saw some wicked-looking knives on his bandolier that I bet were custom-made and customized for hunting supernatural prey.
Teag and I wore thin bullet-proof vests under our clothing, with protective woven vests beneath them. With luck, that would protect us from direct hits both mundane and magical, although no one sells ‘anti-Nephilim’ rated body armor, even on the Darke Web. We looked. The stitches in my arm were wrapped up with gauze and padding. Sorren had shown up with shirts for both of us that were supposed to be made out of a ‘cut-proof’ fabric. That might reduce the damage from a knife, but I was willing to bet it hadn’t been tried against fallen angel claws.
I had one of Josiah Winfield’s dueling pistols, and Teag had the other, and we both had enough ammunition to get in a couple of shots. Bo’s collar was on my left hand, and Bo had been beside me since we reached the Angel Oak, waiting until he was needed to bite one of the Nephilim on its ass. I had Alard’s walking stick hanging from a strap on the left side of my utility belt, and my athame up my sleeve in a wrist holster. The chakram hung on my right side. In my pockets, I’d stashed my Norse spindle whorl to amplify my magic, packets of salt and a couple of other protective charms, and I was wearing my agate necklace.
Teag had his battle staff, a couple of knotted ropes to replenish his magic, and his espada y daga, a dagger and sword set. He had extra daggers in a bandolier, and the silver-edged urumi whip sword coiled in and hanging from a strap at his belt. He wore his agimat and hamsa charms, and in a pouch on his back, he had two new weapons, the battle net from the Briggs Society and a second net he had woven himself. Teag’s version was knotted with magic and soaked in colloidal silver.
We each had one more, new weapon. The day after I had gotten out of the hospital, Teag and I found a package from the Briggs Society that contained two unusual-looking weapons that were a cross between a knife and a pair of brass knuckles. The note with them just said, ‘Best, Archibald’.
Sorren made an initial walk around the perimeter, and then stood to one side, watching and ready. He wore two swords, and a couple of knives. And as a vampire, he was a weapon.
We hunkered down, waiting.
I worried that Sariel and his Nephilim might have spotted our cars, despite the efforts to hide them. I’d forgotten something important: fallen angels can fly.
One by one the Nephilim landed, each of them with darkly handsome faces and ruthless eyes. Coffee Guy was back for a replay, and so was Painting Creep from the Archive, along with the other five Nephilim Chuck and I had fought at the nursing home. Seeing them again was lousy enough, but Ebony was there from the Briggs Society artwork and a new one I hadn’t seen before with long, sandy-colored hair. When they moved away from each other, Sariel stood among them, although I’m damned if I knew how he got there.
Scarred and twisted, Sariel had not weathered the centuries well. Sorren’s immortality came from being a vampire. The Nephilim were otherworldly creatures, and had never been men. Sariel’s long existence came from magic, and magic has a cost.
Sheer hatred glowed in Sariel’s eyes. His skin was marred by white scars that looked like branching lightning bolts, and mottled by diseased, discolored masses. He looked centuries old, but that didn’t make him less dangerous. I’d watched a lot of kung fu movies where the old guy whips everyone’s asses.
I felt the Watchers’ presence even before they touched down. A wave of crippling guilt washed over me, reminding me of every broken promise, every mistake, every time I let someone down.
It’s your fault all those people at the nursing home are dead, the dark magic whispered in my brain. You weren’t good enough. You’re going to fail now, like you’ve failed everyone who ever depended on you.
“Watchers,” Teag muttered. I was pretty sure he was right. Four newcomers were equally handsome to the Nephilim but they looked a little older, more distinguished, and moved with a grace that comes with wealth, power, and consummate self-assurance. If the Nephilim looked like underwear models, the Watchers looked like A-list movie stars. Homicidal, psychopathic movie stars.
Sariel, on the other hand, was