Free Samael by Heather Killough-Walden Page A

sound, like a gentle scratching at his mental door. It was so soft, so quiet, he was uncertain whether he’d heard it right. He told the universe to shut the fuck up. So he could try to hear it again.
    Everything around him was cast into absolute silence, as if a blast had gone off and there was that ringing afterward and nothing else. Except even the ringing was absent. Silence obeyed him. Like the darkness did.
    Az…
    He hit the ground, on his knees faster than any man had ever knelt, and his hand lifted her head. I’m here. I’m here! Open your eyes for me, Sunshine.
    Like the morning star rising at last on a long, soul-crushing night, Sophie’s eyelids parted, and gold peeked out. The world and everything it consisted of came crashing back into existence. Sound was allowed to resume once more. Movement recommenced.
    There was entropy, to be sure. But it was over there .
    Right here , there was one single thing that made sense. Sophie was alive. And she was his. And the universe could go on existing for now.
     

Chapter Thirteen
    Max could scarcely believe what he was seeing when he came upon the scene near the back fence surrounding the outer circle of the Valley of Shadow concert venue. The images would be forever burned upon his mind, and the cold, terrible dread and nausea that had claimed his gut would never be forgotten either.
    But at least now he knew. Now he knew just how far one of his boys would go to protect the woman he loved.
    The dead man had once been the “right hand” of Samael. Jason. That had been his name. At least, Max was fairly certain it had been him. What there was left of him was rather hard to mentally piece together. But one of the eyes was still there in the head that had been removed from its body, and it was a vivid blue. The body itself had been pushed through the chain link fence, like meat through a grinder.
    The illusion on stage had vanished, the crowd was in disarray, and Azrael’s loyal, trained vampires had instinctively mobilized to overpower mortal minds, calm the situation, and erase memories of anything that might have been witnessed.
    But the damage had been done, and the archangels were a band of confused men and women that he knew he had to somehow guide, somehow protect, and somehow give answers to. The questions would surely be coming soon enough.
    Michael and Rhiannon were even there. They’d either heard Sophie’s call or felt the unrest with their brethren and come running back from New York.
    “Why didn’t he hear her sooner?” Juliette breathed, shock making her face paper white.
    Max shook his head. “Interference maybe. Or Gregori.”
    “I did warn you.”
    Everyone – Max, Gabriel, Juliette, Uriel, Eleanore, Azrael, Michael and Rhiannon – either turned around or looked up. None of them had been aware of the man’s approach. They should have been. The ground was covering itself in black dandelions. They were sprouting up around the blood, through the mud, and into full bloom like fast-forwarded time-lapse photography. There was a vibration to the air that made Max’s teeth feel like they were buzzing and his gut feel like it was churning. He had an instant headache.
    But the man in white stood amongst them, calm and still, a tower of pale evil wrapped in serenity that was a lie.
    He looked at Azrael, who knelt in the mud with Sophie laying against his legs. “Now you know. Samael will stop at nothing to win his archess, even going so far as to dismantle the archangels by sending his minions after your mates.”
    Max had no idea what he was talking about as far as the “warning” was concerned, and he planned to speak with Azrael about that as soon as possible. But as far as Sam sending people after the archesses went? It didn’t look good. It was Jason who’d been responsible for this attack, after all, and the former incubi wasn’t known for his discretions. It was possible Gregori was right. Was Sam trying to get them out of the way? Was he