Lucca Page 19

  He lifted his shoulder in a shrug. “Why not? The Watchers have proven it possible.”

  He let out a loose breath in disbelief. “Your uncle was a pure blood Angel. Was he all warm and cozy with you?”

  Blaize looked him over, his brows furrowing over the bridge of his nose. “Just because your father and my uncle were right pricks, doesn’t mean all Angels are.”

  Lucca looked away, his hand balled into a fist. “My father didn’t have a compassionate bone in his body.” His fangs lengthened as thoughts of his father resurfaced. “He could give Lucifer a few pointers on breaking someone’s…”

  “Soul,” Blaize finished and Lucca met his gaze.

  Lucca battled with his emotions, his eyes watering with frustration and betrayal for what he endured at the hand of his father, but he wouldn’t let the emotions spill out. “We. Do. Not. Have. A. Soul,” he bit out each word. Screw what Eli thought or what the elders hoped to prove.

  Blaize shook his head. “I think you’re wrong. Some just choose to ignore it. I have demon blood in me and there are times the aggressive side of me wants to lash out without care, but my mother taught me how to control those urges.” His lips were blade thin as he pursed them together. He looked at Lucca with a heavy sigh.

  Lucca groaned. Even after all these centuries he knew the look. Blaize was going to continue his heart to heart. It must be the poet in him. He did have hit ballads on the airways. “You asked about my father,” Blaize said. “Yes, he was an Angel and he cared for my sister and me. He loved us and he loved my mother.”

  Lucca shook his head. He didn’t want to hear it. “Stop.”

  “My father knew your father?”

  He narrowed his eyes on him. “I said I didn’t want to hear any more.”

  “My father was the physician who treated you after Arizul nearly beat you to death.”

  Lucca backed away shaking his head. “You lie.” But he did know. The first few days after the beating he’d been in and out of consciousness. He was vaguely aware of a male, his kindness and hopeful words, but when he finally awakened he was in the care of another. The new doctor hadn’t been unkind, but he knew it wasn’t the male who encouraged him to live.

  “I’m not lying. You should have heard my father after he saw what had been done to you. He wanted to kill Arizul.”

  Tears burned Lucca’s eyes as he sunk down to the ground, but the tears were of anger not of self-pity. “Why didn’t he?”

  Blaize walked over to him and knelt down beside him. “Because the Grigori would have retaliated. They would have come after us. My father couldn’t risk it. The Grigori frowned upon demon and Angel marriages and they would use any excuse to eliminate them.”

  Lucca knew the Grigori’s thoughts of mixed marriages with demons, but the knowledge didn’t excuse Blaize’s father. Blaize’s father knew what had been done to him, must have known what he endured, but the good doctor just nursed him back to health and sent him home for more abuse.

  “My father couldn’t take you away, but he did manage to pass a law through the right channels, forbidding the Fallen from abusing their offspring. If caught using excessive force, it was punishable by death. The elders agreed to it after…”

  Lucca glared at him. “After what?” he snapped.

  “After they saw the visual imprints my father took of you.”

  His raw chuckle made Blaize flinch. “My humiliation is complete or is there more you’d like to share with me.” He rose to his feet in one fluid move.

  Blaize came to his feet, too. “My father saved your life.”

  “You think so?” What Blaize claimed rang true, but how could Lucca forgive them for handing him back to Arizul. “My father just didn’t beat me to a bloody pulp, you know. Mental abuse can be more damaging than physical blows. Life with my father was a living hell,” he growled, his fangs biting into his lips. “You just confessed your father and the rest of the Grigori left me in hell.”

  Blaize had the decency to look abashed. “What happened to you sucked.”

  Lucca hissed his harrumph, ending it with a growl, warning Blaize he had met his limit of control. What Blaize said now would determine if this conversation ended with fists.

  Blaize met his gaze again. Lucca had to give him credit. The Darklin didn’t flinch or back down. “You’re a better male than your father, but you have to believe it. All I’m saying is find out who the humans are before you serve them up on a platter.”

