“God’s blessings be upon you, Shepherdssin.”
“Of course they are, Cornelius, what do you have?”
“There is a child—”
Mama wagged her finger at him and placed it against her lips, cutting off any discourse about the child.
“I’ve found the ones you sought, the killers of the Patron’s only son.”
“Well, that is a surprise. Perhaps you aren’t as unskilled as I was led to believe.”
His face heated with embarrassment. “To be honest, they found me.”
“No matter, they are the incompetent spawn of demons. The Shepherd was right to choose you for this undertaking, Cornelius, but you’re still a disappointment. You know what must be done.”
“But God has given me a greater purpose,” he whispered. “I must protect the child.”
“You must yield to the will of the Good Shepherd,” the Shepherdssin said. “He is the holy redeemer of faith, the mouthpiece of the Lord’s will on earth. He is His sword and our salvation. Good Shepherd of the wayward flock continues to guide the unholy, for it is his will and his vision…You know the rest, Cornelius. Fail and the order will bring His wrath down upon you, make you suffer more than you ever have before. Do what you must, brother. I have my own demon to slay.”
Delilah disconnected the call and Cornelius sat there, numb, looking down, tears streaming down his face.
She would not help him.
No one would help him, no one would protect him, no one had ever protected him. There was so much to live for now, but he couldn’t live if the Order decreed that he was meant to die. They had killed him in so many ways.
He stood and took a step back from the bar. His death was inevitable, but if the nest of evil was destroyed, the child at least would be safe.
His heart was breaking.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered before turning the circular center of the cross and combining the liquid components inside. He gripped the cross with both hands and nodded vigorously. “I’m sorry.”
The demons, sensing their time on earth had come to an end, moved as if operating from a hive mind, but they didn’t act in aggression toward him. Perhaps they now feared him, feared the light of God that would consume them.
Cornelius looked up when nothing immediately happened.
Perhaps the Lord had found him worthy and stayed this destruction, but no one else seemed to realize this. Terry hit something behind the bar and a sheet of metal descended, covering the rows of alcohol that lined the wall behind the bar.
Mama regarded him with rage-filled eyes. She was no longer Mama, she was the mother of demons, and she leaped off the bar and also struck something near theEmployees Onlydoor. Tables fell over, as if a piston was sprung at their base, the consort was shoved behind one.
Cornelius felt pain erupt through his chest. Looking down, he saw the demon’s blade there, embedded to the hilt. He used one hand to clutch the cross as the other clutched the blade. Overwhelmed by the pain, he fell to his knees, and when he looked up, his gaze was drawn to the metallic glint in the gray-eyed demon’s cold glare.
Cornelius fought to stand but his limbs would not obey.
His heart was grinding to a halt, his time winding down, and what did he have to show for it?
Hot tears slid down his face. Nothing. He had nothing.
He wanted the chance to ride a motorcycle, he wished he could have known that kind of freedom just once.
The cross’s liquid components ignited and burst through his soul, God’s wrath burning the world around him. He cried out, but no longer for God’s grace; he just wanted the agony to end.
Anguished, pain-filled screams echoed within the fire as demons were dispatched from this earthly plane and sent back to hell, but there was no comfort for Cornelius, no heavenly intervention for his sacrifice.
Only the pain and the belief that nothing better awaited him in death.
Fate was an impatient bitch screaming for him to get up when all Big Country wanted to do was stay wrapped around Stormy’s sleeping body and avoid the clusterfuck that this day was sure to become.
If the clock on the nightstand was to be trusted, it was near on five-fifteen in the morning, still dark but the sun would rise soon. Sighing, Big Country peeled back the covers and exited the bed, careful not to wake Stormy. His grands often preached that when there was important work to be done, it was best to get up and get to it. Let the sun be the one to greet you instead of the other way around. There was nothing to be gained by avoidance.
