Page 90 of Alastair
The air stirred as something flew past me. A blur of wild blond hair was all I saw before the two demons dropped to their knees, their throats slit from ear to ear. Gray stood in front of the door and wiped off his blade.
“That was hot,” Mason muttered to himself.
“Smalls the Assassin strikes again.” Raiden grinned.
Alastair stepped over the dead demons and pushed open the two doors. Light from the room bled out into the darkened corridor. He waited for me to step up behind him before walking across the threshold. His brothers and their mates weren’t far behind us.
Lucifer stood in front of a large window, his back to us. Snow continued to fall outside, and frost snaked along the outer edges of the glass. The soft, pale light contrasted with the golden flickers coming from the fireplace.
Ornate woodwork decorated the room, and the tapestries on the walls were somewhat tattered but mostly intact. Books lined dusty shelves along one wall, and there was a writing desk and chairs with worn cushions. Fitting he would hole up in a place that had once been a private drawing room for the lord of the castle.
“Quite bold of you to come here.” Lucifer turned from the window, black hair falling over one shoulder. Light Bringer was sheathed at his side. “Still, I expected as much. With me on the surface, I knew you’d track my location.”
“You’re associating with witches now?” Alastair asked. “Why?”
“Even insects can serve a purpose.” Lucifer eased forward. Casual. Confident. “The forest holds great power. An endless source of intense arcane energy. The witches specialize in the magic I seek and require the river of magic flowing within the nexus.”
“Magic for what?” I asked.
Lucifer’s head tilted a bit as his gaze fell on me. “Something’s different about you, Lazarus.” He then glanced at Alastair, and a slow smile spread across his face. “Fated mates. Now, thatisinteresting. And highly unexpected. Though if anyone were to manage to tempt Lazarus, I suppose only Pride himself could do it.”
“Enough talking.” Alastair tightened the grip on his sword. “Your reason for being here doesn’t matter. You’ll be dead before dawn.”
“Is that so?” Lucifer’s calculating blue eyes flickered amongst the brothers and their mates. “You truly think you can kill me, Alastair?”
“No.” Alastair shook his head. “I alone can’t kill you. I accept that limitation. But with my brothers by my side, you’ll draw your final breath tonight.”
He was keeping Pride in check. But before I could be grateful for his restraint, my skin tingled. My head snapped toward the doorway as five fallen angels entered the room.
Belphegor was in front, followed by the rest. Enepsigos, a female fallen angel. Flauros, who had feline-like features. Halpas and Amun were the last to enter.
“Dad,” Gray said with a tremble in his voice.
Belphegor didn’t look at him, but I saw the slight tensing of his shoulders. He walked over to Lucifer.
“You’d stand against your own son for me?” Lucifer asked, running his lips along Belphegor’s earlobe.
“I’ll stand against anyone who calls you an enemy.”
Gray made a strangled little sound.
Despite all the wrong Belphegor had done, a part of Gray still held on to hope he would change. Much like Belphegor hoped his son would eventually join his side. Both were wrong. A fact made all too clear as we stood with a clear line drawn between us.
Flauros flashed to Alastair’s side, and a swell of panic bubbled in my chest as I caught sight of the celestial dagger placed at his throat. “This is the son of Azazel? Pathetic. I could snuff him out with one slice.” I summoned my whip, and he dug the blade a bit into Alastair’s skin. “Lower your weapon, Lazarus, or I’ll cut his pretty little neck.”
I obeyed. My heart lay at the tip of his dagger.
Lucifer’s gaze hardened as he watched them. Was he nervous too? Or… was he merely curious about what would happen next? Alastair meant something to him. Even if that something only came from what Alastair could do for him—his power and influence.
The cursed sons tensed. A guttural growl came from Galen, whose eyes were completely black now, like a male possessed.
“Trust me, Laz,”Alastair said telepathically.“I’m not dying here.”
I then noted his body language. His muscles relaxed, and a peaceful yet unsettling gleam shone in his eyes. Eyes that now had sparks of purple swirling in the blue depths. He was going to use Pride’s power—a power he despised and once swore to never use again.
Alastair made eye contact with the fallen angel. “You’re so strong that nothing can harm you.” The richness of his voice was soothing. Hypnotic. “Not even that dagger in your hand. If you thrust it into your chest, it won’t even break the skin.”
Flauros blinked as purple sparked in his eyes, and then he gave a slight shake of his head. His gaze fell to his dagger. “Nothing can harm me,” he said under his breath before withdrawing the blade from Alastair’s neck. He then placed that blade to his chest.
