Sighing, Luce looked away from her quiet house, turning to the neighbor's. He could feel Samuel's essence all over the place. His future was easy to see, a long and happy life before he ascended back to Heaven where his soul originated. Luce wished he could see that for Serah.
Fuck, he wished he could see anything for her.
If she was destined for Heaven, he could walk away, leave her in peace with a life he'd forced upon her. If she were destined for Hell, he would fight tooth and nail to save her. But she seemed to just be fated to exist in the moment. What would happen when her heart stopped beating?
He waved his hand toward the yard around the Barlow house. The grass shriveled, withering back into the ground until it was the same short length as everyone else's. He was watching it when a peculiar sting shot down his spine, a feeling that had consumed him all day.
It felt like a knife in his back.
Danger.
He searched out Serah, straining himself to sense her across town, and froze when he faintly caught the melody of her heartbeat. It thumped feverishly, so hard he could ear its echo like it was banging against her ribcage, desperately trying to escape. The second the sound struck him, another joined it, jarring him as the pop of static ricocheted through the neighborhood, so loud dogs started barking, a nearby car alarm suddenly wailing.
Luce turned, seeing a dozen angels, some with recognizable faces, a few with weapons but most unarmed. The brazen fuckers were visible, shields completely down. Any mortal could look out the window and see them descending upon the neighborhood. He scanned the crowd for Abaddon, but his old friend was nowhere to be found. Luce sought him out, uneasiness in the pit of his stomach.
Anger gripped him.
The Guardian was startlingly close to that frantic heartbeat.
The angels started toward Luce as he reached for his weapon, gripping it tightly. He had the advantage, since they couldn't take his wings, but they could wound him enough to keep him from leaving. Some of them faltered when he pulled his knife out, but one brave Power lunged right for him. They were slow, and sloppy, clearly not the best fighters up above. They weren't sent to stop him, or harm him. They were a deterrent.
A distraction.
That son of a bitch.
Luce swung his knife, stabbing, grabbing, slicing, dicing, and nicking every bit of angel he could reach. They swarmed him on all sides, Grace bathing him when he plunged his knife through an angel's chest and yanked it back out. He scarcely had time to enjoy the sensation, to relish in the surge of energy, when a knife stabbed him in the side. He grunted at the sharp pain, swinging toward his assailant, a pretty little Virtue in a red gown. Pity.
Luce grabbed her arm, twisting it, pulling the knife straight from her hand. He stabbed her with it, stabbed her straight in the stomach, bringing his own blade down through her back when she hunched over. She exploded in a ball of light, surrounding him, the tingle easing some of the burn from the wound.
Fuck, he hated how slow he healed.
"Michael," he shouted, looking up at the night sky as he fended off another attack, taking a nick to the cheek. "Brother, if there's ever a moment for you to try to intervene in my goddamned existence, this would be it."
He swung around, taking out the winged bastard that had cut him. Another female. He sliced another, swinging around as a second loud pop of static tore through the neighborhood.
Luce's eyes instantly met a pair of familiar ones.
Michael.
"Thank fucking Heavens," Luce groaned.
"I'm not doing this for you," Michael said right away, swinging his sword, taking two out at once.
"I know you're not," Luce said. "I'm just glad you're doing it."
More static rocked the night, more angels appearing. "Reinforcements," Luce muttered. "Beautiful."
There was a pop of static directly to his left, not but a few feet away. He turned, about to throw his knife right at whoever it was, but hesitated with it raised. Another pretty Virtue, but this one he knew. Hannah.
"Not you, too, sunshine," he said. "Tell me you're not one of Abaddon's fools."
She froze, genuinely stunned by the sight, before her face twisted in disgust. "Never."
"Good to know," Luce said, shoving her out of the way to take out an angel behind her. "So what are you doing here?"
"Serah," she said, her voice urgent. "She's in trouble."
Luce nodded, swinging around, throwing his knife halfway across the yard and impaling a burly looking Power right in the forehead. He flicked his wrist and his knife can hurling back, the angel exploding into a cloud of expelled Grace. He turned to Michael, seeing his brother was bogged down. It wasn't a matter of winning or losing. They'd win… no doubt about it. Archangels never lost. It was a matter of battle, of endurance, of taking out the other side.
Michael looked over at him, nodding. "Go."
"You sure about that?"
Just as he said it, another loud pop rocked the street, quaking the ground. More angels appeared, this time Powers sent from above. Luce laughed to himself. His Father had sent help.
"I am now," Michael said, turning his focus to Hannah. "You know how to use a knife, Virtue?"
Hannah nodded. "Samuel taught me long ago."
Michael tossed her a discarded weapon, and she caught it mid-air.
"Don't hold back," he told her. "They won't."
Luce didn't hesitate any more, zapping right out of there and to the old motel. The place was unlocked, the door open, lights on, but nobody was around. Her heartbeat was gone, as was Abaddon. He sought them out, zapping from place to place, city to city, and country to country, going everywhere he sensed Abaddon had gone, until finally… finally… he found him.
