Wings of the Wicked - By Courtney Allison Moulton Page 0,124

holding him, and he shook his head. “Liar,” he said faintly, his voice trembling. “Don’t do this to me. Don’t tell me this.”

“I’m not lying,” Bastian said, his voice softer now. “She’s alive.”

“My mother is dead,” Will rasped. “I haven’t seen her for centuries. If she were alive, she would have come to me, let me know she was alive. She wouldn’t let me think I’d lost her.”

Bastian’s gaze was sympathetic, and his voice was kind. “She’s a relic guardian, William, like you. She had to give up everything for her mission, just as you did. She would be proud of you, as I am, of your power. Those of my line are all abnormally powerful, because each of us is very ancient and our blood is among the purest of our race, the closest to the divine source we were bred from. There are not many of us. You should be grateful.”

“You’re not my father,” Will murmured. “You can’t be my father. I could never be grateful for anything from you.”

“Why do you reject this knowledge?” Bastian pressed. “Do you refuse to believe that Michael would choose a half-demonic angelic reaper to be the Guardian of the mortal Gabriel? Do you fear the idea that there is something more to being either angelic or demonic—that birthright isn’t everything?”

“You tortured me!” Will shouted, his pain obvious through his broken voice. “You held me for days and beat me until I nearly died, then let me heal and beat me nearly to death again! Over and over and over for days! And then you ordered that monster, Ragnuk, to kill her and dump her in front of me? How could you do that to me if I’m your son?”

Bastian’s gaze was cool and heavy with regret. “I didn’t know you were my son then.”

Will shook his head, disgusted. “And that makes it okay to torture someone who isn’t your child? The only reason you’re sorry for what you did to me is because you believe I’m your son?”

“I suppose that’s true.” There was no shame on Bastian’s face.

“Then that settles it,” Will said, choking. “You couldn’t be my father. You say there is no difference between the angelic and demonic, but you’re so wrong. I would never have done anything like that to anyone, not even to my enemies—not even to you. I could never be capable of any of the horrors you’re guilty of.”

“I see now that you’re more like your mother,” Bastian said. “Madeleine is an astounding creature—your eyes are startlingly just like hers—but make no mistake, you get your strength from me.”

“No!” Will roared, and his power detonated, slamming into the floor and walls all around us. The force blasted into Merodach and Kelaeno, who could only release him and shield themselves. It hit like a tidal wave, crashing over me and sucking me under. I gasped for breath, squeezing my eyes shut as I was battered against my bindings.

I opened my eyes to see Will rushing toward me. He slid to a stop at my feet, raised his fist high over his head, and with a terrible cry, he slammed his fist into the stone floor with a rush of power. The stone cracked and heaved before sinking, shattering the pentagram trapping me. In an instant, I felt my own strength, now free, rush through me, rejuvenating me, and I snapped the chains around my arms with ease. Will rose, his green eyes staring into mine, and I was so overcome with emotion that I was shaking. Before I could say anything to him, he held my face with both his hands, and he kissed me for a single, powerful moment before he broke away.

“Ava and Marcus are on their way,” he said breathlessly, breaking apart the manacles around my wrists. “I couldn’t wait for them, and we can’t wait for them now. We’ve got to get out of here. We’ll die if we try to fight them all at once.”

“Will!” I gasped as I saw that Merodach had recovered and was now stomping toward us.

Will spun, calling his sword as he brought his arm up high into a fluid arc, connecting his blade with Merodach’s. Will roared, and his power exploded again, blasting into Merodach, forcing him to stagger back. Merodach let out a howl of rage, and they clashed in a fury of flying blades. For them, this had grown to more than just enemies battling on either side of a war. This was now