Free Bloody Valentine by Melissa de La Cruz Page B

The Venator that led this army had been nothing more than a foot soldier in the celestial army Jack had commanded long ago.
    This was going to be too easy, really. He began the transformation into his true form, calling up the immortal spirit that was housed in his blood for time immemorial. Abbadon, the Unlikely. Angel of the Apocalypse. Destroyer of Worlds.
    But nothing happened. No dark wings sprouted from his back, no horns grew on his forehead, he was without the strength of a million demons coursing through his veins. He remained Jack Force. Just another eighteen-year-old boy.
    Ah.
    So that was their game.
    He had guessed as much, the moment Schuyler had drawn those two circles on his palm. Had seen her hands shake as she had put the ring on his finger. They had placed a cursed bonding spell on them, to limit his powers. To stop him from turning into Abbadon. Held back by the love she felt for him. He had noticed that telltale stone around her neck, disguised as a pendant. They were watching, they were waiting. This is what they wanted him to do. They wanted him weak and vulnerable, bereft of his immortal power.
    “Something wrong, Abbadon?” the Venator sneered. “Where is your strength now?”
    Jack sighed. “Do you truly believe that brute force is my only weapon? That after centuries of rule in Heaven, I wield no power but my own sword?”
    The Venator smirked. “What other power could you possibly still have? After today, they will call you Abbadon the Weak.”
    In reply, Jack spoke a small incantation, a prayer that only he could fashion. The glom darkened considerably, and from the fatal blackness arose the creatures of the Underworld, the Black Fire elementals at his command, as one of the First Born, an Angel of the Dark, captain of the lost and withering souls of Hell.
    Abbadon might be chained, but Jack still carried his spirit, and the primal creatures bowed to their master. He screamed as he drove his dark army into battle. How ironic that stripped of his power to transform, only then did he recall the breadth and depth of the darkness that had molded him. For too long he had not made use of the powers of the Dark, had not tapped into the deep, hidden strength of the Underworld where he had been made and his name forged in fire and death.
    The dark creatures overpowered the Venators in strength and number. Jack pitied the Truth Seekers until he remembered Schuyler’s anguished face from earlier that evening. The Countess had brought death and bloodshed to their bonding. That could not be helped now. He only hoped Schuyler had been able to carry out her part of the plan, that she and her friends were safe.
    Jack looked down at the band of steel that was wrapped around his finger, dull and ordinary, even as its dark magic glowed with a fiery treachery.

F IVE

Rescue Party

    S chuyler shivered as Jack disappeared into the glom. He would be vulnerable in the glom, just as the Venators had wanted. What would become of him? She had to trust that he would be fine. That he could take care of himself, and that he had understood what she could not tell him.
    Before they had set off, Jack had asked her to believe in him and follow their plan. He would draw all the Venators to the glom and take care of them there while she and Bliss freed Oliver. Jack had been clear about one thing: whatever happened, she had to trust him. Even if something happened that she did not understand. He had asked her to promise, and she had agreed.
    “Ready?” she asked Bliss, looking up at the ceiling.
    “Are you sure you can do this?” Bliss asked, looking doubtfully at the thick planks.
    Schuyler thought back to her earlier encounter with the Venator. She had not known the full strength of her sword until the moment she had nearly hacked apart the entire roof structure without so much as breaking a sweat. “I think I can make a little hole in the floor.” She smiled as she raised her sword to the floorboards above.
    The blade