Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 109033 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 545(@200wpm)___ 436(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109033 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 545(@200wpm)___ 436(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
“Lord above, you are a bunch of nutcases.” The fact was that “holy” didn’t always equate to “good”, just as “demonic” didn’t automatically make a person evil. But she didn’t suppose he’d be willing to listen to reason.
Naomi telepathically reached out to her Prime. Hey, Jolene, hope you’re not busy. I have a cleric here who you might want to meet. She gave the woman her exact location.
Returning her attention to Adrian, she tilted her head. “Tell me more about the messenger who gave you these swords.”
He squeezed his eyes shut, his cheeks turning mottled. “No. No, I can’t.”
“Oh, you can. And you really, really should.”
Ciaran materialized a few feet away with Jolene.
The Prime swept her gaze around, taking in the burning corpses. “Good Christ. I suppose it was too much to hope that all the clerics on your ass were dead.” She grinned at Adrian. “Hello there. You must be one of these idiots who think Naomi here will pop out the Antichrist at some point. Well, you should know that I’m even crazier than you are—and that’s saying something. Taking that into consideration, it would be best for you to answer any questions we might have. And I have quite a few.”
“As do I,” said Naomi. “He was just about to tell me about the person from whom they received their swords. What is the messenger’s name?” she pressed.
“I . . . I . . .” Adrian trailed off, his eyes rolling back into his head, his body trembling. All of a sudden, his legs gave out, he dropped to his knees and slumped forward, face-planting on the ground.
He didn’t get up. Or moan in pain. Or move even an inch.
The fuck?
Naomi waved a hand, extinguishing the snakes and flames. “Is he all right?”
Ciaran squatted beside the cleric and checked his pulse. “No, he’s dead,” he said with some astonishment.
Naomi felt her lips part. “You’re kidding. How can he be dead? I didn’t have the snakes bite him, just scare him.” Her demon’s shoulders sagged at the anticlimactic feel to the moment.
“Not sure how it happened, but he’s a goner.” Ciaran rose to his feet. “It was like his body just . . . gave out.”
“Like he died from being asked a question,” mused Jolene, her eyes squinty.
Naomi blinked. “How is that possible?”
“You’ve heard of preternaturals who can program a person’s brain and body to self-destruct in the event of particular triggers such as phrases or questions, right?” asked Jolene.
Naomi felt her brows slide together. “You think that’s the case here?”
“It’s possible.” Jolene took a suspicious look around. “I think we should get out of here and finish this conversation in private.”
“I agree,” Naomi told her. “Just let me clean up my mess.”
All business, she used her fire to ensure that every trace of the clerics was gone, blades and all. Ciaran then teleported the three of them to her living area.
Slumping into her armchair, Naomi sank a hand into her hair. “What a fucking night.”
Jolene shot her a look of disappointment. “You should have reached out when the clerics first showed up.”
Naomi winced. “I was in a bad mood after that crap with Iain earlier. I wanted an outlet for my anger.”
“Understandable, I suppose,” Jolene grudgingly conceded. “I can still wish that you’d requested backup.” She paused, taking a seat on the sofa. “I’ve telepathically contacted your mother, Alfie, and Beck. They will be here soon.”
“Khloë’s on a weekend break with Keenan,” said Ciaran, standing near the fireplace, “so I’d rather just tell her about this tomorrow.”
“That’s fine.” Naomi tried telepathing Tobe, but it was like hitting a psychic wall. She sighed. “Tobe seems to have shut a mental door, because my attempts to contact him aren’t working.”
Ciaran’s gaze turned inward, and then he said, “Nor are mine.”
Naomi looked from him to Jolene. “Am I the only one thinking that whoever put a trigger in the cleric’s mind also gave him his sword?”
“No, that would be my guess as well,” said Jolene. “Dark practitioners have been known to use such things.”
“Get this: the cleric said that the person who brought the blades to the monkhood was one of God’s messengers; that he came on behalf of God himself. And the more I ponder on that, the more I wonder if the messenger is a dark practitioner posing as an angel.”
Ciaran blinked, his head jerking back. “An angel?”
“It was the tone of voice the cleric used as he spoke of him. There was awe and reverence there.” It tweaked Naomi’s radar.
Ciaran squinted. “Could a dark practitioner pull something like that off, Grams?”
“If he was powerful enough, yes,” replied Jolene.
“I might have wondered if the ‘he’ they talked of is an actual angel, but no way would the Uppers make their current situation worse.” After Uppers had targeted Ella and her baby for death merely due to a dislike of her breeding with a fallen celestial, they had earned themselves the wrath of every demon. They had called home all earth-bound angels for fear that demons would hurt them in lieu of those responsible for the attacks on Ella.