Storm of Sin - Patricia D. Eddy Page 0,73

my last chance to send his consciousness to Hell.

I was so trapped in Dion’s fear and my own panic, I didn’t hear the blowtorch turn on again. Didn’t smell the burning ink. I gasp for breath, trying to focus my power, but Regina moves my hair aside and leans closer. “Accept his control, my dear. Let him in and stop fighting.”

The searing pain consumes me. My muscles struggle against the Fae’s compulsion, desperate to thrash, to do something to stop this agony, but my mind floats in a tranquil sea. I can hear myself scream, feel my throat burn.

I was supposed to do something. Something important. Wasn’t I? I had a purpose. A reason I was sent here.

“You are mine now, Zoe Dawes. Mine to control. Mine to own. Mine to use as I see fit. And I have so very many plans for you.”

Thorn's voice fills my thoughts, and I welcome him in. He’s my entire world. I exist only to please him.

Sin

We re-enter the mortal realm outside of Bureau headquarters, and when we reach the bullpen, we’re greeted by complete chaos. Kunchin is yelling at the commander, Amber and the other witches are hunched over a map of the city, pouring all of their magic into scrying for Zoe, and everyone else is on the phone, working their contacts.

“Listen up!” I shout, and all eyes turn to us.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Commander Eve screeches. “It’s been three days, Sinclair! For all we know, Zoe’s dead already, and you’ve been doing God-knows-what with...who the hell is this?”

“The Almighty knows exactly what Sinclair has been doing,” Gabriel replies, a touch of boredom in his tone. His wings unfurl, and a collective gasp comes from the room. “He’s been with me, trying to sort out this mess.”

“And you are?” Eve asks.

Straightening his shoulders, Gabriel arches a brow. “I am the Archangel Gabriel, and we have a great deal of work to do. Zoe Dawes is not human, and she has been given a terrible burden to bear. She is the only one who can stop Thorn, but in order to do so, she must die along with him. If you do not want that to happen, you will all listen up and do exactly as I say.”

“Sinclair?” Commander Eve reaches out and clasps my shoulder, her talons digging into my torn leather coat. “Tell me you didn’t abandon her.”

“Did you not hear me, shifter?” Gabriel says.

I wave him off and meet the commander’s gaze. “I would never abandon Zoe. She and I...we loved one another once. In another life. One she does not remember. But I do, and I will fight for her until I have nothing left to give.”

“And you trust this…archangel?”

My snort earns me a glare from Gabriel, but I ignore him and focus on Eve. “With my life. And Zoe’s. He is an asshole, but he is an honorable one.”

She takes a step back, pursing her lips. “All right, then.” Sweeping her arm to encompass the whole bullpen, she sighs. “Go ahead, Gabriel. Tell us what to do.”

“Sinclair needs to make a phone call. The rest of you? We have to identify at least four—preferably eight—of the worst, depraved, and richest demons in this area and put them under surveillance. The sun sets in what? Three hours?”

Eve nods.

“By then, we must know their whereabouts and be able to take them down on a moment’s notice. Thorn and his minions will move the women to another location this evening. Once there, he will collect exorbitant sums of money from a small group of these demons and let them terrorize his victims until dawn. Then, he will return to his heavily warded stronghold. If we do not find them tonight, the chances of rescuing any of them alive diminish greatly.”

I cannot stand to hear him speak so dispassionately of Zoe’s suffering, so I head for Eve’s office and shut the door. The conversation I need to have now requires privacy.

“Sin?” Mad’s sleepy voice is full of concern. “It’s the middle of the bloody night. What’s wrong?”

“I need you, brother. You and your witch.”

“Warlock,” Killian slurs, clearly listening in. Of course. They’re in bed together.

“Fine. Warlock,” I say. “Get here in the next three hours, and Killian can call himself whatever he wants. Lord of all magic? King of the witches? Ruler of all creation? I do not give a fuck.“

Sheets rustle, and Killian groans as Mad says, “Hang on, Sin.”

I do, for all of two minutes, pacing the