Every extra sense he possessed screamed this was a trap. They both knew it, but there was no other choice. They either did this now or waited until another night. It was going to happen, one way or another.
And he’d never been good at waiting. Would much rather fight than sit home and wonder when his enemies would attack.
What Morrigan didn’t seem to fully understand was that it didn’t matter what happened to her or Kayley. They were nothing more than pawns. Hell, even he wasn’t the main prize. No, this was a pissing contest between Lucifer and Gabriel, between Hell and Heaven.
If he went over the edge and started on a killing spree, both sides would blame the other for his behavior. Then they would work together to bring him down. As soon as they’d accomplished that, they’d turn on one other. He wasn’t even sure whether Gabriel or Lucifer had reasoned things out that far. Lucifer likely had. He was a planner, while Gabriel was more about the now.
Maccus was nothing more than the final piece that would tip the scales and allow for full battle.
The tentative peace that had lasted since the beginning of mankind would be over.
God help them then.
He almost laughed. God hadn’t taken much interest in any of them for a very long time. It was why both angels had gotten bolder. Because he might have been the first fallen, but Lucifer was still very much an angel. A warped version of one, but an angel, nonetheless.
There wasn’t much separating them these days, other than the fact the archangel was sneakier, not actually defying any rules of Heaven. He skated them, he pushed them, but he hadn’t crossed the line. At least not yet.
Hell, his fall didn’t even count as breaking the rules. As his commanding officer, it had been within Gabriel’s right to discipline him. There was no rule to say he couldn’t take Maccus’s wings and push him from Heaven. Only it had never been done before. Certainly hadn’t been done since.
But falling didn’t always mean dying. After all, Lucifer had fallen. But his former friend had always believed him too weak to survive.
Or had he? Maybe he’d thought Maccus too strong, and that had worried him. He’d never quite been sure why Gabriel had turned on him. After a while, it had ceased to matter.
When Morrigan stopped, he did, too. He’d let his mind drift, something he couldn’t afford to do. He slammed his memories back into their vault and shut the door. There was no changing the past.
His heart rate was steady; all his senses were open and receptive. As the landscape and buildings came into better focus, he picked through the various sounds that reached him, cataloging them. The air was redolent with the stench of the city—exhaust, sweat, and garbage mixed with perfumes and the smells from various nearby restaurants.
The gallery was closed, the lights off. Through the glass windows, the bare walls were visible. It was as though there’d never been a showing the night before.
“This is the right place.” Morrigan cupped her hand to her eyes to cut down on the glare from the streetlight and peered inside. “It’s empty. They worked fast.”
He went to the door, grabbed the handle, and pulled. It was locked, but that didn’t stop him. “Shall we?”
“Good idea.” She led the way, and he let her. This was her hunt. Time to take a step back and observe, get the lay of the land before making any plans of his own.
“Even the floors have been cleaned.” She strode boldly from room to room. He followed, allowing his gaze to sweep up and down. People rarely looked up, a failing that often got them killed.
This was too easy. Maccus took a step forward and grabbed her arm, stopping her before she entered the final room, the one farthest from the road, from people and any prying eyes. Another woman might have screamed or demanded to know what he was doing. But Morrigan was a hunter and immediately took a defensive crouch and pulled her weapons, not making a sound.