Page 73 of The River of Hatred

“You should’ve told me that, poppet,” Sar growls.

“Either way, we’re there in a minute,” Aim interjects. “Try not to puke on Neph’s upholstery or he’ll castrate us.”

Snorting, I embrace Jess and caress her arm with long, soothing sweeps. She can throw up wherever she wants to. I’ll hold her hair.

Despite being a nefarious, ancient demon, Aim was speaking the truth and the commercial docks come into view not long after. We park a distance away from the warehouse we stalked, next to the other two death traps that brought our little cadre to the location.

Mike, Kevin, and Lana lean against the other car, while Nephithar stands next to his unsafe-looking, obscenely loud two-wheeled vehicle with his arms crossed. He’s wearing leather trousers and a tight black cotton shirt, looking much like Sariel, who is back to his leather bottoms and vest. They both have charcoal black hair and tanned skin stretched over defined muscle, though the demon is bigger and burlier.

The rest of our entourage is wearing leather armor as well, though only Lana’s is ornate in any way, decorated as it is by glowing gems. I squint at her. She feels much more like an archdemon again and I guess they are to blame, burning with hellfire as they are.

I am the only one in plate armor and as the Mediterranean late-spring sun reflects off the metal, I wish I had brought something lighter with me. When I think about commissioning something appropriate from Heaven’s armorsmiths, I remember I will no longer be welcome to do so. My heart sinks to the bottom of my plated boots.

Sariel takes my gloved hand into his, capturing my attention. “What has you so pensive?” he asks. “Strategizing our approach?”

I clear my throat. If only clearing my heart of its heaviness would be as simple. “I was thinking of acquiring a set of leather armor.”

“Oh, that’s easy.” He grins at me, his teeth looking especially white in the sun. Even his black eyes seem brighter in this light. “I’ll get you as many as you want as soon as we get home.”

My mouth automatically returns his smile. “Alright,” I say. With another squeeze of my hand, Sariel turns to approach the rest of our group. I may not be able to clear the heaviness from my heart on my own, but Sariel and Jessica seem to be more than successful at doing so.

“Divide and conquer?” Sariel asks Aim and Nephithar once we’re all within hearing distance.

The red-eyed demon nods. “I’ll go with my son,” he says, unnecessarily. “We’ll enter from the south side.”

“Kevin and I will join you,” Lana adds decisively.

“That leaves us four approaching from the North,” Aim finishes the short planning conversation. “Remember, we need at least one of them alive, but we should minimize the casualties anyway, for the Council’s sake.”

I reel back. “We will not kill any humans!” I’m here to prevent a slaughter, not execute it.

“These fuckers are evil, Itha,” Sariel growls. “I’m not saying we’ll be decapitating unarmed Cambions, but if one of them has a gun aimed Jess’ way, I’m ending them.”

I close my eyes and pray for calm. I did not consider the humans being a threat, but, naturally, he did. They managed to kill Armaros last year, after all.

“Do you want to stay behind?” our human asks quietly. I’m taken aback at her consideration but still shake my head.

“No,” I say, my voice allowing no argument. I will not let them head into danger without me to protect them. Waiting here will not appease my conscience.

“Let’s get going then,” the Cambion, Kevin, speaks up for the first time. “I want to get Naamah back to Hell, where it’s safe.”

Lana bends over laughing and slaps her thighs. “The things impending fatherhood makes you say,” she squeaks, gasping for air.

“Don’t pretend like you don’t want to get back to your hot Cheeto of a husband, Lana,” Jessica teases next.

“Are we quite done fooling around?” Nephithar grumbles. “I want to get my son out of here and go home to my wife too.”

Aim shakes his head. “The things love does to people, it’s not to be believed.”

∞∞∞

As we stalk through the dimly lit warehouse, we notice signs of recent activity everywhere; scattered papers, overturned furniture, even some ominous drops of blood. No Cambions to capture, though. Either they’re on the other side of the building or we have indeed come too late.

Just then, loud cracks sound from nearby. We stop and look at each other.

“Gunfire,” Aim says.

“Should we go to them?” I ask a moment before silence reigns again.

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