Guild Hunter 01 - Angels' Blood

between monster and not was suddenly far clearer than she’d ever believed. Raphael had somehow remained on one side, Uram on the other. “That was a long time ago,” she replied. “He’s changed.”
    Uram paused, as if thinking. “Yes. Maybe he won’t come. Maybe I’ll leave you here.” His eyes laughed. “Perhaps I’ll tie you to Bobby, let him feed. What do you say, Bobby?” he called out.
    The withered thing on the other side of the room seemed to whisper a response. Elena didn’t hear it but Uram apparently did. It made him laugh so hard that he rocked back on his heels. “I’m delighted to see that you haven’t lost your sense of humor,” he said, chuckling. “I think for that alone, I’ll give you what you want. I’ll put you to the mortal’s breast and let you suckle like a babe.”
    The horrifying image made Elena’s anger turn cold, hard, dangerous. She had no problem with feeding a dying vampire—hell, she was a human being, not a sadistic freak like Uram. But she sure as hell wasn’t going to be tortured to death by a mind Uram had already broken. Using the archangel’s momentary lapse in concentration, she went to reach for the knife in her boot. Her ankle screamed at the small movement but that wasn’t what stopped her.
    The scent of wind, of rain, of the sea. Where are you in the room?
    Opposite the windows, with Uram in front of me. There’s a vampire—starved—on the wall across and to the left of me, next to the window. His name is Robert.
    His life matters little. He enjoys torturing children.
    Then the wall was just gone, sheared away as if by some violent wind. She saw the crackling edge of blue flame ring the hole, heard Uram’s shout of triumph. Rising to his feet, the archangel stared at her. “You’ve served your purpose, brought him here though he’s injured—easy prey.” He drew back a hand and she saw the red fire in it.
    If it touched her, she’d die between one heartbeat and the next.
    So she smirked. “If you’re that confident, kill me afterward. Unless you don’t think you’ll be around for it.”
    He kicked at her shattered ankle, and the pain exploded over her until her mind simply shut down.
     
     
    Raphael hit Uram in the back with a bolt of pure energy as the bloodborn angel, lost in his madness, went to kick Elena a second time. The hit had the intended effect. Screaming in rage, Uram turned, throwing the red angelfire in his hand at Raphael and a second bolt at the ceiling, destroying it to rise into the open air.
    Raphael knew Elena was under the rubble, could still feel the essence of her life though her mind was cloaked in blackness. Live, he ordered again, as he rose to fight an evil that couldn’t be allowed to run unchecked. He was aware of people screaming and running below as fireballs smashed into nearby buildings, bringing things crashing to earth. A car screeched to a halt, then another, then another, all the drivers looking skyward.
    Raphael flew under a bolt, returned the volley, and had the satisfaction of singeing Uram. Bleeding from a cut on his face, the other archangel threw back a firestorm generated by the life energy of stolen blood, and intensified by the toxin that had become fused into his very cells. Once an angel turned to blood, there was no going back.
    “After you are dust,” Uram taunted, flying at Raphael with hands blazing fire, “the city will be mine!”
    Raphael evaded the attack but knew he’d moved a fraction too slow even before he felt the agony of angelfire crawling over his wings.

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    He shot upward, into the clouds, higher than angels were meant to go, until his head ached and the fire died for lack of oxygen. Then he plummeted, using his momentum to launch angelfire at Uram’s body. The Angel of Blood dodged all bolts but one, taking the hit on his thigh.
    Raphael could feel his wings straining as the wounds—both new and old—started to hurt. It wasn’t disabling, not yet. But it would be soon. Uram had gotten enough angelfire onto him that pieces of it had stuck. Those pieces would continue to eat through his flesh until they were dug out. He had less than ten minutes before his wings weakened to the point that he couldn’t fly. Then he felt a tendon snap and remembered.
    He was a little bit human now.
    So be it. He’d rather die a little human, he thought with strange clarity, than become a monster. Elena! Live! He continued to send that order even as his own strength waned