin to smash at her walls. Only this time they were causing it to crumble, brick by brick, and Noa was helpless against the onslaught. She curled her hands into fists and tried to hold on.

Awkward silence stretched thin, until, “Our other sister, Priscilla …” Dinah pushed back her box braids, speaking instead of Noa. “Let’s just say she would fit in with you guys seamlessly. Better than she does with us. She’s the most ruthless killer I’ve ever met. No offense.”