“Next?” he asked with a bored tone.
They attacked en masse, eliminating the need for further conversation. Luc dispatched the first three in rapid succession before he managed to slice a hole in the fabric of space and call his crew to the ready.
Seeing his intent, Michael lent his muscle to the fight.
The battle turned dicey.
After pausing only long enough to draw a cloaking sigil, Lucifer renewed his attack with vigor and stealthily cut down two more.
Left with only four warriors, Michael slowed time to a crawl. Unfortunately for Luc, the tactic revealed his location.
“Let us finish this, brother. You and me,” Michael called across the divide.
“What are you suggesting, Mikey? A battle to the death?”
“If you’d prefer.”
Lucifer scoffed. “Is that Father’s end goal? To see me dead?”
Discomfort raced across his brother’s face before he schooled his features.
“Ah. It appears the Creator has other plans for me yet,” Luc taunted. “No killing his favorite son.”
“You aren’t his favorite,” Michael spat. “You lost that rank when you rebelled.”
“Some might suggest a father should be proud of a child who paved their own path,” Luc mused aloud as he lit his sword and casually executed a series of muscle-loosening moves. When his shoulders were no longer tense, he balanced on the balls of his feet. “What is his plan for Nadia? Death?”
“Yes.”
Ignoring how the confirmation added to the pressure building in his chest, he sucked in air between his teeth and tsked. “I hate to disappoint—oh, who am I kidding? I love to disappoint. So I’ll state it plainly since you didn’t understand the first time. Nadia is off limits.”
“You’re a fool.”
He gave a sharp nod as if in agreement. “Perhaps.”
“Then let us fight. I tire of your voice.” Michael raised his sword and his brows. “Or you can be a good little captive and chain yourself.”
The jeer fell wide of its mark.
“One question first, and I shall give you the workout you wish,” Luc replied.
“Ask. If I’m feeling generous after you’re in irons, I may answer.”
He smiled at his brother’s predictable response and held up a finger. “One sec.” Without breaking eye contact with Michael, he turned his head. “Thamiel?”
“Yes, my liege?”
“Warn Gabriel to reinforce the wards on the complex and not to let Nadia out of his sight. And let her know, I’ll be back by supper time.”
“It shall be”—Thamiel ran an opponent through—“done, my liege.”
“Good man.” To Michael, Lucifer asked, “Now, where were we?”
Days passed without a word from Luc. No text. No call. No daemon messenger after Thamiel had instructed Gabriel to tighten the wards. A week into her torturous wait, Nadia begged her father to retrieve the ancient texts from the library. If she didn’t have a distraction from her sorry-ass thoughts, she’d go mad.
“Please, Gabriel. I can’t sit around here without something to occupy me. I’ll lose what’s left of my mind.” Her tone leaned dangerously close to whining, but she was done with inactivity. There were only so many shows and books a girl could binge.
“I’ve offered to train you, remember?” He determinedly ignored how often she’d shunned his previous attempts. If she had to keep busy, she preferred her chosen career and making mortgage money to all other forms of distraction.