  A better male than his father, isn’t that what he’d been trying to be since he broke free of him? Better, didn’t mean he had to befriend humans and worry about their demise. He survived by never becoming too close to a human. Becoming close caused heartache and he didn’t need or want it. “I haven’t harmed anyone who didn’t deserve to be pummeled.” Eli didn’t count since at the time he had believed his actions were justified. It all worked itself out in the end anyway. “Humans die.” He met Blaize’s gaze. "They’re a weaker species. What do I care if they live fifty years or a few days? Let the Archangels do what they want. I’m staying out of their business.”

  “You were friends with Will. You were friends with Kit.” Blaize just couldn’t let it go.

  He inhaled deeply, drawing in a rugged breath. “Yeah, a waste of my time.”

  Blaize swore under his breath. “That’s why you dragged me down to the pub that night to try and save Kit.”

  He whirled on him. “Kit Marlowe didn’t know when to keep his mouth shut. Obviously, he had something in common with you. I’ll have to remember that flaw the next time I feel inclined to choose a—” The word he was about to spew lodged in his throat.

  “Say it,” Blaize demanded. “Say it. Friend. You were going to say friend. Kit Marlowe was your friend. That’s what friends do, they look out for one another, and you try to save them when they’re too stupid to realize the danger. You wanted to save Kit.”

  “You don’t know a damn thing.” Lucca pounded his hand into the side of the bookcase. The wood shuddered, the vibration growing louder. “What the…” He backed up a step as the case opened, revealing a hidden compartment. Blaize came to stand by Lucca as he helped pull the case open further. “Bingo,” Lucca said as he stared at the two books he’d been looking for, sitting side by side on a shelf.

  “I can maybe understand why the Book of Raziel is hidden well, but why is the Tomes of Nasarm so important?”

  Lucca shrugged. “How should I know? I thought we established my father wasn’t the warm and cozy, feely type. He never revealed his reasons for what was kept in the Vault. I’m just glad he chose to keep both books together. Saves me time. Now I can get Kordon off my back, too.”

  Blaize shook his head. “You have no problem handing both books over to beings that would sooner see you dead than give you the time of day.”

  Lucca shoved him aside, reaching for the books in question. As he lifted them off the shelf, he knew he’d made a mistake. “Shit.” He threw himself at Blaize, sending the Darklin flying backward out of the hidden room as spikes came barreling down like a hailstorm with a deadly aim.

  The books flew out of his hands, sliding across the floor, slamming into a vase that tumbled over, rolling down toward the cabinet with the display of weapons. Lucca leapt to his feet with a curse and flung himself toward the vase, grabbing it just inches before it fell against the cabinet. He breathed a sigh of relief and looked up to see Blaize frowning down at him. It was then the pain registered. His gaze landed on the protruding spike in his calf.

  Blaize crouched down next to him. “Seriously, what else is booby trapped down here?” His large hand gripped the spike and he yanked out the offensive weapon.

  Lucca grimaced, holding back the scream choking him. Blood soaked his jeans and his leg throbbed as if it somehow created its own heartbeat to go with the blinding pain.

  Blaize ripped the thick material aside as if it were no more than a paper towel so he could have a look at the damage. He held his hand over th
e wound, light radiated from his palm, sending warmth throughout his limb.

  Blaize’s healing powers were phenomenal, but they hadn’t been enough to save Kit Marlowe that night. They had been too late.

  Blaize met his gaze then as if he read his thoughts. “I can’t heal all wounds. You know that.”

  Lucca nodded. “I know.” His voice sounded raw like an open wound that wouldn’t heal. “I know,” he said with more meaning this time. He lost a friend that night, but so had Blaize. He never considered Blaize’s loss until now.

  He placed the vase down beside him. Blaize stood and offered his hand. Lucca grabbed a hold, allowing Blazie to pull him to a standing position. He stepped gingerly on his foot expecting residual pain, but his leg felt good as new. “Thanks.” And meant it. “We should get out of here before we end up as one of the artifacts.”

  “You don’t have to ask me twice.”

  Lucca bent down to retrieve the books.

  Clap…clap… clap

  The slow rhythm of two hands slapping together drew their attention to the door.

  “Bloody hell,” Blaize cursed.

