Burning Dawn (Angels of the Dark #3)(47)
Author: Gena Showalter

“You could have killed hundreds of humans,” the Elite soldier said.

“I know. The prince—”

“Acted because you did not heed my order.”

He gave a stiff nod. “I know that, too. I regret my actions.”

Surprise whisked through eyes so green they could have been mistaken for emeralds. “Do you?”

“Yes.” Arrogance had cost him a much-desired victory. Maybe more.

“I hope so. Because every decision you make affects more than your life,” Zacharel said, black hair brushing his cheek. “It affects the lives of those who love and depend on you.”

The words struck a very sensitive chord inside Thane. He knew his actions affected the lives of his loved ones. He’d chosen to stay at the building, and Bjorn and Xerxes almost died. Elin almost lost her protector. His club almost fell under new management. Immortals from all over the world would have made a bid for it.

“I have a new assignment for you,” Zacharel said, and Thane realized with startling clarity that he would not be receiving punishment.

“Have you nothing more to say about Rathbone?” he demanded.

“No. You endangered lives, but you also saved them. Now, listen.”

Dazed, he nodded. In that moment, he felt…loved by his leader. Accepted.

It was humbling.

“It’s imperative that we diminish the prince’s growing army.” Determination pulsed from the warrior. “One of his many hordes has been found in New York. I’ll send you the coordinates when you reach land.”

He flexed his fingers with anticipation. “How was the horde found?”

“Maleah.”

Maleah. Of course. A fallen Sent One. She monitored the world and its happenings, never resting. Once, she had been one of the most beloved members of the heavenly armies. Now she was determined to help the people she’d let down when she gave up her wings—for whatever reason. Speculation was rampant, but facts were few and far between.

Once, Thane had lusted for her. Now, he mentally placed the pale-haired gothic beauty next to the dark-haired, delicate Elin. There was no contest.

“Take the soldiers you need and kill the demons,” Zacharel instructed. “Kill them all. Leave no minion standing.”

Very well. No mercy. A policy he still excelled at. Thane nodded, anticipation already slithering through him. “And if we come across the prince?” he asked.

“Summon me.”

“All will be done as you have said.” Unfortunately, his meeting with Lucien would have to wait.

As he dived from the cloud, he communicated with Magnus, Malcolm, Jamilla and Axel all at once, commanding their presence on the roof of another building owned by Rathbone Industries in Times Square. Now.

Zacharel gave him the coordinates he would need as he landed. Thane tucked his wings into his back and peered down at the colorful human world. The streets were crowded. Neon lights flashed. The atmosphere was thick with scents of food, perfume and exhaust. Voices chattered; cars honked. Some footsteps click-clacked. Some thumped.

He heard the warriors arrive behind him. He turned, told them what Zacharel had said and where they were going. The same anticipation he felt was mirrored in their expressions.

“I want one demon left alive,” he announced. “Doesn’t matter which one.” Post-battle interrogations were always fun.

Nods of agreement met his words.

“Let’s do this thing!” Axel said with a whoop.

In unison, the group leaped from the building and arrowed toward the ground below. Because the warriors were in the spirit realm, their bodies were like mist as they bypassed the road, the subway system, and entered a labyrinth of dark, dank, forgotten tunnels.

At the bottom, Thane solidified his body and palmed a sword of fire. The others did the same, and the flames acted as torches, casting golden light in every direction. The smell of sulfur stung his nostrils. Cackles echoed up ahead, but it was impossible to tell where they originated. The blood-splattered walls provided too many options.

Thane held up his free hand and signed the direction he wanted each warrior to go. The group split up, everyone snaking their assigned corner.

Alert, on guard, he raced forward, using his wings to propel him faster and faster despite the tight, cramped space. The voices grew louder. He heard humans now. Whimpering. Pleas for mercy that would never come. He gave up following the man-made tunnels and ghosted through the walls, the vibration of the sounds guiding his feet. But he took a wrong turn and ended up in an empty room.

Scowling, he tried again.

And again.

And again.

Finally, he cleared the mud and concrete and entered—

A hell on earth. A scene from his deepest nightmares.

At least thirty demons of every type congregated in a large room with crumbling stone walls, dilapidated wooden columns, and a floor swimming with dark, congealing blood.

Six humans were chained throughout. Two females, three males. One child. Thane’s stomach twisted. He sent his warriors a mental map of his location.

He didn’t understand this. The prince’s demons were supposed to do anything necessary to possess certain humans. This went far beyond possession—it went far beyond depravity. Some of the creatures lounged in the blood, lapping at it. Some still tormented the humans, clawing at bits of exposed flesh and laughing.

Thane’s sword illuminated every wicked act, and one by one the demons noticed and faced him. Maniacal glee gave way to fear in every glowing red eye as the Sent Ones entered and closed off every possible exit.

That was all he’d been waiting for.

“Now!” Thane shouted.

Chaos erupted.

The Sent Ones jolted into action, swords swinging with lethal purpose. The demons with wings tried to fly away, but Thane and Axel were having none of that and clipped the appendages before a single creature could leave the den of horrors.

Heads began to roll across the floor. Arms no longer attached to bodies flew through the chamber. Howls of pain rang out. Thane remained in constant motion, happily slicing, slicing, slicing at his enemy. No one could escape him.

“Someone do me a solid and try to make this difficult for me,” Axel quipped. “Or am I just too good? Yeah. That one. I’m so good I couldn’t beat me.”

Magnus and Malcolm played hack and sack with a serp demon, punting the snakelike creature at each other—but only after removing another appendage each time. Soon, there was nothing left to punt.

Jamilla pinned an envexa to the ground and plucked out his eyes…then cut out his tongue…then ripped out his throat.