“I’ll be going with you as always.” Diel turned, and Gabriel was behind him, cloak gone and back to his everyday clerical clothing. “We’ll be going from house to house.” Diel needed the chase, to feel his adrenaline pump as he fled for the next location on foot. The spree. It was all about the spree, the frenzied sprint to the next victim, the fresh Massachusetts air slapping his burning face as he prepared to take another life. “I’ll be close by to bring you back in after the final home.”
Diel gripped the scroll in his hand and looked at Gabriel. He hated the collar being turned back on, the fall from the high that the murders would take him to. “When do we leave?”
“Soon. Get ready,” Gabriel said. He looked at the rest of the Fallen. “I’ll be going into the houses after Diel. I’m not just going tonight to control his collar. We need new leads. I need to find something on the Brethren that will clue us in to where they are, how many of them there are, which parishes have been polluted by their evil. All avenues Maria and I have tried have come up short so far, but we are determined.”
“Then we’ll all come. We’ll all look for information,” Uriel said. Michael slowly moved closer to Gabriel. Michael probably wasn’t even aware he was doing it. But anytime Gabriel was in trouble, Michael hovered around him as if his physical presence could stop any harm coming to his older brother. He never spoke to Gabriel. Never gave his feelings away. But he displayed it in his own unique ways. “You’re not going into their fucked-up homes alone.”
Gabriel shook his head at Uriel. “It’s too risky. I’ll be quick and done before the clean-up comes in.” Gabriel hired black-market firms to clean up after Bara’s and Diel’s kills. The firms had no idea who hired them, and there was no trace back to the Fallen—such was the way in the murky, corrupt underworld that existed in parallel to normal people’s mundane existences.
“That’s dangerous, Angel,” Bara said. Michael reached for the vial of blood around his neck and began rocking on his feet.
“We’ll all go,” Sela said. “We’ll all look for leads.”
“I’m not risking you all,” Gabriel said, his voice sterner.
“And if you’re caught?” Raphael asked.
“Then Maria has instructions.” Gabriel looked at Diel, cutting off all conversation. “Get ready. We leave soon.”
Chapter 4
The van came to a stop, and it plunged into silence. Diel’s heavy breathing sounded like thunder in the small space. The collar hissed as Diel’s pulse began to rise. Gabriel turned in his seat, dressed in all black just like Diel—one with the night. “We’ll see you at the final house.” Gabriel lifted the remote for the collar from his pocket and began to turn it down. Second by second, Diel felt the voltage decrease, and an orgasmic shudder rolled through his bones.
As he cast one last look at Gabriel, Diel felt the collar click into silence. With an internal feral roar, the monster burst from its electric confinement and flooded Diel’s body, saturating his blood with pitch-black darkness.
Diel’s eyesight immediately cleared, and the sharp focus that came with the monster’s possession took control. He sighed in relief of surrendering to his evil and smiled as, with a burst of pure fury, he kicked open the back doors of the van, jumped onto the cold ground and rushed to the dark coverage of the nearby cluster of trees. Diel scanned his surroundings. He saw the old stone house that held the priest he was about to tear apart. It was dark and secluded, and his lip hooked up. He could make the priest scream, and no one would hear.
Making sure everything was clear, Diel burst from the trees and rushed toward the house. His breathing was quiet as stealth took the lead. He stopped beside the back door, slowly pushed the handle, and found it open. His monster stilled, suspicious of why the home was open in the dead of night.
Diel ducked inside the house, freezing as he listened for any signs of life. His heart slammed in excitement, and his blood soared through his veins like rapids. His monster curled his lips back at the silence. Then Diel’s head snapped up when he heard muffled sound. A wide grin plastered itself onto his face, and he made for the staircase.
Following the sound of quiet, distressed cries, he felt shivers trickle down his spine. The priest was scared. The fucking Brethren priest was pissing himself. Diel liked his victims best when they were terrified. Fear had a particular scent, an addictive taste that would burst on his tongue like the finest wine as the kill was executed.
He reached the door of the priest’s room and kicked it open with his heavy boot. Diel charged at the bed, knives ready in the waist of his pants. But he stilled, his monster’s lust for death halted, when he saw the priest bound on the bed, a gag in his mouth. The fucker’s eyes were wide and locked on Diel. Diel studied his prey, his monster surveying what it had found. His gaze landed on the priest’s split lip and the “H” that had been smudged onto his forehead with blood.