  Lucca’s body went rigid and he felt the blood drain from his face. “Father?”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  “Son.” Arizul held out his arms as if expecting Lucca to welcome his embrace. When Lucca made no move, he let his arms drop. “What? No hug for your father.” Arizul’s dark gaze landed on the books Lucca held in his arms. “You plan on doing a little light reading?”

  “Just let us pass.” Lucca’s voice lost some of its usual deep timber as if Arizul castrated him with just one look.

  “You haven’t changed, have you?” His father shook his head. “You’re still the pansy arse, thinking you can whine your way out of tough spots. I’ll have to give you credit. It took me a while to figure out you’d replaced the key with a fake. I never figured you’d have the balls to defy me, but then you did run away, didn’t you?” He waved his hand at him, palm up. “Give it over. Give me the books. They don’t belong to you. If you hand them over, I’ll forgive your rash decision to steal the key.

  Lucca held the books tighter, his knuckles turning white. No wonder his father had been shadowing him and not making contact. His father knew he’d never hand over the key willingly. “You sent Kordon to pressure me, didn’t you?”

  Arizul shrugged. “You made it easy for me. You owed the Hashasheen the books and you failed to pay them. Kordon owed me a favor. You see where this is going. Now, I’ll ask you one more time. Give me the books.”

  “I don’t believe I will.” His eyes narrowed as he met his father’s gaze. He hadn’t laid eyes on Arizul since Kit Marlowe’s death. The death his father had orchestrated.

  His father was a purebred Angel and they were all but immortal as he was, but it didn’t look like the years had been kind to Arizul. Dark shadows haloed his once vibrant blue eyes. His wheat colored hair had lost its sheen and lay limp on his shoulders. Where had his father been holing up all this time?

  Arizul moved forward, eyeing Blaize then his son again. “Blaize, you may go. My quarrel isn’t with you.”

  Lucca didn’t dare glance at Blaize. God knew he didn’t want the Darklin to leave his side, but his father would kill him if he stayed. Someone had to take the books out of here. Lucca knew he couldn’t. Then he remembered something and hoped Blaize recalled it, too. “Yes, you should go.”

  “What the…” Blaize stuttered. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “The poet’s waiting for you.” Lucca thrust the books into Blaize’s hands, hoping he took his meaning and shimmered out of here. Blaize’s deep violet eyes met his.

  “Oh, hellfire.” Blaize gripped the books, blasting the room with magic as he disappeared.

  “Noooo!” Arizul shook his fisted hand above him, his fury made the veins in his large neck protrude like blue tubes ready to explode.

  Blaize was good. He didn’t leave a signature trail for his father to follow him.

  His father turned his heated gaze on Lucca now, advancing toward him with his fists balled, ready to lay into him. “You’ll wish you were never born once I’m through with you.”

  Lucca wanted to laugh. He had thought that many times as a youth. Lucca took a deep breath and waited. He wasn’t the cowering child or the young and naïve youth who still wished to win his father’s approval. He’d fight back. He may not be a match for a full-fledged Angel and without his full strength, but he would go down fighting.

  However, before Arizul could reach him, Blaize reappeared behind his father. His fangs lengthened as he took on his full strength. He grabbed the vase Lucca had discarded and plowed it into the side of his father’s head. Arizul staggered, but stayed on his feet. The vase rolled away, but it was cracked, the line growing longer as the vase rumbled on the floor. The vibration grew louder as something forced its way out.

  Arizul howled and whirled on Blaize. “You imbecile. You’ve released the Banshees.” As if the announcement encouraged the beings, the wailing ghostlike entities broke free. They swarmed around the room, diving for them with outstretched hands.

  Blaize cursed and dove for the door. Lucca made his move, hitting the ground as if he were sliding into home plate, sliding past his father. He leapt to his feet and dove for the door, too.

  “Don’t you dare leave me, Lucca,” his father wailed, beating off the Banshee that pulled at his hair. His father was many things, but a helpless old man wasn’t one of them. Lucca ignored his plea for help. His father could rot where he stood as far as he was concerned.

  Outside the vault he leveled his gaze at Blaize. “I thought perhaps you’d forgotten our code word for the disappearing act.”

