Velvet Haven

that Suriel had this kind of bond with Mairi. A deep, binding tie that Bran so desperately wanted.
    “What in the hell is going on here?”
    Both of them groaned when they saw Rhys MacDonald and Keir, the Shadow Wraith, at the mouth of the alley.
    “Jesus Christ!” Rhys came running forward, flashlight in hand. “What the fuck?”
    “Do you know her?”
    Rhys glanced at Suriel. “Yeah. She’s a regular. Her name’s Trinity.”
    “I’m afraid Trinity, along with her guardian angel, have gone to meet their Maker.”
    “Christ,” Rhys spat, studying the bodies. “What kind of person would do this? Her skin, there’s no inch of it that hasn’t been carved up.” He whirled around, shining his flashlight on the wraith, who seemed to glow in the artificial light. “This is your dream, man.”
    Keir grimaced and glanced away.
    “What does he mean?” Suriel demanded of the wraith. “She is mortal. You shouldn’t have seen her in any visions.”
    The look Keir shot Suriel was one of pure malice. “Fuck you, Suriel.”
    Bran shot out his arm, halting Keir from coming any closer. “Tell me,” he ordered.
    As a subject of Annwyn, Keir had no choice but to obey his king. With his eyes flashing at Suriel, Keir spoke.
    “I saw this in a divination. There is something evil shifting in both worlds. Can you not feel it?” The Shadow Wraith walked toward them, his gaze intent. “I have seen it in the cards, the rise of a powerful being, the strength to control both mortals and immortals. This is his work.”
    Suriel glanced back at the wall. “Agreed. It is not a mortal we seek but something else. A mortal would never have been able to see, let alone kill, a guardian.”
    “Unless he had help from one of your brothers,” Keir accused. Suriel bared his teeth, and Keir smiled. “Not all of you play the harp and wear halos, Suriel. I know your kind. Don’t forget it.”
    “Enough shit. Shine the light to the left.” Rhys handed Bran the flashlight before striding over to the bodies. Bran illuminated the lower left corner of the wall. “Look at this,” Rhys called.
    Bran held the light steady on the brick where Rhys was pointing. In the middle of it was a pentagram intertwined with the symbol δ.
    Bran hissed. Suriel glanced at him, surprised.
    “You know the symbol?”
    Bran nodded. “It is the symbol for Gwyn, god of the dead, and ruler of the Shadowlands.”
    “Is that your hell?” Suriel demanded.
    Bran nodded.
    “Perhaps in your world he is Gwyn, but in mine this is the angelic mark of Uriel. It was he who was sent to Jesus as he prayed in the Garden of Gethsemane the night before his crucifixion, just before Judas betrayed him. My brothers say that it was Uriel himself who planted the seed in Judas’ mind.”
    “And what relevance would this angel have for us? We do not share your religion or your god.”
    Suriel looked at him, surprised. “Do you not know? Uriel committed sins of the flesh with one of the goddesses of Annwyn.”
    Bran looked at him skeptically, and Suriel’s gaze grew dark. “What? Did you think I was the first with a hard-on for a goddess? No. Uriel beat me to that. He was the Original Sin in Annwyn.”
    Cailleach. Somehow Bran knew it was her. He couldn’t say how; he just felt it.
    “He is known as the Dark Angel,” Suriel continued, “and was banished to hell for his sins. In the Apocalypse of Peter, he is the avenging angel of atonement, and on the Day of Judgment, it is said he will open the gates of hell and lead all sinners to God, then burn them in an eternal fire. It is also said that he knows the identity of the Destroyer, the person who will rain havoc upon the people of the world, destroying it.”
    “The story of Gwyn is much the same. Although in Annwyn, he is known as the Soul Stealer.”
    Suriel’s dark eyes glittered in the light. “He is known by the same name among the mortals who dabble in the occult.”
    “Well, isn’t this fucking wonderful?” Rhys snarled. “And outside my club, too.”
    Suriel glared at Rhys, then dropped to his knees, the ends of his wings dipped in the puddles of the woman’s blood.
    “Oh, shit,” Suriel groaned as his hands worked along the woman’s lifeless body. “The bastard has removed her womb.” Suriel put his fist to his mouth. For a full minute, he knelt beside the woman, just staring at her lifeless face before he quietly murmured, “It’s a message, you know.”
    Bran swallowed hard. He knew what he