Court of Sunder (Age of Angels #2) - Milana Jacks Page 0,17

he would ask too much, the Exile would become a breeding ground for his Marked army. I couldn’t allow this. Thousands of mortals and angels alike hid here.

The patrons noticed my hovering figure and raised their heads, some tinkering with their weapons, one even taking out a dagger to clean his nails. Mary Ann poured me a drink, and I approached the bar and sat at it. That got everyone’s attention. I chugged the bourbon. Cheap and nasty.

“Lucifer will take you,” I said, and the mention of his name got some of their blood pumping. My blood stirred as well. “Some, if not most of you have families inside Sunder City and many other cities in the Court.”

A man wearing a tall hat with some sort of emblem on it stood from a table that seated five men. They all wore the emblem on their clothes. Bandits united.

“What of our families?” he asked.

“When Lucifer comes, he will mark you all and return you to your former homes, where you will do his bidding. If he’s in a good mood, he will spare the children, but with Michael on his heels, I doubt he’ll feel generous.”

The man spat. “Lucifer won’t come. We heard Lord Raphael has escaped the commander’s keep. When he returns, there’ll be hell to pay. He’s gonna splatter that bitch Ariel all over the Court. Her bones will bring us fortunes.” He picked up the coins and jingled them in his fist.

“You seem loyal to your lord.”

“And you seem loyal to the commander. Don’t think I didn’t see you come in with one of his soldiers.”

“I strongly recommend you unsee that.” I snatched away his vision, then waited while he stood there, hands extended, feeling blindly the space in front of him. His fear, fresh in the air, was akin to the scent of the finest roses in my vast gardens. I released the man.

He staggered back, then fell to his knees. “My Lord.”

“Now we’re talking. I could throw you all into dungeons for the various crimes you’ve committed.”

“But you won’t,” a woman said as she removed her hat. Abundant black hair spilled over her shoulders.

I smiled. “I won’t. I need a strong mortal army.”

“You pay me, and I’ll fight for you, Lord,” she said.

“Pay you?”

“Loyalty won’t feed me when the people I work with trade in coin.” She flipped one and tossed it to me.

I caught the bit of metal and examined it. The head of a dragon on one side, a sword on the other. Heads or tails. Lucifer or Michael. “This is from the Veil. You’d be wise to bury it somewhere. I offer you eternal youth. I will preserve your bodies as they are now for the remainder of your days. When you fight for me, you will heal more quickly. You will become faster, stronger.”

There was whispering and confused looks as the mortals processed my offer. It wasn’t something they could process, because eternal youth hadn’t ever existed for mortals in the realm. Until now.

“How long will eternal youth last?” the male with the hat asked before he sat back in his chair.

“As long as you can survive.”

“Forever?”

“If you can survive that long, yes.”

“You’re offering immortality?” At the prospect, his blue eyes positively shone.

“I offer eternal youth.” Immortality and eternal youth weren’t the same thing. An immortal couldn’t die. Only Father could deal out immortality, not me, but they didn’t need to know that.

“What’s the catch?” the woman asked.

“There is no catch,” I lied. “You can become Marked or you can become something else. The question is not what, the question is if you trust your lord with your life. Most loyal mortals do. Are you loyal?” I flipped the coin she tossed me. Loyalty to one’s Court was currency. The poor were the ones who showed no loyalty. “I offer you a second chance. There will be none like it offered to others. I assure you, this is a unique proposition for a unique set of circumstances.”

The woman raised her hand. “Got nothing to lose, my lord. I’m in. Whatever it is.” She looked around. “Really? Nobody else?”

“And me,” the man in the hat said. “I would rather die than become Marked. So whatever this is, it can’t be worse.”

Bad and worse were a matter of perspective. “Deal.” I checked the time. Half an hour had already passed. Hopping off the barstool, I nodded at Mary Ann, who shook her head, telling me she refused my offer. I would be sorry when