  Blaize chuckled. “Heck, no. Those practical joke days still make me snicker.”

  Together, they whirled on the door, shoving it into place, blocking out the screams of the Banshees and his father’s wails as he beat them off. Lucca withdrew the key, locking the door. “That will only hold him so long,” Lucca said, not truly believing the Banshees would kill his father so readily. He had a hunch his father would find a way out of the Vault, too. He designed it after all.

  “Let’s get out of here then.” Blaize picked up the books sitting against the wall where he had left them. “I believe these are yours.” He handed the books to Lucca. “I’ll erase our tracks as we go so your father won’t be able to trail us. It’ll at least buy us some time before he comes gunning for us.”

  They took off running down the passageway. They halted at a ditch, where the floor remained open. “My father had to come this way.” He pointed. The space between the two walls was too small to spread wings and fly over. There had to be another way. “There.” Lucca pointed to the right of them. The ledge was narrow against the wall, but it had to be how his father followed them. He frowned, wondering why neither one of them had sensed him? How had Arizul slithered around unnoticed?

  “After you,” Blaize told him with a bow.

  Lucca tucked one of the books into the waistband of his jeans and handed the other one to Blaize.

  Blaize grumbled as he grabbed it, but he followed suit, tucking the book into the waistband of his leather pants, a tight fit, but this insured the book wouldn’t fall into the pit below.

  The way was slow, but they managed. Once on the other side, they jogged the rest of the way, sliding to a halt outside the cave. Lucca shoved the stone with Blaize’s help, pushing it back in place. Then Blaize gripped Lucca’s shoulders and shimmered out of there and back to the human realm.

  Blaize pulled away, catching his breath. He withdrew the book and handed it to Lucca as he bent at the waist, gripping his knees. He had taxed himself, using the glamour to its limit.

  “Are you going to be okay?” Lucca asked, truly concerned.

  “I’ll be fine. Just give me a second.” He looked up at him. “Where do you plan on hiding the books? Arizul will eventually find a way out of the Vault and if his showing up was an indic
ation, he’ll want those back.”

  “I have a place in mind. One even the Archangels and the Hashasheens won’t think of looking.”

  “Jesus, Lucca, is there anyone who doesn’t want to flay you alive?”

  He gave him a sheepish grin. “What can I say? I’m a popular guy.”

  “Hmm...” He straightened, standing at his full height. “How do you suppose Arizul knew we’d be there?”

  “I felt my father’s presence a few days ago, but he didn’t make contact.” He shook his head. “I didn’t sense him when we crossed the veil. Maybe there’s a silent alarm attached to the Vault’s door.” His frown deepened.

  “Those books mean something.” Blaize nodded toward them. “First the Archangels and now your father is trying to get his hands on them. What are we missing?”

  Lucca shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  Blaize’s wings spread wide. “My advice to you is to find out.” Without waiting for Lucca to reply, he flapped his wings and took flight.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  The continual rap tap-tap on the door could only be one person. Lucca grumbled a protest as he rolled out of bed. He grabbed his jeans and yanked them on. Now the doorbell buzzed. He opened his dresser drawer and took out a T-shirt. He put it on as he entered the living room. He brushed his hand over his face in hopes of erasing sleep from his mind before opening the door.

  Tiger Lilly raced in first followed by Owen, his moonbeam colored hair sticking up on end, but he was dressed in jeans and a brown Henley shirt. He carried milk with him and a spoon.

  “Come on in,” Lucca grumbled. He followed his guests into the kitchen where Tiger Lilly made herself at home at the end of the table, cleaning her paws with tiny licks from her tongue.

  Owen sat down at the table. “I brought some milk.”

  “I’ve noticed.” Lucca would like to say he resented the boy intruding on his life, but he found the morning ritual enjoyable. He opened the cupboard and pulled down the cereal box, pouring two generous bowls of the sugary substance. He grabbed another saucer and emptied a can of cat food into another bowl he purchased at the pet store the other day for Tiger Lilly. He told himself he hated having the darn cat stare at him as he ate. So the purchase was made. They all had their own bowls to attend to now.