Death of a Demon (The Dark Angel Wars 3)

“But they didn’t...” I said.

“No, they didn’t.” He shook his head, his hair falling in his face. “A pair of ferals dragged me in front of Seth. When we got there, I overheard him talking to one of his deceivers. He wants something. Something ancient and powerful. He said they’d failed to retrieve it during their attack on the manor.”

“Psyche's Urn?” I nearly jumped from the bed. That sounded right.

“I think so.” His eyes narrowed. “He sounded scared of it. As if he didn’t want us to figure out how it worked. But that was all I could overhear before he realized I was there. Then he had the nerve to try and smooth-talk me into joining him and his cause. I told him I’d rather die. He said that it could be arranged and sent me out to be killed.”

“But you got away.” I bit on my lower lip, thinking about how close to death he’d come.

“I got away.” He smiled softly. “Before they could slit my throat, I overpowered them and ran for it. I had to take a roundabout way back to the manor to avoid their scouts, but I made it. I had to make it back to you. You were the only thing on my mind.”

Closing my eyes, I leaned into his chest and once again he wrapped his arms around me. We sat like that for several minutes as the sun began to shine brightly through the window panes. It felt surreal. After two days of pure panic, I had him back. My heart hadn’t quite caught up with my head yet. It was as if I was going to wake up from a dream and find him still missing. I snuggled in closer to ward off the feelings. Finally, Gabe took a deep breath and pushed my hair behind my ear.

“There’s one last thing I haven’t mentioned.” His eyes flashed with an unease. “When I overheard Seth speaking to his demons, I think he mentioned someone working for him inside the manor.”

I wrinkled my nose. “What do you mean? There are no demons inside the manor.”

Well, that wasn’t exactly true. I had one living inside of me, like Gabe’s mother had so delicately pointed out. But she was tucked safely away in the dark corners of my mind—for now.

“I know.” He hesitated. “But it sounded like he meant there was a warrior working for him. A Nephilim. He was certain that person could obtain the box for him.”

I gasped. “That’s impossible. No one would do that!”

“I hope you’re right. But what if it’s true?”

There were over two hundred Nephilim living under the roof of the manor currently. I had to admit, I didn’t know half of them very well, especially the newcomers. To say it was impossible was a bit naive. Evil had a way of infiltrating the tightest of security. Maybe it wasn’t crazy to believe Gabe’s story.

“But who?” I asked, looking around at the empty hall. “How can we know?”

“I don’t think we can at this point.” He pushed himself up higher on the bed. “But there’s one thing we can do to make sure they don’t complete their mission.”

“What?”

“Hide the box.” He smiled grimly. “From everyone. Even Luke. That’s the only way to protect it. The only way to know for sure.”

My heart thudded dully in my chest. I didn’t like the idea of not letting Luke in on the plot. I’d spent much of my time here fighting battles by myself, trying to do things my way and resisting any outside help. Still, I had Gabe on my side. And if he thought we should hide it, that was what we’d do.

If this box truly was something so powerful—enough to scare a Prince of Hell into action, it had to be protected. Maybe, just maybe, we could figure out how to use it against him and finally put this thing to rest.

I was so tired of fighting. Tired of clawing my way back to the surface, only to be dragged down again by demonic forces. I wanted a normal life. As normal a life as a Nephilim could have. I wanted it with Gabe. We had to protect that weapon.

“Tonight,” he said, pressing his lips gently against mine. “Tonight, we’ll move it. Until we know it’s safe, we can’t rest.”

Chapter Thirteen

I hugged my knees as I sat on Gabe’s bed, watching him pull on a soft gray t-shirt and lace up his shoes. Doubt whispered in my ear. We should be discovering what that box did, not hiding it from Seth’s minions. Something about that box was important.

The more I thought about it, the more certain I became that Psyche’s Urn was a weapon of utmost power. It would be the turning of the tides in the war against Hell. If only we could discover what lay inside.

Every minute we delayed, Seth built his armies stronger. The scouts reporting back today said that at least a hundred more demons in human skin had joined the camp. They were milling about, only a few miles from here, while we hunkered down in terror.

Word had been sent to the remaining Hell Gates. They were sending as much reinforcement as possible, but travel from their countries could take days. Seth and his army might attack any day. We couldn’t rely on their help.

As Gabe strapped a dagger the size of his palm to the inside of his ankle, I wondered about the possibility of the Prince of Hell having a man on the inside at Westward Manor. Surely, he wasn’t telling the truth. I thought about the friends I’d made in my short time here. I trusted each and every one of them with my life.

None of them would sell their soul to the devil. It wasn’t possible. Even Adam, the man who’d tried to kill me at one time, wasn’t a candidate. He was fiercely loyal to the Nephilim. That only left the newcomers.

So far, I hadn’t managed to spend much time with many of our foreign guests from Luke’s lab, except for Noah Brown. Any one of them could be the mole. Even Noah, if I had to be honest. There was no way to tell for sure.