Fuck, he wished he could see anything for her.
If she was destined for Heaven, he could walk away, leave her in peace with a life he'd forced upon her. If she were destined for Hell, he would fight tooth and nail to save her. But she seemed to just be fated to exist in the moment. What would happen when her heart stopped beating?
He waved his hand toward the yard around the Barlow house. The grass shriveled, withering back into the ground until it was the same short length as everyone else's. He was watching it when a peculiar sting shot down his spine, a feeling that had consumed him all day.
It felt like a knife in his back.
Danger.
He searched out Serah, straining himself to sense her across town, and froze when he faintly caught the melody of her heartbeat. It thumped feverishly, so hard he could ear its echo like it was banging against her ribcage, desperately trying to escape. The second the sound struck him, another joined it, jarring him as the pop of static ricocheted through the neighborhood, so loud dogs started barking, a nearby car alarm suddenly wailing.
Luce turned, seeing a dozen angels, some with recognizable faces, a few with weapons but most unarmed. The brazen fuckers were visible, shields completely down. Any mortal could look out the window and see them descending upon the neighborhood. He scanned the crowd for Abaddon, but his old friend was nowhere to be found. Luce sought him out, uneasiness in the pit of his stomach.
Anger gripped him.
The Guardian was startlingly close to that frantic heartbeat.
The angels started toward Luce as he reached for his weapon, gripping it tightly. He had the advantage, since they couldn't take his wings, but they could wound him enough to keep him from leaving. Some of them faltered when he pulled his knife out, but one brave Power lunged right for him. They were slow, and sloppy, clearly not the best fighters up above. They weren't sent to stop him, or harm him. They were a deterrent.
A distraction.
That son of a bitch.
Luce swung his knife, stabbing, grabbing, slicing, dicing, and nicking every bit of angel he could reach. They swarmed him on all sides, Grace bathing him when he plunged his knife through an angel's chest and yanked it back out. He scarcely had time to enjoy the sensation, to relish in the surge of energy, when a knife stabbed him in the side. He grunted at the sharp pain, swinging toward his assailant, a pretty little Virtue in a red gown. Pity.
Luce grabbed her arm, twisting it, pulling the knife straight from her hand. He stabbed her with it, stabbed her straight in the stomach, bringing his own blade down through her back when she hunched over. She exploded in a ball of light, surrounding him, the tingle easing some of the burn from the wound.
Fuck, he hated how slow he healed.
"Michael," he shouted, looking up at the night sky as he fended off another attack, taking a nick to the cheek. "Brother, if there's ever a moment for you to try to intervene in my goddamned existence, this would be it."
He swung around, taking out the winged bastard that had cut him. Another female. He sliced another, swinging around as a second loud pop of static tore through the neighborhood.
Luce's eyes instantly met a pair of familiar ones.
Michael.
"Thank fucking Heavens," Luce groaned.
"I'm not doing this for you," Michael said right away, swinging his sword, taking two out at once.
"I know you're not," Luce said. "I'm just glad you're doing it."
More static rocked the night, more angels appearing. "Reinforcements," Luce muttered. "Beautiful."
There was a pop of static directly to his left, not but a few feet away. He turned, about to throw his knife right at whoever it was, but hesitated with it raised. Another pretty Virtue, but this one he knew. Hannah.
"Not you, too, sunshine," he said. "Tell me you're not one of Abaddon's fools."
She froze, genuinely stunned by the sight, before her face twisted in disgust. "Never."
"Good to know," Luce said, shoving her out of the way to take out an angel behind her. "So what are you doing here?"
"Serah," she said, her voice urgent. "She's in trouble."
Luce nodded, swinging around, throwing his knife halfway across the yard and impaling a burly looking Power right in the forehead. He flicked his wrist and his knife can hurling back, the angel exploding into a cloud of expelled Grace. He turned to Michael, seeing his brother was bogged down. It wasn't a matter of winning or losing. They'd win… no doubt about it. Archangels never lost. It was a matter of battle, of endurance, of taking out the other side.
Michael looked over at him, nodding. "Go."
"You sure about that?"
Just as he said it, another loud pop rocked the street, quaking the ground. More angels appeared, this time Powers sent from above. Luce laughed to himself. His Father had sent help.
"I am now," Michael said, turning his focus to Hannah. "You know how to use a knife, Virtue?"
Hannah nodded. "Samuel taught me long ago."
Michael tossed her a discarded weapon, and she caught it mid-air.
"Don't hold back," he told her. "They won't."
Luce didn't hesitate any more, zapping right out of there and to the old motel. The place was unlocked, the door open, lights on, but nobody was around. Her heartbeat was gone, as was Abaddon. He sought them out, zapping from place to place, city to city, and country to country, going everywhere he sensed Abaddon had gone, until finally… finally… he found him.
