His massive hand tilted her face up to his. "You were born for this," he rumbled. His thumb brushed her cheek in a waythat made her heart skip beats. "These artifacts chose you. And so did I."
Before she could process that bombshell, vile energy slammed through the room like a supernatural freight train. Every artifact on the table started screaming warnings at her magical senses which automatically reached out to find the source of the disturbance. "The French Quarter," she barked out. "Lucifer's crew is making their play."
Camael's wings snapped out, and his Sword of Light materialized. "Time to crash their party." He turned to Rami and said, “It’s a good thing you haven’t gone to NYC yet. I have a feeling we’re going to need you for this.”
Rami nodded as Amelia strapped on the artifacts like she was gearing up for war. Because that's exactly what this was. Here she was, about to face down the Prince of Lies with some family heirlooms, an archangel who looked at her like she hung the stars, and his team of misfits. It would have to be enough.
"Ready to raise some hell?" she asked, taking his offered hand.
His answering smile could've cut glass. "I was born ready."
She clung to him as he teleported them across town. She was leaving the safety of their home to face whatever darkness waited in the French Quarter. Some things were worth risking everything for. Balance, it turned out, was one of them.
CHAPTER 5
The French Quarter didn't give a shit about Lucifer's plans. Camael figured that out real quick as he followed Amelia. They wove through streets that had seen three hundred years of history and were about to get a fresh coat of demon blood. The female moved like she was born for war. Her power crackled around her in waves that made his warrior's soul sit up and beg.
The night air was thick with corruption, booze, and tourist sweat. Music from Bourbon Street's endless party mixed with screams that weren't coming from drunk college kids. The usual scents of pralines and gumbo had been replaced by sulfur. Also, there was something that smelled like death had crawled up from the bayou and decided to throw a block party.
A familiar presence hit Camael's senses seconds before several figures materialized on the corner ahead of them. Izzy moved with the lethal grace of vampire royalty. Her black hair whipped around a face that carried her father's sapphire blue eyes and her mother's deadly beauty. The Dark Warriors flanked her like living shadows. Aison's massiveform rippled with barely contained shifter energy. Slate's vampire speed left afterimages in the humid air. And Luke's sorcerer magic crackled blue-white around his hands while Micah swirled his blades.
"Heard you could use some backup," Izzy called out, her fangs flashing in a warrior's smile.
"Your timing's perfect, Cupcake," Rami called out. His eyes lit up at the sight of her even as he scanned the rooflines. The male had come a long way and forged one of the deepest bonds Camael had ever seen with the princess. He had to keep Izzy alive and act as her Guardian Angel to earn his AOR wings. "Lucifer might be making his move."
“That would explain why we got calls about increased demonic presence,” Izzy replied as she fell into step with Rami.
"You feel that?" Amelia called over her shoulder. Her dark hair whipped in the supernatural wind that had kicked up. Power danced around her hands like she was holding lightning.
Yeah, he felt it. The evil in the air was thicker than a po'boy and twice as messy. Lucifer's corruption was spreading through the Quarter like cancer. It was turning the usual tourist trap vibe into something that would give Stephen King nightmares.
"Boss, we've got problems on Bourbon. Big ones. Word is they aren't your brother's demons," Cass called out.
"Define big," Camael demanded as he scanned the rooflines. Movement caught his eye. Something with too many limbs was using Cafe du Monde's awning like a jungle gym.
Beside him, Aison's massive form rippled. Muscles bunched as he prepared to shift. The Pacific Islander's dark eyes tracked the movement above. His warrior's instincts were likely already calculating trajectories.
"Remember that thing in Detroit? The one that ate half a SWAT team?" Cass asked.
Camael had seen pictures. "Yeah."
"This is twice as ugly. And it has friends. Lots of them." A crash echoed through the line, followed by creative cursing in three dead languages. "Make that Dante's Inferno with backup dancers."
Camael cursed. They were spread thin enough to make cellophane jealous. They’d take these creatures out. Because that’s the thing about being Heaven's most feared fighting force... they knew you didn't get to pick your battles. Sometimes, the battles picked you, grabbed you by the celestial short hairs, and dragged you face-first into the crazy.
"Rally at Jackson Square," Camael ordered. His wings itched to manifest as more screams split the night. Human screams. Terrified screams. The kind that said someone had just seen something their brain couldn't process without a lot of therapy. "And somebody get eyes on whatever the hell is happening on Bourbon."
"Already on it." Jo replied as she gestured to her right. "Mal and Zach are working their way down from Canal.”
Malachi looked like he was about to take off and sighed. “Thank the goddess. The bastards aren’t trying to take out Pat O'Brien's. Like we'd let them destroy the home of the Hurricane."
"Priorities, Mal," Rami cut in as he moved to cover Izzy's flank. The vampire princess was dealing death with a grace that made battle look like dancing.
"Hey, some institutions are sacred," the Dark Warrior countered.
Luke shook his head. “We need to send a unit to Esplanade. The demons took out the Praline Connection. I just got a message that looks like a drunk bulldozer operator got loose in the building."
"Az, Jo. Head over and see what you can do,” Camael ordered as he sliced through a massive pus demon. The thing smelled awful when burned.
